Learning to Teach

Well, as promised, I am going to describe my experiences this far with the refugees at the Marsa Open Centre in Malta. First of all, if you need a little background information, here are a few video clips and some reports that can give you a little bit of a grasp on the situation.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19227137/?story=waystation
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19227137/?story=village

Yep. This is tricky stuff right here, folks. Although, you know...these video clips make this out to be a pretty desolate situation--but, the way I see it, and the way it feels most of the refugees see it--there is hope for these people. They have not come this far, just to let go of their dreams.

Last Wednesday we were given a tour of the Centre, and introduced to one of the head directors of this named Terry. Man--that guy has a lot of guts. He agreed to take this position to help run the Centre even though many people from his home country (England) thought he was (and still think he is) crazy. Not to mention he, and everyone else who work there, barely receive any money at all--it is a government-funded program. The way that he described the development of the Centre was truly incredible. All it took was one refugee with a dream to make something of himself. One little shop opened up, then another, and another--until a whole "make-shift" village was underway. Terry said that it's been important for him to look at this village and this situation from an insider's point-of-view. He said, from an outside vantage-point this could all be seen as "a load of crap"--but, to these people, it is a start, and it is progress. This is what keeps him and the rest of the Centre going--and this is what I think is so beautiful about the whole village.

Anyway, we didn't actually get to work with the refugees until this week. I will admit: I was nervous. Before we left last Wednesday Terry told us that most of the refugees at the camp had probably already been reading us like a book, and they probably already had their minds made up about each one of us. He explained that most of them have been through more trauma and hardship than we could ever imagine--being able to read people has become a means of survival. Whoa...was I ready for this?? But Terry did give us a great piece of advice that somewhat calmed my fears. Our best learning opportunities would be found though listening and though looking inside the hearts and minds of these people--put the learning in their hands, he said, and our classes would teach themselves. As a future educator, I thought: 'That's one to carry-along in the suitcase of knowledge'...

Then, the time came: it was the day we would begin teaching English to these refugees from all over North Africa. We passed a 'Blacks Out' sign graffitied on a wall as our bus neared the Centre. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer. We got off the bus, and people from The Centre talked, pointed, and smiled at us as we walked to the building where we would be teaching. Deep breath: I can do this.

Terry was right about everything. We didn't come in with lesson plans and there weren't a lot of learning materials available--but it worked. They were just so eager to learn English that anything we could teach them was considered a gift--although, I do feel the gift-giving goes both ways.

During this first session, I worked with one younger man almost the whole time. It was hard to understand his name, and I couldn't really pronounce the name of his country very well--but I really enjoyed working with him. He had a pretty good base of English, and once I discovered this, we talked about many things: where we were from, our interests, colors, fruits and vegetables, jobs, sports, writing a letter...One interesting experience I have to mention took place while we were going over colors. I mentioned purple, green, etc.--and we came to black. He knew exactly what this was, and indicated by saying "Ah", nodding, and pointing to his skin: "black". Something hit me straight in the heart. He was certainly familiar with this word. "Yes", I nodded. Then I pointed to my skin regrettably: "--and, white". I hated that this was how things had to be distinguished, so I quickly added, "--but it doesn't matter!", hoping with all my might that he would understand what I was trying to tell him. He smiled and shook his head right away saying "No, no" and got out some broken sentence to the effect of: "this why you teach English and I learn". I breathed an inner sigh of relief. I knew. He knew. We understood each other.

I am excited that this is just the beginning of our time with the people at the Marsa Open Centre. After only being there for a few hours the past two Wednesdays I already feel like I've taken in soo much. I just hope I can help the refugees in the way that they want to be helped. One thing I can tell you right now though: I have already learned a whole lot--and I know it's just going to continue...