Starting School

15 February 2015

I wake early to my phone alarm, which I try to ignore as it’s in the kitchen charging.  I have been told that we will not start until late morning, but am keen to get into a routine so brave the cool morning and turn on the water heater to prepare coffee and a mandi bath while I put on porridge oats to soak.

Lots of thermal fleece layers to keep warm through my morning chores and then into my kira ready for my school day. I am living temporarily on the school grounds, and its only a few minutes down the hill to the meeting room; I head down a little after 8:30, as much to practice navigating the broken steps in heels and a kira as to look at the early morning view from the prayer wheel and check that I was not mistaken in my interpretation of the commencement time.

I meet a couple of my new colleagues on the basketball court, introductions are made and we move to the staff room.  I am one of 4 women teachers and am readily adopted into their circle.  I am presented with the text books for class 7 and 8 maths so assume that is what I am teaching.  There are 2 strands in each of class 7 and class 8 and class 7 is seen as a somewhat difficult year group as children from nearby village primary schools swell the school numbers at this stage and are unaccustomed to this school routines.

Staff meeting is conducted in English, presumably for my benefit, and we commence by looking at the student mean results for each subject 2014.  We are to set targets for results for 2015.

We then proceed to look at the Ministry of Education calendar for the year and commence work on the school calendar.

At 12 we wind up for the day as there is a significant guru visiting the Lhakhang above the village and villagers from here and adjacent areas are gathering for a blessing. 

I make my way up the steep hill on the dry, dusty, rocky path (in my kira and dress boots) in the company of  Phup and Zangmo, my new colleagues, and we join the colourful throng.  Many children giggle as I greet them, foreigners in these parts are a rarity and I will be an object of interest for some time.   We watch the monks and the guru proceed around the Lhakhang, to the sounds of their unique musical instruments and seat ourselves patiently, cross legged on the pine needle strewn ground to wait for the food and the blessing.  Phup uses her connections (her husband is a gewog (district) official to access plates for the food and chairs in a screened area.   Soup is wild asparagus, occasionally a little fibrous but tasty; I decide I am vegetarian to avoid the large pieces of boiled skin which are considered a delicacy and settle for fried hard boiled egg and some Emma Datse to accompany my red rice.  The drink on offer is described to me as curd, it tastes a little like runny yogurt, but I hesitate to drink too much of it as I am sure it breaks all the traveler food hygiene rules!

Many of the children, including toddlers, have packets of snack foods – a little bit of a worry.  Packaging is often discarded with little second thought.  Given that this village has only had road access for the past 3-4 years, the “luxury” of these unhealthy snacks and the non-biodegradability of their packaging is possibly relatively new.

my view!

I chat for a while with some of the male teachers, including the vice principal, before remembering our orientation advice that this is a recipe for village gossip, so excused myself based on that reason and returned to my female colleagues.

More patient waiting is accompanied by offers of ara – the local brew from grain – politely declined, the descent will be treacherous enough in my attire without any additional hazards.  Finally there are the blessings, with libations of holy water/wine poured into our palms and provision of more food – snacks, biscuits, pastries, which are poured liberally into any container an individual might be able to find.

Making our way back to the village, the relative merits of the local shops are pointed out to me – there are actually 5 or 6 and the one I have already visited had pasta in evidence.  My new friends point out their houses, which are very close to where I will be when my accommodation is finished, with invitations to visit whenever I feel lonely.  A similar invitation follows the next day from another female colleague.  I am feeling very accepted into this small community.

Kheni Cluster village

The music from the Lhakhang continues into the early evening and again early the next morning.  It has a certain haunting air to it.

A full day of completing the school calendar, allocating roles and responsibilities, classes etc requires re-visiting after lunch as advice has come through that we are to have another teacher.  I had felt a little guilty as I was sitting with a load of 4 classes/28 periods while others were in the high 30s and offered to take class 5 science, which had no teacher allocated, if those in authority thought it was appropriate.  I was variously allocated and removed from this class a couple of times before settling to class 7 and 8 maths, as I had originally anticipated.  I am intrigued by the process – each class is listed, with the subjects and number of periods specified by the ministry, starting with pre-primary, and teachers identify what they would like to teach.  This is followed by juggling the number of classes to fit the school week;  total class allocation to each teacher listed, then reallocation and swopping of classes to try to balance the loads relatively evenly.

I am asked for any additional suggestions to the school calendar and observe that there are interhouse competitions for many things, but not maths, and describe maths relay.  It is agreed that this be offered for the older classes on a trial basis to introduce some challenge, fun and excitement to maths, and it is included into the calendar with some time for preparation. 

I am asked if I would like to be the literary coordinator – which includes literary club, plus organizing interhouse quiz and spelling competitions, poetry and nursery rhyme recitals.  I accept.  Phew!  I am also asked if I would like to be an assistant house coordinator, which I agree to, but then this is reconsidered as my knowledge of things cultural for those events might be rather lacking!

I ask about the progress of my accommodation and am told it is nearly finished  - maybe I can move in tomorrow or the next day - and there is a laughing suggestion of a housewarming party – perhaps I should take this seriously.  I think my small apartment might be a little luxurious by village standards (I believe it will have a sink with a tap in an area that may have been known in other times and places as the scullery, plus a tap in the washroom!) and my colleagues may be curious.  I might have to ask people to bring their own cups/glasses as I have only 2 of each!