One More

One more party with all the familiar expat faces.

One more new arrival whose name I won't remember, working at some NGO.

One more time: I'm Jess. From the States--Atlanta. I'm a teacher. High school English. KICS, in Gaculiro. Been here about two and half months. Yes, I like it. Live in Kibagabaga--near Kimironko? Will be here at least through the school year in June.

Then on to repeat the litany to someone else, who doesn't care either.


what's the point, really?

Musings for the Void.

In terms of life changes, the year 2008 is going to be pretty hard to beat.

I survived student teaching, and subsequently, I graduated college.

I watched my best friend and sister become a wife.

I said goodbye to my family and friends and moved to Africa.

That last part bears repeating: I moved. to Africa.

Consequently, I have somewhat figured out how to live in Africa (no--I have learned to live in Kigali, Rwanda. I certainly don’t need to further the conceptualization of Africa as a massive, dark shape; I say “I moved to Africa” only to heighten the dramatic effect).

I began teaching. I am now known to 28 high schoolers as "Miss." I’ve conditioned myself to falling asleep before ten and waking up at ungodly hours of the morning, when most rational human beings have at least another two hours left.

I co-purchased a vehicle, and, by God’s good grace, I will soon drive a stick shift.

I’ve learned how to live without paper towels, microwaves, and season 5 of The Office.

I’ve made new friends from all over Africa, the United States, and world.


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So why am I still wondering if things will ever change?

Then you can start to make it better.

It’s amazing how quickly the weeks have filled up since I arrived here over two months ago; nearly every day has something going on. Tuesdays and Thursdays I tutor from 2:30-4. Usually one of those days contains a trip to Bourbon Café or Torero, the new café downtown. Wednesday nights are for the singing and prayer service at our headmaster’s house. Saturday mornings are for grading, and, more importantly, not setting my alarm; Saturday nights are typically reserved for something slightly less depressing. Sundays are church days, movie nights, and the inevitable Sunday night existential crisis about whether or not I can actually teach another week of school.

And then there’s Friday.

Fridays have no designated activity, excepting the institution of the Friday Song (and, more recently, upon the suggestion of a fellow teacher, Friday Chocolate). The Friday Song was designed to inject the drudgery of the workweek with a Springsteenian dose of grandeur and significance--a musical high-five, if you will. There is only one rule for the designated Friday Song: it may only be listened to on Friday, after the completion of another five days that, on Sunday, seemed impossible. Preferably, it should be a song with a slow build, gradually climaxing to a release of epic proportions. The song selection is crucial, since years later, the Friday Song will be synonymous in my mind with freedom and survival and that time that I was 22 and taught in Rwanda and felt anxious and so young and so old at the same time and didn‘t have a clue what I was doing but at least seemed bold and intrepid, right?

The last class exits my room around 2:25 pm. As the last student leaves, I hastily shut the door behind her, and hurry over to my laptop. On goes the Friday Song (currently: Hey Jude, though I’m thinking of doing a monthly rotation); off go the shoes. For the next seven minutes, after my chocolate is eaten, I will dance (actually, more like drunkenly sway) around my room like some deranged hippy. I am careful to avoid the window in my door, lest a passing student peek in and silently confirm that Ms. Merrill has a screw loose.
I can think of no better way to end the week than closing my eyes and losing myself in the euphoria of Paul McCartney’s chorus of nah-n-n-nah-nahs.

One more day.

Great Moments in Teaching, Pt. 1

My proudest accomplishments so far. . .

1) Finding an excuse to show a clip from "The Office" to 9th and 10th graders.

2) Using Joni Mitchell, Bruce Springsteen, Simon and Garfunkel, and Radiohead songs in three different lessons--all within the course of a day.

3) Using "Waiting for Guffman" to illustrate satire to the 10th graders.

4) Incorporating a "Heavyweights" quote into a test.

Just doing my part to empower the future of Rwanda.

Fifth Grade Follies

In addition to teaching all four levels of high school English, everyday I teach a creative writing class for the middle school 9 week rotation. Right now, and for the next three weeks, I have the fifth graders. In case you were wondering, that's five different classes. Every. day. In case you were wondering. . .that's a lot. Oh, and I also recently began tutoring someone for three hours a week. Brilliant.

In other words, I'm a busy woman. It's virtually impossible to stay on top of things--especially for someone like me, who's already prone to disorganization. Very often, I have to let a class fall through the cracks.

Typically it's the fifth graders. My stack of papers to grade for that class has grown embarrassingly large since the beginning of school.

Only last night, however, did I realize what a potential goldmine I am sitting on. I am only hurting myself by not reading gems like this one, a product of yesterday's assignment.

The Assignment: Describe a wedding from the perspective of a young kid and an older person.

I think someone got a little confused...

"An old person can think that there still young. You can make an old person admit that their old if you tell them they can get a free foot massage my mom own a sauna and she really loves foot massage." *

*grammar and spelling unaltered

Great advice from a fifth grader who shall remain anonymous (to you and me both--he/she forget to put a name on the paper. I wish I knew who to thank).

Proof that I am out of the loop.

According to imdb.com, the number one movie at the box office right now is. . .

Beverly Hills Chihuahua???



Dear Lord. What else am I missing?

Thank you, Jennifer.

This is a work of genius.