Friday the 13th of December, year 2013, 13 o'clock. Not the most auspicious time or date, but I didn't choose it and I was going to make the most of it.
It was my first sex ed class. Teaching it, not taking it, of course.
Let me set the scene: I was at Kinder's House Banock (KHB): an elementary school, started by Spaniards, given a German name, and run by and for Cameroonians. KHB is located in Banock, a nearby quartier in my arrondissement, so I took a 15 minute moto ride down to the main road and then strolled for an extra 20 minutes to arrive at the school. The day was cool enough for long sleeves and a long skirt to be not quite warm enough, but still no where near my idea of Christmas weather. The wind was blowing the ubiquitous red dust, dust that was becoming even more ingrained into my sandaled feet with each step and changing my skin to a color I've never seen occur naturally. In other words, it was a normal day. Except that it was Friday the 13th, 2013, 13 o'clock. And my first sex ed class.
When I arrived at Kinder's House about an hour early, I hung out with the teachers and "helped" (read: sat and watched) them plan the Christmas Party, to be held next Wednesday (December 18th). It was basically an audition, where students aged 3 and up performed dances, songs, skits, and recitals that they had practiced in class. The teachers then decided together which were good enough for the parents to see the day of the fête de Noël. As my watched ticked nearer and nearer to 13:00, I started fidgeting in my seat more than the kids were. I wondered anxiously, Maybe I won't have to teach today. Maybe this will take too long. Maybe Professor André won't need me until next week.
But then I asked him. He started when he realized the time, and ushered me into the classroom that the kiddos had freshly cleaned in my honor. I put my purse on the wooden teacher's desk. I pulled out my notes, tape, chalk, and slips of paper that I had prepared. And, taking a deep breath, I faced the 31 students, aged 11-13, and started with an ice breaker.
Me: Bonjour tout le monde!
Chorale response: Bonjour madame!
Me: Comment ça va?
Everyone: Ca va bien, merci!
Me again: Okay, pour commencer, on va faire un petit jeu. Chacun va dire son prénom et aussi un animale ou un plante qui commence aver le même lettre. Par example: Moi, je m'appelle Madame Rebecca, et je suis un Rose. C'est comprise? (Okay, to start, we are going to play a little game. Everyone will say his or her first name and also an animal or plant that starts with the same letter. For example, my name is Rebecca and I am a Rose! Do you understand?)
Everyone: …………
So, apparently that ice breaker was too hard. We don't know enough animals or can't think that fast or have never played a game like that before… We'll try again next time.
It didn't help that as we went, more and more children pressed into the class, ushered joyously by Professeur André. I may have started with 30, but I definitely had over 60 by the time I started teaching my lesson: Myths and Realities about HIV/AIDs.
It basically went as did the ice breaker. My French was too French for them, and their French too Cameroonian for me (it didn't help that they are more fluent in the local language, Nguembe, than in French and that I am more fluent in English than French). I overestimated how much they knew already. I couldn't seem to get them to agree that HIV is a major problem in Cameroon (although I don't know how much of that was a language barrier and how much was a lack of information).
And you know what? It was pretty darn fun.
To Be Continued… Next class taking place after Christmas break.
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