Monsieur MOI!!!

Age-old advice says that you have to fall on your face before you can

run or something like that, I might be paraphrasing. Either way, I’ve

reached that part in my training process we so cleverly call “Practice

School.” Up to this point I’ve taught to a group of 4 of peers and to

a group of 5 avid Guinean students. So when I was told that I’d be

teaching a 7th grade class of 80 kids, I put up my hands to brace

myself as I would surely fall on my face. Lucky for me Guinean

classes, especially optional ones, aren’t exactly highly attended. My

anticipated class of 80 turned into a manageable 46, so much

easier……right?

I went into my first classes with high hopes and ready to take the

practice part of “Practice School” quite literally. I was scheduled to

start with an easy class of about 15 or 20 10th graders which wasn’t

any more of a comfort because these kids made it this far in school by

actually knowing French so I knew I had to be on my A-game. As advised

I stood in the doorway of the classroom until all the students rose

from their seats before I entered the class fully. An odd standoff

took place for what felt like hours but my glance of “levez-vous”

(with key use of eyebrow) eventually won them over.  I let fate take

the reins for the rest of the class because before I realized it, it

was over.  I actually had to stop and think if I had actually given

then entire lesson in French or whether I had slipped back into

English in my fluster. My worries were calmed as the students copied

notes and even asked me more questions. After a few questions answered

in broken French I walked out of the classroom with scenes of Dead

Poet’s Society (or Good Willl Hunting, or A Beautiful Mind, or Stand

and Deliver) flashing in my head. I was a teacher, vraiment!

My petty victory over the 10th grade class was short lived as I had an

hour before I had to teach the 7th graders. I knew that I had to win

them over quick so I had planned a lesson full of experiments where I

get to burn things. Guinean or American, little kids love flames,

explosions and chances for their teacher to get hurt.  I entered the

class the same way as my morning class but 46 7th graders are a lot

different of an audience, but to my surprise they all rose and even

recited some little phrase that I assumed was a pledge of allegiance

or something of the sort. For the most part the kids were better than

expected with only a few disruptive students. I had more participation

than one teacher can handle for every one of my questions. Each time I

asked for someone to read from the blackboard, my question was

answered with a loud chorus of “Monsieur MOI! Monsieur! MONSIEUR!

MOI!” and snaps to get my attention, all normal in Guinean classes. It

felt good to really control such a large class, guess all I could hope

for was that they understood what I was saying.

At the end of each week of practice school we have to give an exam to

each class we taught over the week and as any teacher can tell you:

when there’s a test, there’s cheating. Cheating isn’t anything new,

but the level these students take it to is. Blatant passing of notes,

using cheat sheets and even giving each other the answer verbally was

seen in every classroom. I did my best to be a stickler and even used

an A and a B form for my big class to deter cheaters, or at least make

it easier for me to see who cheated.

As the class slowly dwindled and students left after finishing, I

noticed that one student in particular had barely started copying down

any of the questions let alone answering them. I recognized him right

away as one of my problem students: loud, disruptive, pudgy with a

huge smile and dimples to match his overall careless behavior. I had

already taken a piece of chalk from him because he was writing on his

face as well as moved him multiple times so he had no excuse of not

Mamadou and Me!



being able to see. The second to last student left and he was leftalone. I could have stopped him right there because he had already run out of time but there wasn’t another class after this so instead I sat down next to him and left him to his work. After a bit he realized I wasn’t going anywhere and decided he would try the fourth of four problems with a little extra direction from me. He finished answering

the 4 part true or false question and did his best to avoid my eye contact. Before he got up to leave I stopped him to ask why he didn’t try the rest of the test. He answered, seeming shy for the first time, “Je ne sais pas.” I saw he had the same last name as my host family and I told him that I was named after a former French professor who used to teach at the same school.  Then I let him run off, hoping that my mini inspirational speech with guilt-trip undertones got to him in some way. Little Mamadou Diallo isn’t going to be the star pupil anytime soon but he loves to say hi to me now and he seems extra proud to show me he’s in class, whether he’s listening or not.



Littlest Host Sister....tough kid.



Practice school really has been the best learning tool so far in my Peace Corps training. I can tell my French is getting much better, I’m feeling more a part of the community and I like returning home a little more now. One day my littlest sister/cousin/general family member, who always comes running to meet me in the yard with the rest of the kids, was coming at me a little too fast. She decided to go for the trust-fall type of hug at my knees without me watching. I never broke stride and then turned around to find her getting up brushing off her bottom. I’ve adjusted back to the school schedule quite easily and I really enjoy being in the classroom so far. I can’t believe I’m

about to lose the training wheels (pun intended) and hope I can keep the positive vibe going as I get closer to my move to Wonkifong.



A beautiful night at the Training Compound. I'm not actually at a resort just had a beautiful sunset.



Hope all is going good for everyone back home. Football updates are necessary!

Dante.