Apples

Using pictures on this site often makes me feel artistic and interesting. However, when the best internet connection I can hope for is pitiful on a good day, it’s just not worth it. I hope you all still find me artistic and interesting with just my unphotographs to look at.

My first day of school. Research Methods. I have three students. I am the youngest person in the room. The oldest is 30 years older than I am. My classroom has no electricity, windows that are missing glass, a broken door knob, rickety old wooden desks and chairs, cobwebs galore, dirty cement floors, and an extraordinarily dirty chalkboard, with hand-made erasers that look as though they have never been cleaned. It is very African. I actually enjoy it. Simple.

For my first class, I wanted to give them a taste of why Research Methods is an important topic for them, and show them some of the things we will be learning. My class is scheduled to meet for three hours, but I planned to let them out after two, since it was the first day. After two hours, I told them they were free to go, but they could stay and ask me any questions if they wanted.

The first question: “Are you married?”

This is a common question for me lately. I proceed to explain that no, I am not, and the ring I wear was a gift from my mother. I had to draw what a typical American engagement ring looks like on the board to explain why people in the US don’t confuse me for a married woman.

After that, all the questions turned political. Since all of you know how very politically minded I am (or am not, as the case may be), you can all guess how much I enjoyed the next hour of questions.

Here is the best part, though. As soon as class actually ended, my youngest student (who is 32, still 10 years older than I am) said he had something to give to me. He opened his bag and pulled out a bushel of bananas. Like the African version of an apple for the teacher. I laughed to myself the whole way home.

This is a picture I did not take of myself, walking through the town square, being followed by a herd of tiny African children in school uniforms, none of whom I know, who giggle every time I make eye contact with them.