Reservoir of Sass

Happy one year in Bol anniversary to me! I celebrated by being crabby with my kids. It was one of those thin skin days when I really feel the constant harassment – I mean, when I let it get to me. So I was annoyed by the time I got to school and things just went downhill from there. I was on the brink of walking out of class several times, but steeled myself because a) I knew it would just make me more frustrated and b) I remember thinking that teachers who walked out on class were lame. So I stayed and toughed it out.

But my day improved significantly with this afternoons’ meeting of Girls’ Club. I’d been dreading it as I’m not really a fan of failure and since the aforementioned train wreck, I’ve been a little touchy about the f- word (that being…ahem…failure). I got there right on time to find zero girls waiting for me. I spent a half hour chatting with Berthe, an “assisstante sociale” who has office hours when youth can come ask her about contraceptives, sexual health issues, or condoms. Finally, at 4:30, 3 girls showed up. Since I had such a wonderfully simple session prepared, which consisted of a discussion about sexual harassment at school, we were able to jump right in. I’d thought they’d be shy about discussing the topic, but they were full of stories about teachers impregnating 12 year olds, inviting girls to their house, offering grades for sex, etc. 2 other girls showed up and we really got into discussing the causes/consequences of it. Though they said that it wasn’t the girl’s fault, they were also critical or judgmental of the girl. I understood their perspective as “Yeah, the teacher comes on to everyone, but if you accept and get pregnant, you’re a shameful, dirty slut.” But then when I brought up the idea the girls are raised to submit to males (including teachers) maybe some girls just aren’t strong enough to say no, they wholeheartedly agreed. So, I don’t know. We didn’t really hit any groundbreaking insights, but it was a lively conversation.

One of the girls in the first group to walk in was my favorite of favorites, Marietta. She was in my 6e class last year, my summer class, is in my 5e this year and English Club. She’s from Moundou, way down south, but came here with her Dad who’s a math teacher. She’s about 15, petite and looks super sweet – great big eyes, button nose, cute little voice, but Marietta possesses a grand hidden reservoir of sass. She’s so active in class, which is so rare among girls who generally sit silently and let the boys respond. She’s the kid who’s got her hand up for every question so that I often have to ignore her to get other students to respond. In today’s discussion, she offered several strategies for avoiding sleazy teacher situations and when I asked what she would do if a teacher invited her to his house she said with her sweetness/sass, “I wouldn’t go .” Plus, she always calls me “teacher”, which to me is about the most honorable thing you can call someone besides maybe “mother” or “father.” Notice, I said, “to me it’s the most honorable”. I don’t mean to knock the civil engineers or computer scientists of the world. I’m just saying that when my kids call me “teacher,” it makes me feel warm and fuzzy.