Miss Newman Goes to Africa: Friday's Farewell

All goodbyes are hard, but this was one of the hardest. After eight weeks together – eight weeks of reading together, teaching together, singing, running, laughing, and becoming part of the Rwentutu School Community, our time together has come to an end. It was a bittersweet day on Friday as we spent time cherishing the relationships we had made this summer while at the same time realizing how hard it was going to be to leave.

When I think back to the first day we came to Rwentutu, when all the kids just stared at us in shock and didn't quite know what to make of us, and when we were "the visitors" who really had no idea what to teach or where to start, it seems like it should have taken longer than eight weeks to get to the point where we are now. But in only eight weeks it has become so comfortable for all of us at the school that Evan, Jackie and I can walk across the schoolyard like we were any other teacher at the school…well, almost :)

We still had kids clamoring for our attention, or crowding around our door at the end of class times to come and play outside (like the little ones in the picture above). We were still learning more about the school, the children, their families, and our fellow teachers. But for the most part, we felt like we belonged, which is something to be said about everyone who is a part of Rwentutu School.

What an incredible school. While I wish I could teach those kids forever, and I am so sad to be leaving, I am comforted by the fact that they are in good hands. The teachers and staff at Rwentutu are wonderful. They care about the kids, they want the kids to receive a good education, and they will continue to provide them with that gift term after term, year after year, and visitor after visitor.

In our farewell ceremony on Friday afternoon, the Headteacher, King James, spoke to us and thanked us for an amazing time together. "We have a saying here," he said, "that an old broom knows all the corners of the house. And while a new broom might sweep better than an old one, it is because old one has known all the corners." I think I can safely say this is the first time I have ever been complimented by being called "an old broom." The three of us this summer were the "old broom" – the first visitors from the United States, and the first students to stay and teach at Rwentutu School for an entire term. The old broom that grew accustomed to the school system, that learned how the school works and how we could figure ourselves into the school in a way that would both respect and enhance the educational practices that were in place. I hope, and I really do think, we have done an adequate job of "sweeping" this first year, and I can't wait for more students to come and pick up from where we left off.

In some ways, I can't believe eight weeks has come and gone, and in some ways I most definitely can. While the days were incredibly rewarding, they were also physically and emotionally exhausting. We gave each day everything we had. Sometimes it was hard. I'm not sure yet how much I miss those chaotic moments when it seemed like all 43 of my Primary Three students needed me to give them paper, spell a word, read a paragraph, sharpen a pencil, give them colors, lend them a pen all at the same time without having me lose my patience, but I do miss the moments immediately following the chaos…when all the students were settled, content, and genuinely happy and grateful to be learning. The days were long, and the days were draining, but the days were always, always worth it.

I wish I could help Beneth finish her book, or once again play Darryne in her favorite game, or kick the soccer ball around a few more times with my Primary Three boys. I wish I could just have a little more time to read with Lyric and Vasta, and I wish I could see the leader that James is going to become. They have all worked so hard, and together we have accomplished so much this summer! The evidence that these kids have grown and developed as thinkers is phenomenal. All summer long I encouraged them to express their opinions and tell me their thoughts, not someone else's. The other day I received a letter from a little boy in my class, James, and it read:

"Dear Teacher Whitney.

Please Teacher Whitney, don't go to USA. You should not go back to USA. Why? Because you said that I should be telling you things which I want. That's why you should not go to USA. I will miss you and shall not forget you.

James"

And then there was Rachael's, whose letter started off like the kids had been instructed (all of them were told to begin, "Dear Teacher, My name is _________, I am in Primary Three. I am very happy to write this letter for you."), but then took a little turn from there. It reads:

"Dear Teacher Whitney.

My name is Rachael. I am in Primary Three. I am very happy to write this letter for you. But actually I am not real happy, and why I am not real happy is because you are going. You teach us good things. I will never forget when we were playing games with you. At our home, I tell my family that I have a friend and she is called Whitney."

I can't make myself believe that I won't be seeing those kids again, but I'm so happy and grateful that we were able to be a part of each other's lives, if only for eight short weeks. In those eight weeks, those kids taught me to live passionately, to live simply, to laugh hard and laugh often, and to cherish everything life has to offer. Never have I seen so many kids who yearn for an education, and I think these kids have inspired me more than I have inspired them.

Thanks kiddos, I love you always :)