Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Nou toujou remesi ou, paske pou nou, espwa fè viv.
We are always thankful for your interest and support, because for us, hope makes life possible.
Mesi anpil anpil,
(pou tout timoun Mon Bouton, osi La Tournelle, zon Zoranje)
Monday, November 22, 2010
The U. S. students were prepared by extensive coursework and language study prior to arrival in Haiti. The goal of these sojourns was to learn from the rural community, from the host families, ways of doing and living in the rural Haitian environment.
That is, our program emphatically strove to maintain Haitians as teachers and visitors as learners, while emphasizing the synergy that characterizes meaningful cross-cultural encounters.
This approach to “development” stands the traditional development model on its head. Under girding the model are the following precepts:
- Development is about people
- Development occurs between people
- Things don’t change; people do.
In these activities, the Haitians had the technical know-how and the experience; our student teams were the learners.
II. Education in Rural Haiti - Sewing Seeds of Revolution, er, Democracy, with a Hands-on math curriculum
Coupled with the above activities, Dr. Mont-Reynaud brought hands-on math materials and activities to share with teachers in rural Haiti. This pedagogical technology relies on small group games and discussions; such are were unique in the rural school setting. Urban teachers, when shown some of the activities, were as interested as rural teachers to deploy the technologies; Dr. Mont-Reynaud plans to hold training sessions for other teachers in the future.
In this approach, the students are seen as discoverers of mathematical concepts. Dialogue and discussion with peers is key in the implementation of a “democratic” classroom, in which a teacher is more of a facilitator of learning, and less of a font of knowledge. The democratic classroom is considered a springboard to eventual citizen participation in the wider society.
In sum, the educational thrust of “If Pigs Could Fly-Haiti”aims to:
- Provide rural Haitian children and youth with opportunities to interact with city dwellers, Haitians from the Diaspora, Americans and visitors from other world nations.
- Establish shared work projects, with rural Haitians at the helm.
- Devise project-based education curricula for visitors to work together with Haitian teachers, school principals and children, embedding algorithms and science concepts in practical, real-life settings, gardens and fields.
Below, math lab involves, uh, "discussion"!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
My Haitian friends are BIG on clean feet. And shoes. Next morning, Yveline tells me I need a shoe shine. Gotta have it, girl, she insists. She puts her feet down. Or rather, my feet down. Here’s the shoe shine boy. He (and others) is called “Shine” in kreyol. Now, how did that come into the language, and when? My fascination with the ever wondrous changing mysteries of entries into Kreyol takes over…while he actually shines and cleans: my sandals!
Yveline is finally satisfied and I get to ask: How much? I am studying the cost of living here, after all, or rather, as I like to quip, the cost of surviving. I get to ask: So how much do you clear in a day? Is this where you always set up shop? How much for a shoe repair? How much to shine boots?
No time was lost, as he was working while we talked. He would be paid, and I might learn something. All this, for one thin dime.
Workers outside of factories, “ti machan,” shoe shine boys, peddlers of goods (shoes, sun glasses, pastries, water) made out that they had opportunities to earn more than a factory worker, and that they’d rather take their chances as an “independent” on the street, than in a factory job.
The “shine” boys and men spoke of the occasional shoe repairs they did as boosting their daily incomes several times higher than what they heard factory workers earned (they cited 500 goudes as a day’s income, “on a good day.”)
I want to stay, watch, learn more, ask more questions but Yveline decides enough is enough and steers me away towards the gate where she and the other textile workers will soon start their long day.
It is 6:45 a.m. and I will have a huge hot godet of Haitian coffee and biskwit (hardtack in my personal lexicon). Everyone moves toward the gate, flashing their ID badges. I sip my coffee slowly and ponder going home with the "Shine" boy, see where home is.