This morning (26.9.2010), my first Sunday of classes, was a whirlwind. Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed at 6:30am to get ready in my ant-invested bathroom at the “hotel” (let’s be real, it’s a dingy hostel), ate breakfast (the best 3 Egyptian pounds spent and the one thing our hostel does well), and took a deep breath before embarking on a full day of teaching (3 classes, for a total of 6 hours).
A long tangent: Yesterday, Grace and I met two of my second year students at the ritzy mall attached to the Four Seasons. Maiar and Maha answered our numerous questions, all beginning “How do you say…….. in Arabic?” Then, Grace shopped as I danced around questions such as “How do I work in America?” and “How can I get a visa?”. After I got past those inquiries, which I expect will be asked by most of my students at some point or another this year, we discussed what a typical day looks like for them. They explained that as girls they spend a lot of time at home with their families, and it is only appropriate for them to go out on a Thursday night once a month. Any more frequently and they will be seen as “one of those girls.” Oh, and smoking sheesha is a no-no for respectable Muslim girls… hmmmm, well that doesn’t pertain to me.
After a few hours of mall-trolling, I was exhausted and ready to get dinner. As for ways to get back down the Cornish to our hostel, there are multiple options. 1) Tram; it runs parallel to the Cornish, from Ramel Station (next to our hostel) towards the west, passing the University, our apartment, and then past this mall. The tram costs less than $.05 no matter the number of stops, but it is very slow. 2) Taxi; these do not have meters like the ones in Cairo, though, and we have yet to figure out what to pay. 3) Microbus; this is like a taxi, but it is communal and makes many stops along its set route. The only ones I know of run along the Cornish in both directions. The price is not set, no surprise there, but is less than a pound for most trips. Note, however, that the microbus is on the danger list espoused by the Embassy security officer last week.
Oh well. Maiar introduced us to the convenience of the microbus. It works like this: Flag one down, yell out your destination to the driver (he then may or may not stop for you), pile in, pass your money to the front via the other passengers, and then wait for change to be passed back (and the fare might be discussed communally as well). Then, get the driver’s attention when you are ready to climb over the other passengers to exit the still-moving vehicle. It’s totally safe, promise.
Returning to my story about class this morning, I decided to take a microbus by myself to campus (I know, I am super adventurous!). The tricky part came once I arrived to the university, though. There are multiple gates to enter campus, each guarded by multiple men (some are tourist police, campus security, and random men who most likely have no authority at all). I was asked to produce the university ID I do not posses, so flashed my passport instead while trying to explain in Arabic that I am an English teacher, and a late one at that. They obliged, but only after I flashed my pearly whites…. Ha!
And now the mayhem begins. You would think that I would expect things to be chaotic and unorganized, but it still caught me by surprise that my classroom lacked a means to play the CD required for my listening lesson. I was told there would be a stereo or computer, but of course there was not. I spent the next 15 minutes running around the building looking for something to play the CD, but I came up empty handed. There went my lesson plan, and the first phrase I taught the class, “wing-it.” This might be my mantra for the year, but such is life as a teacher in the public Egyptian school system.
I am actually glad that there wasn’t a CD player because class ended up being awesome. Once I composed myself and laughed off the situation with my students, we spent the rest of class brainstorming discussion topics to incorporate into the course this semester. I walked around, meeting with each group, talking with the students to gauge their level of speaking and comprehension. Much to my surprise given the pessimistic assessment by the teachers from my training in Cairo, these students are able to communicate quite well in English. I was very encouraged by their excitement and willingness to participate. Yes, there are a ton of students and the size of the class is unruly at times (mid 30s), but their ideas are great.
I repeated this activity with my other classes, and interestingly a lot of ideas repeated. These included facebook, male domination, the internet, love, arranged marriages, and gender equality. It is also worth nothing that most of my students are female, and nearly all of them wear the hijab (and a handful in each section wear the niqab).
After this class (as will each of my classes), many of the students wanted to talk with me about their nervousness when it comes to speaking English, ways they can improve, why I want to learn Arabic and why I am in Egypt, and even what movies they should watch (I asked them to watch an American movie and to write a summary of the plot and character interactions for homework). They seem eager to learn from me as a native speaker, but the students are also very whinny. They prefer to be babied and spoon-fed, instead of being given loose guidelines through which they can express their creativity. I want to enable them to think more independently and critically, but I must also be realistic and understand this is not a trend in their university education.
It might take a while for me to adjust to so many students in one class, the blank stares on many of their faces throughout the lesson, and their desire to have everything explained explicitly. But, you know me. I enjoy being a rebel (at least intellectually); so here’s to bucking the Egyptian education system!
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