Mich and school
It's almost a month since Mich started kindergarten in Kampala. We figured it would be a good experience for him, interacting, playing and learning with other kids.
The first day was a sweet sour experience, dropping him off and saying “bye Mich, see you later, be a good boy, have fun, don’t fight, I love you”. Now I know you may say, wasn’t Mich going to play school in Philly, why does school here have to be such a shake up? I don’t know.
I’m thinking that maybe it’s the seriousness with which school is regarded over here. In Philly reporting time was 9 o’clock, kids of all ages were in the same play area. There was no formality to it, no uniforms, and no classes as such. All I needed to do was sign him in, and make sure he has entered the class. From that point it was up to him to either join the kids playing with Lego, running around, painting, fixing puzzles, reading or playing instruments. Then at some point they would go to the play ground run around, have a little snack, listen to a story and then go home.
Mich’s first day at Aga Khan;
We drive into the school parking lot and the head mistress and one other teacher are eagerly welcoming children as they are being dropped off by their parents/guardians. Mich was given extra attention because this was his first day of school, we were escorted to the administration block where we met his class teacher. She had a wonderful smile and was extremely enthusiastic, it was a little scary. Then again she wasn’t the only one; all the other teachers had similar energy and enthusiasm. I thought hmm these teachers seem to love the children like they were their own, that’s a good thing.
Three hours later when I went to pick Mich up, I found them all seated on the school veranda waiting. Mich wasn’t there though, he was moving around with one of his teacher.
When I asked him how his day was he put on his serious face and said it wasn’t good, he didn’t like it. There was no explanation for why it wasn’t good, either that or he didn’t want to talk about it. The funny thing is he couldn’t stop talking about the different things he did, that left me a little confused.
Next morning he didn’t want to go to school so there was a lot of talk about how cool he would look in his new uniform and stuff, before I knew it he was off. He left me with instructions to be there on time, he wanted to find me waiting when he got out.
It’s interesting watching the kids, they all seem quite content, skipping around, taking interest in any adults around, talking to each other, smiling, laughing – it’s clear that they love school and they are loved. I saw this one little boy run towards one of the teachers and wrap his arms tightly around her legs – he was clearly thrilled to see her again after the holidays. That was a sign that the teachers are good.
So I waited for school to end and then children started trickling out of their classes to the waiting area.
I saw Mich bouncing along with a big grin on his face, he was clearly happy, he said ‘mummy today was a little better’, I knew that was an understatement because he was obviously tripping over himself with a wealth of stories.
The first day was a sweet sour experience, dropping him off and saying “bye Mich, see you later, be a good boy, have fun, don’t fight, I love you”. Now I know you may say, wasn’t Mich going to play school in Philly, why does school here have to be such a shake up? I don’t know.
I’m thinking that maybe it’s the seriousness with which school is regarded over here. In Philly reporting time was 9 o’clock, kids of all ages were in the same play area. There was no formality to it, no uniforms, and no classes as such. All I needed to do was sign him in, and make sure he has entered the class. From that point it was up to him to either join the kids playing with Lego, running around, painting, fixing puzzles, reading or playing instruments. Then at some point they would go to the play ground run around, have a little snack, listen to a story and then go home.
Mich’s first day at Aga Khan;
We drive into the school parking lot and the head mistress and one other teacher are eagerly welcoming children as they are being dropped off by their parents/guardians. Mich was given extra attention because this was his first day of school, we were escorted to the administration block where we met his class teacher. She had a wonderful smile and was extremely enthusiastic, it was a little scary. Then again she wasn’t the only one; all the other teachers had similar energy and enthusiasm. I thought hmm these teachers seem to love the children like they were their own, that’s a good thing.
Three hours later when I went to pick Mich up, I found them all seated on the school veranda waiting. Mich wasn’t there though, he was moving around with one of his teacher.
When I asked him how his day was he put on his serious face and said it wasn’t good, he didn’t like it. There was no explanation for why it wasn’t good, either that or he didn’t want to talk about it. The funny thing is he couldn’t stop talking about the different things he did, that left me a little confused.
Next morning he didn’t want to go to school so there was a lot of talk about how cool he would look in his new uniform and stuff, before I knew it he was off. He left me with instructions to be there on time, he wanted to find me waiting when he got out.
It’s interesting watching the kids, they all seem quite content, skipping around, taking interest in any adults around, talking to each other, smiling, laughing – it’s clear that they love school and they are loved. I saw this one little boy run towards one of the teachers and wrap his arms tightly around her legs – he was clearly thrilled to see her again after the holidays. That was a sign that the teachers are good.
So I waited for school to end and then children started trickling out of their classes to the waiting area.
I saw Mich bouncing along with a big grin on his face, he was clearly happy, he said ‘mummy today was a little better’, I knew that was an understatement because he was obviously tripping over himself with a wealth of stories.
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