Access Denied

“She has no business teaching English at our school.” This is what the director of the high school told the education office head on the phone today. It wasn’t my intention to go behind the school director’s back like this, but as I realize that this is exactly what I’m doing, it is already too late. Ryota, the Japanese Peace Corps-like Volunteer who teaches Physical Education at the high school, and I are trying to start an English Conversation Club for a small group of 11th and 12th grade students. Ryota has been discussing this club with the school director for quite some time with the only result being a vague excuse and ultimate delay. I don’t understand, so I offer to go in there to talk with the director myself. Instead Ryota and I agree for me to go to the education office because the school director says this is where we need the permission to come from. I’m confused as to why anyone would deny a free service that the students are asking for. Honestly, I don’t really like teaching English, but after countless students come up and ask me to, I thought I would go ahead and give the people what they wanted. I never thought I would face resistance like this. (Maybe it is my sense of entitlement.) The director who has said verbatim, “She does not qualify to teach English because she does not have an English Teaching Certificate” obviously does not take into account that I have been reading, writing, listening, and speaking this very language for 23 years. Do I resent this? Yes. Unfortunately, yes. I do a lot of things with the high school students. I have sent students to a Summer Camp in Gonder; an opportunity they would probably never have had. I have unabashedly used a wooden penis to teach them how to properly put on a condom. I wrote a project proposal to establish a student dormitory for rural female students who are at risk for HIV. I have helped strengthen the Anti-AIDS Club. I love working with these students, but I am angry that the director has the audacity to tell me I’m not qualified to teach an English conversation class. He mentioned on the phone to the education office head that the students complained that not everyone had an opportunity to participate in my English Class that I taught last year. A class that was open to all students. A class that was offered in the morning and afternoon to help accommodate students. A class that only 6 students regularly showed up for. I’m wondering if he has a personal vendetta towards me. He may simply not like me. But then I start thinking about the next Peace Corps Volunteer who comes to replace me. Will the school director bad mouth me and refuse to work with him or her? I need to rectify this situation and it probably has to start with me apologizing for seemingly going behind his back. At this point, I don’t even want to teach the class anymore. I now just want to know why he won’t let me even if I did.


After the phone call between the eduation office head, school director, and myself, I headed back to my office. As I was angrily texting Ryota about the recent fiasco, I slipped on rocks and fell down, tearing my jeans and producing enough blood so that when the tears started flowing it covered the fact I was really crying about the situation with the English club. (I’m sensitive and I take things personally, more often than I care to admit.) But as soon as I fell, I was rescued. Just as one person figuratively pushes me on the ground, ten other people are there to literally and figuratively pick me back up.

I went back to my house, which is across the street from my office, to relax a bit. In the middle of all this nonsense, I forgot that I had told the kids at the Orphan Shelter I would come by. I go to the shelter most days of the week and when I say I will be there, I’m there. These kids have all lost a mother or father, some of them both, so I try to be a constant and predictable presence. Once I arrived on their compound, they greeted me with disarming smiles and hugs that simply said, “I’m glad you are here.” I just sat there on the compound with them, not really feeling the desire to teach them today. I realized again that some people, like these kids, like having me around and helping in whatever capacity I can. Selfishly I went to these kids for emotional support and unknowingly, they gave it to me—wholeheartedly.

In the afternoon, I met up with Ryota and we decided to meet with the school director to discuss the morning’s events and reach a conclusion about the English Conversation Club. The director told us to come over to his office. We waited for him. He finally came back to the school. He had another appointment. We waited for him. Another appointment was to be had. After an hour and half of waiting, we knocked on the door and he told us to come back on Wednesday. Thank you for that. Really, I had nothing better to do. It is a long way back to town from the high school, so in my head I’m thinking about all the things I want to say to him, hoping to get them out of my system so I won’t. The town’s crazy lady passes me. She is carrying an umbrella. Usually she would have hit me with it. Maybe it is the scowl on my face or maybe she doesn’t notice one of the only light-skinned people in town, but she keeps on walking. I have already played out the would-have-been fight sequence which involved me breaking her umbrella, but relieved that we passed each other in peace.

I go back home and read a book before I meet my friend for our weekly English lesson. I tell him that the first part of “class” would be listening. Listening to me whine about what happened today. He did, diligently. He reassured me that everyone else in the town loves me. What a good friend. I teach him at least 5 new vocabulary words per week. One of the words was “euphemism.” I taught him a couple that I had been thinking of that day…After we drank our tea and coffee, I headed home. Finally this day was nearing the end. I spotted something near my door that turned out to be an edible present with a note that read, “Don’t be disappointed!! Eat it and get better feeling. I don’t know if you like it. But I like it!! On Wednesday we’ll fight again. Haha!!” It was from Ryota. How can I possible stay angry when I have kids who would give me hugs for days, co-workers who will pick me up, friends that will listen, and fellow foreigners who leave presents at my doorstep? There are too many people in this town who show that they care in their own special way that I simply can’t. So, here’s to Wednesday!