Teaching and Learning in Tanzania
by Susan and Vince Crockenberg,
December 15, 2011, page 23.....

Susan
“Teacha, teacha” children shout, as our van bumps into the schoolyard, throwing up the fine, red dust that would cover us for the next four weeks. Extricating me from a sea of children, Carolyn greets me with the traditional Swahili, “Shikamoo” (I offer you my respect), to which I respond “Marahaba” (I accept your respect), a ritual we continue throughout our time together, though our day-to-day relationship is one of warm mutual respect. My charge was to teach English to forty 5- and 6-year olds in a non-governmental school. I felt spectacularly ill prepared for this task, though I learned quickly that, prepared or not, this is what I would do. Carolyn had already taught them to recite the alphabet, count to 100, and identify shapes, colors and objects in English by pointing to them, naming them in English, and having her students repeat what she said. This was the same rote learning I grew up with 50 years ago, but quite different from the way children in Vermont typically learn these days.
Our challenge, we decided, was to expand on Carolyn’s methods, in ways that engaged the children and were feasible within the constraints of a large class, a small classroom and few resources. There were no books of any kind at our school and certainly no drawing paper, crayons or markers. Children brought their own exercise books and pencils; if parents were unable to buy them, children went without. Letter Bingo was such a success that we played it every week. The children loved the song, “My Hat it Has Three Corners,” from which we segued into a math unit identifying, drawing, counting and adding triangles. They also learned to write their names, and, when I was able to produce paper, they drew pictures that we labeled in English and Swahili. They learned a lot; I learned even more.

Vince
“What’s a prime number?” Amina shoots up her hand. “A prime number,” she says in her precise, somewhat stiff British-accented English, “is any number that can be divided evenly only by itself and the number one. Example! Two, three, five, seven, eleven and thirteen.”
“Do this in your head. What’s the lowest common multiple of 12 and 15?” Carlos stares intently at the numbers on the busted chalkboard (the students had no texts to work with), raises his hand and answers, “60!” “Show me.” He does, using prime factorization.
These exchanges are memorable because instruction through the first seven grades in government schools in Tanzania is in Swahili. In grade 8, all instruction switches to English, and Amina, Carlos and their fellow students were struggling to understand and express in English the mathematics they had learned previously in Swahili.
Amina wants to become a doctor, Carlos, a bank teller. To become a doctor, Amina must finish high school – a goal only one-third of current adolescents, predominantly males, attain – and go on to college. And if he can finish high school, Carlos may learn that, with his ability, he could end up owning the bank. For each of them, mastery of English is central to their future success in school and in the workforce.
We learned that getting an education in Tanzania is uncertain, even though school attendance is mandatory. To attend government schools, even the poorest families must pay up to $15 a year at the primary level and $300 for secondary school (for uniforms, food, books and supplies), which many – some with children they took in when relatives died of AIDS – often lack. Agnes is one such orphan whose schooling has been supported by donations. She lives with a caregiver in a one-room house with no running water. On the day we visited her home, she was not in school because she had lost her shoes and could not attend without them. This meant that she missed out not only on learning but also on the porridge the school provides at lunchtime which, for Agnes and many other students we worked with, is their only reliable food of the day.
Without continued financial help, Agnes, Carlos and Amina will likely end their education as too many students do, at the end of ninth grade – or even sooner.

Susan and Vince Crockenberg volunteered for a month this fall in the Kilimanjaro area of Tanzania. Susan worked with 5- and 6-year-olds in a pre-primary school, co-teaching English with their Tanzanian teacher, Carolyn Tamasha. Vince taught math (also English, geography, biology and physics) to 13- to 15-year-olds awaiting the results of a national test that determines whether they attend high school – if they can pay the fees. To support them, we created a calendar of their photos, available with a $25 donation; for more information contact us at vtcrocks@gmavt.net.