Sophia’s weekdays here (except for when daddy has been visiting – unfortunately he leaves today L) are structured around her pre-school schedule at the only Montessori program in the country. It’s located in the neighborhood of “Trankil” – spelled like this to reflect the French pronunciation of “tranquil” – in the school director’s impressive sunshine-yellow stucco home (on a dirt road). The first classroom has around twenty 5-10 year olds, with a couple of blond European children and the rest African; and the second classroom (on the other side of the house) is for the 3-4 year olds – Sophia’s age. All the children in this class are African, and two are of mixed Dutch-African and German-African descent. One little girl is South African.
Many spoke no English before coming to this school, and they all seem to get along swimmingly. At Sophia’s pre-school on Philadelphia’s Main Line, she is one of the few non-blonds in her class. Here she is the only “white” person in her class, and the beauty is that no one seems to notice or care.
This is known as the more structured pre-school in the country. Like all other school children in the Gambia, these pupils wear uniforms – sown by a local tailor, all uniforms are custom-made for each child. They arrive by 8 a.m. and dismiss at 2 p.m., everyday. They pack their lunches, which they eat at 11:30 and don’t have a snack before this. From 8-10:30 the little ones do traditional Montessori seat “work.” Afterwards, it’s songs and movement. Sophia enjoyed the fact that she knew all the songs (though some were slightly different, British and African versions) like “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” and “Old MacDonald.” One totally new song for her, at the beginning of their long medley of about 12 songs, was the Gambian national anthem. It’s a wonderful song for any nation: about unity, justice, peace and diversity. I’ll get the words for another post. Also new was the recitation of today’s date: every child stands up and recites “Today is Thursday, the first of February, 2007” before they form a circle for songs.
While this is a school for relatively privileged children, it has no electricity. We sat observing in the classroom decorated with pictures of nature, musical notes, and children taped to the walls; and children sitting at little sets of locally-made wooden tables and chairs. During the quiet seat work time I thought that the lights were off in order to maintain the peaceful calm; but the dignified school director informed me that “no, we have no electricity here. When we need it, we use a generator.” So, during a sunny day, in a shady room, there is no need to turn on lights. This is perfectly normal; no one has a problem with this.
By 11 a.m. these adorable kids line up, shortest to tallest, to run outside. They are affectionate, with kids putting their arms around each other – especially looking out for the new girl, and picking hibiscus flowers for their teachers and classmates, some of which are for “baking birthday cakes” (a plastic bowl filled with sand, covered in the bright red flowers). While she was terrified at the thought of going to a school in this new environment, the adults and the children put her at ease and now she feels quite at home in her new school.
Many spoke no English before coming to this school, and they all seem to get along swimmingly. At Sophia’s pre-school on Philadelphia’s Main Line, she is one of the few non-blonds in her class. Here she is the only “white” person in her class, and the beauty is that no one seems to notice or care.
This is known as the more structured pre-school in the country. Like all other school children in the Gambia, these pupils wear uniforms – sown by a local tailor, all uniforms are custom-made for each child. They arrive by 8 a.m. and dismiss at 2 p.m., everyday. They pack their lunches, which they eat at 11:30 and don’t have a snack before this. From 8-10:30 the little ones do traditional Montessori seat “work.” Afterwards, it’s songs and movement. Sophia enjoyed the fact that she knew all the songs (though some were slightly different, British and African versions) like “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” and “Old MacDonald.” One totally new song for her, at the beginning of their long medley of about 12 songs, was the Gambian national anthem. It’s a wonderful song for any nation: about unity, justice, peace and diversity. I’ll get the words for another post. Also new was the recitation of today’s date: every child stands up and recites “Today is Thursday, the first of February, 2007” before they form a circle for songs.
While this is a school for relatively privileged children, it has no electricity. We sat observing in the classroom decorated with pictures of nature, musical notes, and children taped to the walls; and children sitting at little sets of locally-made wooden tables and chairs. During the quiet seat work time I thought that the lights were off in order to maintain the peaceful calm; but the dignified school director informed me that “no, we have no electricity here. When we need it, we use a generator.” So, during a sunny day, in a shady room, there is no need to turn on lights. This is perfectly normal; no one has a problem with this.
By 11 a.m. these adorable kids line up, shortest to tallest, to run outside. They are affectionate, with kids putting their arms around each other – especially looking out for the new girl, and picking hibiscus flowers for their teachers and classmates, some of which are for “baking birthday cakes” (a plastic bowl filled with sand, covered in the bright red flowers). While she was terrified at the thought of going to a school in this new environment, the adults and the children put her at ease and now she feels quite at home in her new school.
3 comments:
Amazing opportunity you are sharing with us.
I am with you all the way.
A fellow pioneer to the Gambia, Barbara, forwarded your blog link to me.
How I wish I could be there too!
It is with great joy that I read about your service in Gambia and dedication to help the Africans. Because I spent two years in Africa, your reports brought back memories of working with the poor masses, whose pure and beautiful souls carry the burden of life's suffering and deprivation but are endowed with such great inner richness. We all wish you success and hope that your family's example inspires many others to rise and share their blessings with the family of mankind.
such beautifully written, inspirational stories. soak it up and enjoy. you and your children are so blessed and africa is so blessed to have you tell us all about your adventures!
ms
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