Back to School... Day Three
on Me Talk Pretty One Day (Malawi), 22/Dec/2008 07:05, 34 days ago
Today is Friday. The weekend begins tomorrow. This thought will help me get through my final day of school. At least, I hope it will. Whenever the lessons get boring today, whenever someone goes on and on about something that is completely unimportant, whenever we are told to do something that we have already done, I will remind myself that the weekend begins tomorrow. Saturday, Saturday, Saturday! Tomorrow!I leave my bike at home today. I walk down the hill to the main road where my friend Sarah will collect me in her car. As long as it does not rain during the next few minutes, I am looking forward to a day in dry clothes. I see her white van heading down the road and I stick my thumb out like I’m a hitch-hiker. I never get bored of this joke.I’m in the car and it did not rain and it does not look like it is going to rain at all today. It is not going to rain today and the weekend begins tomorrow. I’d like to keep these facts in my rucksack so I can find them again later when the lessons are boring me to tears, take them out, play with them, share them with my friends.I tell Sarah about the day before yesterday and about hitting the goat on my bike. She tells me about the day before yesterday and about how she drove into a piglet that was trying to cross the road. I think we both feel a little better for sharing these stories. There is no radio in Sarah’s car. Goat and piglet stories are all we have. The good thing about the car though, is that it is much quicker than the bike. We are at school already and for the first time I am early.I walk into class and take the last remaining seat at the table by the window. It’s not a great seat but it’s a good table. I can see the mountain from here and also there is a girl next to me who, for some reason, loves school and likes to work really hard. She will answer all of the questions for this group so the rest of us can just take it easy and think about tomorrow.During the boring lessons I like to watch the other kids in our group and wonder if they find them as boring as I do. Sitting the other side of our group’s spokeswoman is a big kid. The chair is too small for him but it’s incredible how still he manages to sit in it. He sits there and doesn’t move. He looks scared. Maybe he’s hoping the teacher won’t notice him if he doesn’t move, won’t ask him any difficult questions. He doesn’t need to worry about that, sitting next to the class swot.On the other side of me is a funny kid who manages to lose everything. The teacher earlier asked us to write our answers down in our books but he couldn’t find his pen. He asked me if I had it but I told him that I didn’t. I was telling the truth too, I didn’t have his pen, but I don’t think he believed me at the time. Ho looked under his books, under his chair, under the table, everywhere and he couldn’t find it. Eventually, someone gotfed up with him and lent him a pen. He opened his book to start work and guess what fell out? He picked up his pen and smiled. What an idiot!There’s a little kid sitting at the end of our table. He’s forever adjusting his glasses like they don’t fit him good or something. He works hard, this kid, but his books are a complete mess. He doesn’t seem able to open a book without creasing half a dozen pages. His desk contains more dog-earsthan my street at night.In watching my classmates and their funny ways, I can make the time go quicker. The day has been a bit of a blur, I haven’t learned anything, but tomorrow is Saturday and soon it will be time to go home. The kid next to me, the one who lost his pen, is also the time-keeper. I hope he hasn’t lost his watch. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.It’s the last lesson of the day. We’re learning about the Expressive Arts curriculum, I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not really paying attention. The teacher asks for volunteers. He hasn‘t done this before. I copy the big kid at our desk and sit as still as possible. I try not to make eye contact with the teacher. It works. Four other people are chosen and make their way to the front looking frightened at what the teacher has in mind.The teacher asks us to turn to page 14 of our pupil books. I turn to page 14 and see a poem, a poem I know: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He shows the four kids a quick dance that he wants them to do. I’m happy I wasn’t chosen. They’re not very good at the dance but they are trying. The teacher starts singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and comes up with actions. “Move your fingers like this!” he tells us. “Put your arms out like this!” he goes on. Soon, we’re all doing the actionsto Twinkle Twinkle Little Star while the four at the front are dancing and the teacher is singing. He stops. He says he wants to change the song a little. He starts again and this time he’s singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star differently, like he’s a reggae singer or something. He’s changed the rhythm and actually, he’s improved it. The four are dancing in time to the song now, we’re all still doing the actions and some of the class are even starting to join in with the teacher and his reggae singing. What is going on? I got seriously lost somewhere during this lesson.We’re all singing now and some of the other kids have got up to dance as well. The teacher stops and tells us it’s time to go home. I can’t believe it, lessons are over and I want them to continue. We pack our bags but we keep singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. We walk out of the classroom butwe keep singing. We wave goodbye and all head off in our separate directions, all of us still singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.School is over.