Chet came with me to Standard Three this morning. Equivalent to grade three, this class has 360 students. It meets in the parish hall because no classroom can accommodate this many children. This arrangement actually gives them plenty of space and the room is light and airy. The class is arranged in groups of ten and each group has a leader who collects exercise books and maintains relative order.
When we arrived, the students were lined up outside. As the boys passed through the door, the teacher insisted they tuck in their shirts. Many children had brought leafy branches from home. These would be used later to sweep out the room.
The first lesson was Maths. The ‘s’ at the end of the word is the way it is spelled here. The teacher had a group of children come to the front. She gave each child a large paper with a three digit numeral written on it. With input from the class, she had them rearrange themselves so the numerals were in correct order: 400, 420, 440, 460, 480, 500, 520, 540, 560, 580, 600. Then she wrote some other numerals on the board and the class’s task was to write them in their exercise books in descending order. Chet and I were asked to help check their work. In no time at all, we were swamped with children wanting their books marked, a check for a correct answer, an X if it needed to be redone. Both of us were dismayed at the situation of children who “didn’t get it.” Trying to explain the concept to individuals seemed futile. There are only about three math books to be shared by members of a group. We could only hope that a friend might help out.
At break time most of the students went outside to an area where a group of mothers were selling squares of cornbread, frozen “ices” in plastic, carrots, guavas and a few late mangoes. Those who’d brought coins from home had a snack. As the class reassembled, they sang a couple of songs with great gusto.
Next on the schedule was English. The teacher again called a small group of kids to the front to act out “May I borrow your ruler?” “Sorry, you can’t. I am using it.” “May I borrow your pen?” “Yes, here it is.” “Thank you.” Then each child was to copy the sentences into their exercise books, inserting the missing words (borrow, can’t, here, thank). Some had it right. Others had copied someone who also didn’t know. And others had done the wrong exercise altogether. We marked books as fast as we could, adding smiley faces in some, printing out the sentences with blanks for the target words for others who had no textbooks.
Why are there so many kids in one class?
The Malawi government has difficulty finding teachers willing to staff rural schools. Housing, critical for attracting teachers, is in short supply. The Namitembo parish is building teacher houses as fast as resources will allow. Of the eight primary schools in the parish, the one here has the largest staff. Situations like the one we experienced this morning are not uncommon.
The textbooks are good, though individual student books are relatively scarce. The teacher’s lesson was similar to many I’ve observed in Seattle. I’d have liked to see student involvement beyond copying the numerals and words. But as we walked away from that classroom, feeling numb, we couldn’t readily figure out how things could be done differently with such an overwhelming number of children. And one teacher.
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