Breakthroughs?

The pampered cow that wore a raincoat during the monsoon now has a smart paisley blanket on winter mornings. It starts getting cold about 4 pm, so we are now only swimming at weekends. David has just worked 12 days without a break at Bal Rani, as their school self assessment took place over last weekend. Teachers, students, community members, parents and the DEO have been working together on a new school improvement plan. The staff are really keen to improve both their teaching and the school, and he feels he is making some headway. Babaram from the DEO has been interested in David’s presence and involvement in the self assessment, and has come back to school to watch David’s lesson observations and feedback. He has now managed to talk through a teaching and learning action plan with the head and the DEO, and VSO are interested in using this as a model for future placements. His team teaching has been going well, and he planned to take Gayenau’s class when she was away on Thursday. The children had made name cards that he had then typed and printed for some work in English. He was disappointed that the children did not remember the alphabet song he had taught them the day before, but as he tried to match children to the name cards, realised that he was in the wrong class!
I’ve resisted invitations to work through another weekend training programme, although I’ve had great fun with a group of secondary teachers doing Life Skills this week. A really inventive programme, with lots of games and role plays. The human noughts and crosses competition on the school field drew many spectators. Cow poo was an additional hazard, and the goats became very frisky. I also did my bit for World AIDS day, with a quiz and discussion.
The primary teachers have trickled in from the hills during the week and we were up to our full compliment of 60 by Friday. They range from bright young men in smartly pressed shirts, trainers and baseball caps who call me ‘auntie’, to elderly men in traditional Nepali dress, and stout middle aged sari clad women who call me didi. We have interesting ‘mixed language’ conversations. Training for English and Maths secondary teachers has also begun, so I am working alongside Durga with the English teachers. They are finding it very difficult to work in English. Its hard to plan ahead, as training mostly follows what teachers do in class – pick up the text and see what’s next. However, he has put several suggestions from the last training into practice and we have now agreed a ‘good practice model’ for all trainers to follow. Quite how this will be done is yet to be determined, but it’s a start. Some of the training materials are good, but others range from the dull and irrelevant to the bizarre. Today’s session on social inclusion, where we organised some very effective role play (a new experience for the trainees) ended with a handout on English customs: “Do not be surprised if you are called flower, chuck, me duck, mate, gov or treacle. It is perfectly normal.” “Do not remove pickings from your nose, clean your ears (bike key is the favourite implement for this activity here), spit (frequent trips to the window to clear nose and throat and expel vast quantities of mucus is common) or pass wind in public places”. Having watched the poor young trainer today struggle with the less than helpful and largely irrelevant materials in the guide, I’ve agreed to help him do something more active and relevant on Sunday, while Durga is visiting elderly relatives in Jhapa.

My sixtieth birthday has been and gone, with party hats and cards at breakfast time and the ceremonial harvesting of our first radish. The day was not without incident; the training was probably the best we’ve done together so far, David came to meet Bedu at the end of the day and we all had pepper tea at Thapa’s mosquito infested tea stall. His arrival caused much interest amongst the primary teachers, who quizzed me about aglo manche (tall man) the next morning. My treat of a bucket of hot water at shower time was spoiled by smashing the bathroom light as I swatted a mosquito with my towel. Naked, dripping, cold, surrounded by broken glass, in the dark, and sixty. We ate dinner at Friends’ Restaurant near the bus stand; in addition to good Indian food, the menu boasts ‘hard liquor’ and single cigarettes. The bhai (waiter) is charming and looks after us well, the paper napkins are not torn in half and our elbows do not stick to the tables. Dinner for two £1:50. Very dark cycling home, under the orange saucer of a new moon, where David surprised me with birthday cake (the best attempt at chocolate cake Kiran’s bakery could manage) complete with candles (6).

Meanwhile Saroj, in the absence of Tanka and Amita who have gone to Kathmandu, has set up a slalom course in the garden in anticipation of his motorcycle test – a 5 minute exercise weaving between 6 posts without putting your feet on the ground or falling off. The rice harvest is coming in from the fields piled high on ox carts, handcarts, rickshaws and heads. An impressive pile is being built next door.