This week has been a productive one for teachers at Shine Zambia. With about 20 minutes left in the lunch break each day, we finished up our nshima and then shared a bit of learning together. Effective questioning, student talk time, and writing were discussed along with how to best support all the English language learners at Shine. As English language learners themselves, some were slow to discuss or contribute, others remained quiet the entire time, but as the week progressed, more teachers chimed in during our Lunch & Learn. We ended the week with a discussion around goal setting for ourselves and for our students. Very powerful to hear a few teachers speak up and share possible goals. Score!
The days at Shine Zambia start early and end late, but these dedicated teachers want to learn how to help their students to rise above and succeed.

In the late afternoon, roosters call out from across the yards as if they are wanting to share the day’s events before the sun goes down.

Children playing together, the rise and fall of voices and laughter, all sound exactly the same no matter what language is spoken.

“Iwe” (ee-way) spoken in different contexts and with different inflections, means “you”…like “oooh yooou”. Or “you, get back here”. Or “you are good”. Or “you, knock it off”.

Guinea hens, while unique and helpful in eating bugs, are so loud when getting ready to roost for the night in the tree out back.

A speech from the Head Teacher to teens about what to wear to school, “The uniform is navy blue, not black. Those pants you are wearing, trying a new fashion style, will not work”.

Taxis and mini buses love to beep. It could be a quick hello to a friend, a warning to a bicyclist, or perhaps a solicitation for a ride.

The smooth Zambian radio voice sharing all the news of the day from the dashboard of the taxi.

The phrase “As for me, Madam…” spoken by students before answering a question about their reading.

I’ve been thinking about the bilingual brain a lot this week and of all of the students at Shine Zambia who speak Nyanja as their first language while learning to read, write, and speak English at school. Yes, everything environmental is printed in English, but the dominant spoken word is Nyanja. I’m in awe of the teachers who switch back and forth between the two languages to help their students understand and feel success. It’s remarkable. Thinking back a few years while attending an ELL class, I learned the bilingual brain is indeed a smarter brain and I truly believe it after two weeks of watching it in action.

~ In the span of under one hour, a woman balances on her head a full five gallon bucket of water and walks over two hundred yards to her home. She does this at least six times.
~ A man walks down the road proudly holding a dead rooster in his hand. Dinner?
~ Lots of school age children enjoying playground equipment, but not attending school. Most likely because their parents cannot afford the cost.
~ The light haze and smell of charcoal wafting throughout the day.
~ A mama doing laundry on the dirt curb outside her home in two big buckets, air drying the clothes on a line on the side of her small two room house.
~ Too many young children to count who do not have shoes – a requirement to attend school.
~ Cars and trucks playing “chicken” on a narrow dirt road atop a dathat has burning garbage on one steep side and metal roofed shanties on the other.
~ No “poor me” pity parties. By anyone. Ever.
~ An entrepreneurial based economy – small privately owned road side businesses set up in metal roof lean-to’s with cardboard signs and plastic blue tarps for walls.
~ Dirt roads peppered with moguls the size of small VW bugs and protruding microwave sized chunks of rock.
~ A school called Shine Zambia Reading Academy that anchors the compound by providing education to their children, adult classes in the afternoon, a playground that keeps the kids out of dangerous streets, a worship location for two churches on Sundays, and the only library for miles that is accessible to all.

On Friday, 150 teachers from area schools came to School of Hope for the Shalubala Zonal Inset (inservice). It was a remarkable day. Teachers were given four or five options of workshops to attend during each breakout session. Along with Dave and I presenting literacy based sessions, other Zambian teachers offered valuable workshops on teaching students with ADD, student empowerment, organizing clubs, and the new Zambian syllabus.

I was given the honor to address the whole group at the start of the day – my first keynote – in Zambia! In reflecting on what I wanted to share, three ideas came to mind. As a gardener, I look at teaching a lot like gardening, so I spoke of the need to cultivate student engagement, nurture student relationships, and to grow the capacity as teachers to create critical thinkers and problem solvers.

Personally, my favorite part of the keynote was when I asked teachers to draw three boxes in their conference folders. In box #1, teachers were to think back to their favorite elementary teacher and write the name down, and in box #2 was the name of their favorite high school teacher, and box #3 was to have the name of an adult mentor or someone who pushes them to be the best version of themselves. Teachers were then asked to share with peers around them names in the boxes. Everyone was talking and laughing about memories of their own schooling. As the keynote wrapped up, I encouraged and challenged teachers to become like those names in their boxes, to lift children up in their classes, and to build connection with the most valuable resource – our students.

Our experiences shape our perspective. Our perspective shapes our experiences. It’s similar to a math equation. I teach 8th grade language arts and social studies. It’s my job to be literate about the past and present of both the U.S. and the world. For many Americans, myself included, I believe my perspective on the world is spot on, meaning that I know the world rather well.

I don’t.

My perspective has quickly changed in regards to what I thought I knew about the world. This shift in perspective is due to my experience traveling to Zambia.

Here are a few examples:

Before I traveled to Zambia, I saw America as a wealthy nation. After a layover in Dubai, I realize that we are, but we are not.

Before I traveled to Zambia, I had an understanding of the challenges minorities and new immigrants in the U.S. face daily. After spending just under 24 hours in Dubai as a blonde hair, blue eyed, English speaking, christian American, I know what it feels like to stick out.

Before I traveled to Zambia, I had an understanding of the need for a father figure in the life of a vulnerable child. After feeling joy and connection with five orphaned teenage Zambian boys brought about from two hours of playing basketball together, I love been called “Uncle Dave”.

The Power of Observing

A robin in the birdbath. Kids playing frisbee in the driveway. My neighbor working in her garden. A bee buzzing around the zinnias out front. My sweet Lucy dog asleep on the back porch. These are things I love to watch – observing little bits of life – noticing small details to help me better understand what’s going on around me.

As always, our first day at a Zambian school is spent observing teachers, watching their students, and noticing the culture of a classroom. All too often, teachers across the globe are rarely provided the opportunity to watch each other, and yet so much can be gleaned from observing. Listening to what is said while paying attention to teacher and student interactions can help steer us in the right direction on how to best serve both groups. What’s easy? Starting the conversation afterwards, naming the areas of strength in the classroom, asking what went well during the lesson, while praising the teacher for specific accomplishments in the classroom. What’s difficult but worth it? Working together to figure out how to best meet the needs of all students in the classroom, using information from the observations and from the teacher’s perspective. Yes, most school days fly by, and the kids come and go, but if we take the time to notice the little things, it might just make a big impact for our students.