Returning to the Enfants du Mekong centre in Sisophon, I taught two classes made up of Grades 7, 8 and 9. By this time I was well versed on the Writing Through structure (two days of poetry, two of story writing and one reserved for rehearsals before the showcase performance on the final evening) and its pedagogy.
Sue's Rules thus became Katy's Rules
1."Don't Think" (don't think in a conventional and mechanical way)
2. "Use the back of your brain" (because this is where your best ideas live. Katy Says Relax)
3. "Write with your ears" (words have sounds and rhythm)
4. "You can't make mistakes" (If it comes from your head and your heart, it's eh ok).
Rule 4 can only work because I teach alongside a Khmer teacher who can translate for the kids. For this workshop I was helped by a rather rotund Mr Podge [sic?], who introduced himself and then added rather sadly: "I know is a funny name in England".
Despite preparation I was of course nervous about teaching alone. Luckily, Cambodia is not like England, where even the biggest neeks (i.e. me) would join forces to destroy the morale of a new or temporary teacher.This sort of thing is unlikely to an dilemma they're grappling with.
But however starched the school uniforms and attentive the faces, I was quickly reminded that teaching is a tough job. You need to be on form all the time. Especially if you are unfamiliar, pasty-faced teacher and are communicating something that's intended to be "fun" and "new" and not simply the silent board-based copying they are used to. You must rely on the class to humour your attempts to educate and engage them - no matter if it's 38 degrees outside, and they've been studying since 5am, and they haven't seen their family in two months, and they have no idea what the sweaty-foreheaded white woman is going on about.
I love writing stories and poems and I hope my enthusiasm passed on as the children gradually relaxed into the new style of teaching and became more confident about speaking. But I am also aware that you can't force someone to share your interests; if someone was trying to engage me with rock formations or equations, and in a foreign language, I'd feel quite bored and mystified, and sometimes I was met with blank faces.
I suppose what I've come to appreciate in the short time here, is that in the West we have the luxury of being apathetic about school. Especially as native English speakers, with a pretty supportive state, we have so much of the battle already fought for us, and a reasonable safety net below us. Most of school, I half did my homework, half turned up, and still did well through just being conscientious enough and (having just about enough middle class privilege to tide me over). But over here, knowing decent English will likely be the difference between 40 cents a day and staying in your village and earning 10 times as much in town. You can't really afford to be apathetic - and most of these kids - getting up before dawn to study and carrying on until near midnight - know it.
The theme, as I mentioned before is "Taking Risks". At the beginning of each day, I show them photos which are intended to spark their imaginations and develop vocabulary. A man balancing on a tightrope, a woman playing with fire, someone smoking, a child going to school, etc. So we have spectrum of risk - physical, emotional, mental, etc. But for these students, traffic accidents were the flavour of the day. Of every day. Each poem or story, whether it featured a trip to the beach, a day in Angkor Wat, or an day at school, ended with a traffic accident. In our group story, featuring a union in marriage between the Tom and Jerry's son and Harry Potter's daughter, the romance blossomed following a horrific car crash and rekindled after Tom and Jerry's son was diagnosed with a seemingly fatal disease.
Concerned that our final magazine was going to read like a rubber neckers porno I gently banned any mention of traffic accidents from individual stories on the final day. I hope this small breach of Rule 4 was forgivable as it produced a lot of imaginative and interesting stories, including one where I and my friends Jonny, Lisa and Andy get lost in the Amazon jungle and dinosaurs ate Jony and Lisa. Reunited with the traumatised Andy, I told him to "just not think about" the deaths of our pals and we got married. So a proverbial, but not literal car crash.
Each workshop ends with a showcase of the work, and we spent the final day practising again and again until even the shyest and least linguistic of students were able to wrap their mouths around words like "unconscious", "bleeding" and "emergency surgery".
Fatal road collisions aside, there were some really upbeat and lovely poems and stories that emerged. Here's one:
My
problems and my solutions
I am sad
Because I
have a problem
I fell down
I am crying
I am hurt
I am scared
I was riding
my bike
Feeling
alone
When no one
is near my
My family is
busy
So I read a
book
Then I am
happy
It’s
important to read
It’s special
for me
Or I listen
to music
Khmer music
English
music
Chinese
music
All music!
I get better
I don’t feel
alone
Happiness!
While I am now slightly more nervous about navigating the streets of Sisophon, I've remembered this poem a few times as I've battled the brain-shriveling effects of Mefloquine.
What I most enjoyed about the week was living within the EDM center grounds and eating with the older girls in their boarding house twice a day. Every bowl of rice brought with it another interesting conversation with these 17 and 18 year olds. They were hungry to learn so much about the world - how many countries had been to? Is India like Bollywood? Are there many gangsters in Mexico? Hardly any had left Cambodia - despite living an hour from the Thai border. It sounds trite, but I don't feel as lucky as I should to have gone to all the places I've been. That week I was repeating it like a mantra: "34 countries". "I know, I'm lucky, I'm really lucky". These girls are dreaming really big - they want to be lawyers, doctors, diplomats, and to see the world. A few weeks after Michelle Obama came to Siem Reap to promote girls' education, I really hope they can make it.
On another note, they also gave me a tragic Khmer-style makeover, and we had fun with the stickers on my phone.
What I most enjoyed about the week was living within the EDM center grounds and eating with the older girls in their boarding house twice a day. Every bowl of rice brought with it another interesting conversation with these 17 and 18 year olds. They were hungry to learn so much about the world - how many countries had been to? Is India like Bollywood? Are there many gangsters in Mexico? Hardly any had left Cambodia - despite living an hour from the Thai border. It sounds trite, but I don't feel as lucky as I should to have gone to all the places I've been. That week I was repeating it like a mantra: "34 countries". "I know, I'm lucky, I'm really lucky". These girls are dreaming really big - they want to be lawyers, doctors, diplomats, and to see the world. A few weeks after Michelle Obama came to Siem Reap to promote girls' education, I really hope they can make it.
On another note, they also gave me a tragic Khmer-style makeover, and we had fun with the stickers on my phone.
