Perpendicular perspectives

Thursday, 18 September 2008

It’s 6:45am, and there is a girl scrubbing our bath. I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this, but I must admit… she’s better at it than I am.

Let me explain. I’ve been told before, by other PCVs and by Ghanaian teachers alike, that student labour on a teacher’s behalf is not only common, but expected - by both teachers and the students themselves. Apparently there is some sense of duty and honour conferred upon the students selected to be personal housekeepers to teachers, ranking them up there with class leaders and prefects. Even so, when the knock came at 6:30 this morning, from a female student (males don’t do housework…) with broom and scrub-brush in hand, I was still a little shocked. Her name is Irene, and she told me this is “her job;” she works for my housemate. She seemed surprised when I thanked her for coming, saying simply “I do this… that is why I came”.

It’s an infinite collection of small things like this that contribute to my utterly complete, albeit cliche, “culture shock.” Floundering around and trying to make sense of things, while still regaining my sense of self, is a constant struggle. Where do I stand, where should I stand, on an issue like this one? It’s not as clear-cut as student caning (which is an entirely different issue; one which I will gladly discuss in another arena), but even so I don’t find myself able to mentally resolve it easily. Disregarding the fact that this wasn’t my arrangement at all, but that of my housemate, I am still at a loss. The cultural and moral construct that formed who I am finds itself caught between repulsion at the idea of the Mistress (as in female teacher; me) being entitled to unpaid student labour — and knowledge that to refuse would be seen as a gross affront, by and towards both the student body and my fellow teachers. I, who leisurely sipped a mug of coffee in my pajamas, watching a student who has long been out of bed rush through sweeping, scrubbing, and water fetching in order to make it to morning assembly on time. Yet all the while, I am told, there is a sense of pride enjoyed by those “selected” for such extracurricular duties. Irene told me more than once about how kind my housemate is, how glad she is to work for my housemate, how she considers the woman a mother, and how much she has learned from her. Indeed, the woman whose house I share is an incredibly kind, caring person - and I have no doubt what Irene says is true. In fact the issue my subconscious has is not with my fellow teachers at all, but rather with the system in which we all find ourselves. When all’s said and done… it’s just plain “weird” to me when I see students labouring intently for teachers, and to have all parties involved accept it with ease. And that, in a nutshell, explains the feelings that I’m trying to resolve.

…and on a slight tangent, I find myself just at this second wondering what, exactly, contributed to my present-day mindset: the country I grew up in, sure; the family into which I was born; the beliefs that shape my perspective; the experiences that I’ve encountered. And then… I wonder how much influence the fact that I never actually attended school in my life, before university, comes into play. Is the student-teacher relationship in this country something that shouldn’t strike me as so adverse after all? I don’t know. I do know that my lack of formal “public school” experience does still contribute to how I approach teaching and what I put into - and get out of - the classroom now. (On even more of a tangent, I also must admit that learning the basic structure/order/schedule/idea of a Secondary School - not just in Ghana, but in general - during Training scared me silly. It was all so completely foreign; I felt totally out of my element and actually doubted my abilities as a teacher. ‘No one else is having trouble with these ideas, what’s MY problem?!’ Which, in retrospect - considering some of the arrogant ideas I had during my self-possessed, pompous years as a teenage homeschooler - I find very funny. :) )

Anyway. Ultimately I’m not going to change the system, and that’s not my intention in any case. Maybe what bothers me most is that there are actions I don’t like, whether from a cultural or personal standpoint, that others don’t even notice enough to mind. It doesn’t matter if it’s student labour, school caning, bureaucratic corruption, or blatant sexism. Yet my mind sees the possibility of morphing slowly into one of “them” - other PCVs, other teachers - and accepting what once appalled me without a second thought. Maybe I can see that happening… and I’m not sure I can accept what it means.