Grad School Life: New Skills

We attend grad school, among other reasons, to gain new skills. In one year or six-plus, we will have a better understanding of how to conduct research, a deeper awareness of the current status and history of our field, a sense of the breadth and depth of future careers and of the networks that sustain those careers. We also gain some skills that might politely be referred to as 'non-academic'. Today, I've decided to share with you a new non-academic skill that I've gained in my first six weeks living on campus (more to come, I'm guessing):

Multitask biking -- Most students bike on campus so bike safety is huge. I've managed to avoid being hit by any cyclists thus far, which I consider a huge win. As much transit time (e.g., getting to or between classes) takes place on a bike, I have begun to work my way towards valuable bike skills. Specifically, I am now able to eat easy-to-hold foods (e.g., peaches, sweet potatoes) while biking. This allows continued easy access to the brakes and some control with both hands. I still struggle with biking  entirely one-handed, a skill tested the other night as I biked home with a full 2 1/2-inch binder under my arm. Fortunately, both the binder and I made it in one piece.
Skill importance: 8 out of 10
Skill mastery: 6

1 1/2 Years Later - A Reflection

Friday, September 21, 2012

It has been one year, five months, and five days since I left Dodowa. It has taken me that long to move all my journal entries from paper into type. Those entries fill 42 typed pages, 1.1 spaced. They fill most of three journals handwritten, one each orange and green and blue.

I knew my time in Ghana would be life-changing, but I never could have predicted just how life-changing it would be. Eighteen months ago, I was settling into the routines and rhythms of sixty-six children and the other volunteers who cared for them. Those routines and rhythms remain a part of me today. For months after I left Ghana, I wanted to say, “Yen ko” (Twi for “Let’s go”) whenever going anywhere with others. Over a year after leaving, I wrote about George in my graduate school essay. My last office and current apartment have both prominently featured pictures of the children, including my favorite, one which Claire took of Beauty and I waiting at the bus stop. I think of them every day in some form or another, whether running clean tap water to wash dishes or seeing children play who are both healthy and well-loved.

I am glad that I did not leave unchanged. Among all that I am thankful for from this trip, that stands out the strongest. It’s not just about eating bananas or enjoying the feel of dust and sweat on a ninety-five-degree day. It’s about loving so hard it hurts and putting somebody else’s life and growth above your own for some period of time.

As I began this journal with one quote, I will end with two:

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” - Mother Teresa

“Travel is like love, mostly because it’s a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That is why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never really end.” - Pico Iyer

Day 36 - About Those Chickens...

Saturday, April 16 - Day 36

“The flight will leave earlier than scheduled, so please be at your gate early.” This is what the ticketing woman told me as she handed me my baggage claim receipts. Apparently Egypt time is the opposite of Ghana time.

I have no idea whether the flight actually departed early (and, if so, by how much) because I was asleep at the time. I fell asleep within ten minutes of boarding and woke up to us cruising above the clouds. I think that’s the chicken’s fault.

Niki accompanied me to the orphanage this morning for a final 6 AM visit. She had offered to be my last-day photographer and got some great shots. Shortly after our arrival, she said, “You should pick up a chicken.” Now I knew that this was a stupid idea - I should definitely not pick up a chicken - but a confluence of factors urged me against my better judgement: Niki rarely suggests actions so perhaps I should listen; she was thinking she should instate it as a new pre-departure requirement for volunteers (who can resist tradition?); and the kids handle these birds all the time. Only two days ago, big Prince had carefully placed a chicken on Jackie’s head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t wondered whether the chickens were actually as easy to catch as they looked to be when the children chased them. So I picked up a chicken. Indeed, it was fairly easy to catch.

Half an hour later, my fingertips started to itch, turn red, and exhibit slight signs of swelling. By the time we arrive home, another hour having passed, I had a full systemic allergic reaction with a rash on my elbows, my stomach, the backs of my knees, and multiple other body parts. Everything itched. Fortunately, I remembered that Niki had an antihistamine in her travel medical kit from when she was packing medicine for the Mole trip. I took one of her pills when we got home and felt better within an hour or so. [Note from the future: Niki, thank you! It was entirely worth the whole experience.] The pill can cause drowsiness; I slept through the second half of the cab ride to the airport and the first three-ish hours of my flight. It turns out it was a stupid idea to pick up the chicken. That said, I’ve now caught and held a chicken in Ghana. You win some; you lose some.

Other than the allergic reaction, my final morning was lovely. Niki and I arrived shortly after 6 to a very quiet orphanage. About ten of the middle ones were awake beginning to wash and do chores (which include cleaning (e.g., sweeping), cooking, and such). Most of them were still sleeping off the big party. Around 6:30, Ma roused the little ones for their morning bath and the daily bustle commenced. Happily, all of the little ones were in good moods today; we had a pleasantly tantrum-free morning. I got to get Beauty and Godwyn dressed a final time and wander around with Beauty contentedly being held. When the time came, I said my goodbyes, working my way around from the littlest ones outside Ma’s room to the oldest boys repairing their football boots on the table by the front door. We returned home for a final (for me) breakfast of white bread with ground nut butter and jam. As a going-away present, Jackie had gone to the market to refill the empty ground nut butter container while we were at the orphanage. I love the volunteer family.

My taxi to the airport ran on Ghana time. I planned to leave the house between 8:45 and 9 AM so asked Beatriz to have the taxi driver, a friend of hers, come at 8:45 when she called him for me last night. She called, talked, hung up, and announced that she’d told him 8 AM. What? Emily reassured me that he’d probably arrive at 8:30 on Ghana time. At 8:42 this morning, he was still noticeably absent and I was actually ready to go. Beatriz called again and he said he’d be at the house in two minutes. We loaded my bags into the car at 8:55.

The drive was just under two hours and got me to the airport the perfect three hours ahead. My flight has also been smooth thus far. Most rows, mine included, have empty middle seats so I get to enjoy the feeling of an extra-spacious aisle seat. The only blip has been my companion at the window, who reminds me of the rastas at Kokrobite. (I wouldn’t be surprised if he is a rasta from Kokrobite.) After writing down and handing me his email address and phone number in China entirely unsolicited, he soon suggested I move to the middle seat next to him. No, thank you.

According to the flight monitor, we left Accra at 1:50 PM (scheduled time: 1:40) and will arrive in Cairo in under half an hour. There you have it.

Grad School Life: End of Week 3 Update

It turns out that Master's degree programs in Education and extroverted, social people can do very well together. The 35 students in my program include many people who have taught for 3 to 6 years and are now returning to school to study educational reform with hopes of changing our world for the better someday. They and we are full of energy, enthusiasm, and a passion for "good", whatever that may be. To explain my love for my graduate experience thus far, let me provide an example of some of my cohort's social events. Most of our gatherings have had attendance in the 8 to 20 people range, pretty good given our busy schedules and high levels of assigned academic reading.

Week 1
We spent most of week 1 shopping classes and adjusting to academic life, but we did take time out to gather on Thursday to watch a bit of Stanford's away football game and participate in Grad Trivia Night, on Friday for Happy Hour after our first full week of class, and on Saturday for Mexican dinner at someone's apartment.

Week 2
Calmer than week 1 because shopping was mostly over and schedules settled, it was also busier because workloads too had settled and required reading kicked in full force. (When classes only last 10 weeks, things move fast from the start.) We took a midweek study break to grill and watch the presidential debate at an apartment then watched some baseball over drinks on Friday and went to the football game against Arizona on Saturday (my first football game with overtime -- spoiler: Stanford won).

Week 3
We began the week with a Sunday night potluck then many of us saw each other at a Tuesday film screening around educational reform. We gathered to watch the vice presidential debate on Thursday then had evening drinks on Friday. Today (Saturday), many of us will get together for a quiche-and-pumpkin-pancakes fall brunch as we head into a weekend of studying.

Next week promises another presidential debate party and a cohort brown-bag lunch with one of our favorite professors. (Yes, we even have collective favorite professors.) It will be fantastic.

The academic side of life is also going quite well. I love my classes and enjoy immensely learning so many new things each week about education. I'm having fun with my first "flipped classroom" and appreciate the opportunity to view all the challenges and bumps along the road of that experience in person and in real time. (In a flipped classroom, students view lectures and do readings at home then focus class time on hands-on practice or in-depth discussion.)

On the professional side, I'll share a highlight of week 3 from yesterday. I met for lunch yesterday with a University VP actively involved in reframing the way his school and others help students think about major and career planning. He had spoken at my week-long summer class so I knew he was fantastic already. We ended up having a 1 1/2 hour lunch before I needed to head back to campus for Organizational Analysis, my flipped class. As we were standing to go, I mentioned that I was heading off for that class, that it was flipped, and watching our lectures at home was an interesting experience. His reply: "I'd love to meet with you again" to talk about online learning. His office and school, it turns out, are thinking of putting some career resources online. As I'm in an online class now, I have an inside view on this "grand experiment" (as one professor calls it) in massive open online learning. Thanks to this, I get a follow-up meeting with a higher education thought leader (per my consideration). Pretty awesome.

Day 35 - Dance Party

Friday, April 15 - Day 35

We had a big party today. It was excellent.

Niki had decided two days ago that it’d be fun to have a party with the kids like the volunteers had in the week before she and I arrived here. Some kids will be away during break so she suggested an end-of-term party today while everyone (including me!) was still there. Yesterday, she and Sarah booked a DJ. Today, we partied. The kids loved it.

The DJs brought a set of giant speakers, a computer, and lots of wires. They were set up by the time Jackie and I arrived in the early afternoon, bearing a tub of fruit salad which I had balanced on my head all the way from the field (using my hands to support, of course). We had each carried one side at first, but realized at the field that Ghanaian-style head-balancing might be easier; it was.

Our arrival coincided with that of Mama Jane, returning from her trip to America. Though the music was already going when we arrived, the dancing really picked up after Mama Jane addressed the kids about her trip. Once they got to move around after sitting on benches for an hour, they danced. And those kids can move. It was so much fun to watch and join in.

I spent much of the party holding, and occasionally dancing with, small children. I got Irene and Beauty both to sleep in the course of the afternoon, Beauty while secured to my back Ghanaian-style. I got lots of pictures of the kids dancing and just being, including Justice with his million-watt, light-up-the-room smile. It was a fantastic final afternoon and evening (the music played until 7) with the kids. It was freeform yet kept them all involved and engaged and they were all so happy. I love seeing them get to just be kids.

Day 34 - Change of All Sorts

Thursday, April 14 - Day 34

I enjoyed a full second-to-last long morning in Ghana (the last being reserved for packing), going to the seamstress then getting my hair braided at the salon while reading The Happiness Project. One fact from the book struck me as particularly relevant: many happiness experts “advocate periods of deprivation to sharpen pleasures.”

This fact resonates now because in two days I’ll leave Ghana, a country of plenty in some areas but of deprivation in others. I’ll no longer wonder whether the power will return in hours or days, providing energy for a fan in the heat of the day and a light in the darkness of night. I’ll shower under running water, not with the half-bucketful of cool water carried to the house by an orphan. (They carry water 7 or 8 minutes from a nearby well to keep us supplied; we’re currently transitioning to using two big water tanks recently installed in the front yard.) Most happily, I will get to cook again. I will eat fruits and vegetables in unpeeled form, drink tap water, and enjoy those sharpened pleasures that arise from deprivation. As I am happy now, I will be happy.

On a tangentially-related side note, I eat bananas now. Our main (i.e., peelable) fruit options from the market are mangoes, pineapples, and bananas. I love the big mangoes but find the small ones that are now in season a bit stringy and hard to eat. Pineapples are always delicious. Bananas are cheap (10 pesewas each, about 7 cents US) and easy to eat on the go. I assert with confidence that I have overcome my banana loathing. Someday, I will love bananas. [Note from the future: True statement.]

It’s not, it turns out, especially hard to change yourself in small ways. The biggest challenge is generally wanting to change. Once you summon that desire, almost any small adjustment is possible. Just as pebbles lying together make mountains, these alone-insignificant changes together make individuals who are stronger, happier, and better prepared to contribute positively to our society. If one banana yesterday becomes one hundred next year, I will be better for the change. Maybe I won’t even need to fuel my next marathon entirely on Gatorade and candy. [Note from the future: Also true.]

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I have exactly 90 pesewas to last me until my departure (plus the 35 cedis for the taxi to the airport). I plan to spend 30 on a final bowl fruit and 60 on a FanChoco. Delicious. The line of Fan products is a central player in our daily lives here in Dodowa. They all come in small, sealed plastic bags, like a fudgesicle in external appearance but entirely filled with slushy, semi-frozen liquid - just bite open the corner and enjoy. For 50 pesewas, you can get the half-frozen-orange-juice-y Fandango or the super-sweet FanIce, vanilla ice cream that tastes like very rich soft serve. I like to use the latter as my single rare source of dairy in Dodowa.

The FanChoco, which goes for 60 pesewas, is my personal favorite. It usually comes fully frozen when the power has been on recently, but is best thawed for 5 or so minutes, at which point it tastes just like a Wendy’s frosty. We probably average 2 Fan products a week per volunteer from the shop by the orphanage, plus one for every long, hot travel day. I got one from the trotro window at a gas station on our way back from Ho.

George called me over tonight to show me his Word of Faith exam scores. (Math was unfortunately ‘not back yet’.) He passed all the ones he showed me, most with very high marks. A 67 on one was balanced by the big, red-ink 92% on another (60 is passing). I was so proud of him. So proud. These kids are fantastic.

Day 33 - Walking & Waterfalls

Wednesday, April 13 - Day 33

I relearned an important life truth today: life at three-year-old speed is a wonderful (if trying) thing. I got to walk all three of the littlest onse to school today because the other volunteers were occupied with subsets of the 63 remaning children. The little ones were magically fed and ready to go fifteen minutes early so we headed out the door at 7:20. My goal was for us to walk to the bus at Chicababy pace.

Godwyn occupied one arm, Beauty’s backpack that hand, and Beauty my back. Chica got the free hand to hold. The walk at her pace was a beautiful thing. Sometimes she shuffled quickly while giggling, generally she ambled, occasionally she stopped and announced “See!” (which Beauty also uses frequently) to draw attention to some house or goat or random wonder we were passing. Free from the usual rush to make the bus on time, we had a fantastic walk. It’s essential to create space for those 20 or 30 or 40 minutes that allow a vivacious, curious three-year-old to eat distractedly, amble slowly, and otherwise use every moment of life to observe and absorb this big, bold world.

We took some of the 10-and-older kids to the waterfall this morning. It was as beautiful as I had remembered. There’s something to be said for sitting under a waterfall in Africa, leaning against the rocks as gallons of water crash down over and around you every second. As before, I’d recommend it.

Day 32 - On Dora and Oprah

Tuesday, April 12 - Day 32

This afternoon, I read Dora the Explorer’s A Surprise Party to Beauty and Ma. The small, cardboard-thick book was ostensibly for the little one; I knew that Ma, holding the book and turning the pages, was paying more attention to and getting more out of the reading experience. I made sure to follow the words with my finger on some pages and to point to pictures of key characters and items on other pages. Ma understands minimal English; she always communicates with the kids in Twi. I know minimal Twi; I communicate with them almost exclusively in English. I love that I’m able to assist her with the little ones in spite of our language barrier.

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It’s 8:30 PM and people are already starting to sleep - volunteer people, that is. There was a television at the orphanage from way back when so Zach got them a satellite antenna (if such a thing exists; otherwise something else) and the boys set it up today so they could all watch TV tonight. Close to fifty watched, a few sat scattered about chatting and such, most of the littlest ones slept, and George and Bismark stood at a radio immediately next to the television listening excitedly to a Manchester United game.

After I put already-sleeping Akofa and Kojo to bed on their respective floor mats, I had my highlight of the evening: singing Chicababy to sleep. She was watching television tiredly and came without pause when I beckoned to her (she’s three years old and still has school for two more days). Rather than risk a screaming child (unlikely but possible), I decided to get her to sleep before laying her down. She was out by the end of The Circle Game. I love camp songs for soothing children to sleep. It was the first time I had gotten to get Chica to sleep. That sassy little three-year-old, with her wiggling hips and baby strut, is destined to be the next Oprah. She’ll live big, d.v.

In exciting news, Marilyn, now back in the US from her visit, found a sponsor for Justice to attend Word of Faith! He’ll start at the end of the calendar year. Emily told him this afternoon and he was brimming with subdued ecstasy all evening at the news. Just this morning, he had come to hang out at the WoF bus stop - the only non-WoF kid there - and Sophie, Niki, and I proceeded to talk the entire way back to the house about how much we would love to see him on that bus rather than watching it pull away. He has the potential to flourish in that environment.

Day 31 - School

Monday, April 11 - Day 31

I got to see the kids up at Word of Faith this morning in their classes, which I absolutely loved. Marilyn, a white woman who teaches the first-grade class there, gave me a tour when Jackie and I took a tro up late morning. Jackie got sponsorship info this trip but will return for a tour when not in workout clothes.

I had two highlights of the tour. The first was watching the little pre-K kids who had just laid down for a nap. Godwyn, the last to go down, stared at me tiredly from his spot on the mat next to Beauty. Even in a room of 20-something children ages 3 and younger, those two are always together. My other highlight was seeing Kwame Adu’s face ligth up in his front-row-center seat when I came to the door of the grade 3 classroom. He gave me a discreet but enthusiastic wave. He can be such a charming kid sometimes.

As per Marilyn at church yesterday, class sizes vary dramatically. She has eleven first-graders and the high school classes looked to have around five kids each but some of the middle grades top 30 students. A future expansion goal is to split those larger grades into two smaller classes.

School today looked like I might expect school to look from my upbringing. Kindergartners colored inside the lines, older kids sat at orderly rows of individual desks learning science or English, and each classroom was decorated with age-appropriate, curriculum-related facts (e.g., definition of an angle, question about average of three football-game attendances, a basic number line; many to most were, happily, math-related). At both Methodist and Catholic school, kids ran amok in the unadorned, uncolorful classroom as teachers met with parents. Here, a teacher’s aide watched attentively as Marilyn’s class continued to work silently in her absence. Kids learned. I can certainly see why the kids find the transition to WoF from Methodist so difficult.

Jackie and I also visited the seamstress this morning. She had been sick since our last visit; I left more fabrics and we will return on Thursday.

Early this evening, George, Bismark, and I walked about an hour to a place George knew of up near WoF where Bismark can get passport pictures taken for his league registration for football. They were out of ink and told us to return tomorrow. The trotro back took under ten minutes, but I enjoyed the leisurely pace of the conversation-quiet walk up there along the busy main road into Dodowa. It’s paved and boasts a constant stream of cars, most only passing through en route to Madina and Accra beyond.

Day 30 - On British Pharmaceutical Recommendations

Sunday, April 10 - Day 30

My cough is slowly beginning to extricate itself from my lungs, where it had settled in recent weeks after a month of a more nomadic existence. The cotrimoxazole I take has been moving it along. What do I know about cotrimoxazole? First, one of the kids is taking it for a persistent cough. Second, a full course (2 tablets morning & night) costs 90 pesewas, about 60 cents US. Third, it’s not amoxycilin-based. And fourth, as Sophie found on a brief phone background check for me, it’s strong enough that the governing British pharmaceuticals body recommends its use in very few situations; one, fortunately, is acute recurrences of chronic bronchitis, my likely ailment. 

The antibiotics situation is mind-boggling here. For sixty cents with no prescription, you can get a full course of a drug the Brits would only use for pneumonia and chronic bronchitis. It’s shocking that any illnesses at all still respond to the drugs. There could easily be a major resistance crisis sometime in the next decade or two.

Speaking of medicine, Justice’s toe is looking great today. The new layer of skin is almost fully formed and the iodine barely stung it. The restorative powers of the human body are a marvel to  observe in action.

Speaking of today, I went to church again today! Jackie and I joined the children for another hot Sunday morning at Word of Faith. Rather than testimonials, there was a sermon this week from Pastor John. He’s a good speaker and followed a couple of Bible passages in encouraging us to repent for any sin as everything matters to God. Pastor John emphatically declared mid-sermon, “Why do you want to look good before me?! I am not God!” Well said.

Life generally continues to be good. It’s gotten easier to manage medicines for 67 kids, too many of them with fevers, between two of us (though the rest of the volunteers stepping back in on Tuesday will be very nice). My clothes are clean and I took a bucket shower recently. I get real food in a week and Jackie and I split two pineapples this past week. The Methodist kids started a five-week school break on Friday and the WoF kids are gearing up for their two-week break to begin this Friday. Goats and chickens, many trailed by 5 or 6 adorable chicks, continue to wander along the dirt roads and among the banana trees. This morning, it rained.