Getting the third degree

The children visited again on my second day. They were getting braver. Although the oldest one (Marlin) still translated for them, there was this amazing change going on. For the first time in their lives, they've got a reason to learn English: they want to speak to me. And so now they're getting together to work out phrases they can ask me. I hear them whispering...

"Old?" 
then another contributes... "What you old?"
A third says "No, no, How you old?"

Finally it comes, a tap on the shoulder. "Teacher, how old you are?" They've all pooled their knowledge and worked out how to ask me a question that they wanted to ask, not something they were instructed to ask by a coursebook or teacher. This is learning in action! Similarly they work out how to ask about my likes and dislikes, my marriage status, and my religion. I'm waiting for them to work out numbers, when I'm sure they'll ask for my phone and ID number. Even the boys are starting to venture onto the verandah, although they've yet to brave a question!

The religion one was interesting, though - I'd decided beforehand to be completely upfront about not being a religious person, both with teachers and children. So when they asked me "Teacher, what your religion?" I said "I have no religion - I'm not Christian, I'm not Muslim." There was a silent moment. Then one little girl blurted out "No religion?" I confirmed this distressing fact. Marlin managed to work out "Are you the only one with no religion?", so I explained that outside Malaysia, many people don't have religion, and they seemed to accept that. Everyone in Sabah seems to be Christian or Muslim, and there is very little choice in the matter, so an adult telling them that she chose not to be religious must have been a strange and unsettling moment for them. I almost felt bad, but then they got over it and asked me if I liked durian fruit. So I think it's alright now...

They all run off for dinner at the hostel (all these kids are weekly boarders, which is why they're wandering the school compound.) But later, I'm lying on my bed reading when a tentative knock comes on the front door, and "Teacher?" They've come bearing their workbooks for Year 6, asking for help with an assignment. Apart from Marlin, most of the girls have very little English, and their workbook was ridiculous, asking them to choose between three holiday choices and then justify their decisions. The holidays were all in Peninsular Malaysia and cost more for a night than most of their parents earn in a month. And I'm not even sure how many of them know what a holiday is. Still. I get them talking about it and they work out a short text. I suppose you have to start somewhere, but it seems a little remote from their real lives to be talking about 4-star hotels. The solar power finishes and the lights go out, but Marlin's friend simply brings out a torch and we carry on by torchlight until late into the night, chatting about schoolwork and play time and their favourite foods.

I love this job. I think I'm the luckiest mentor on the whole project to be in such a remote area with such a chance to make a difference to children's lives. The other mentors tend to live a short drive from the schools, in their own houses, separate from the students and teachers once school is over for the day. But me - I get to live on the school compound and engage with the kids all the time. My permanent house is almost as good - right by the school gates.

Then again, ask me in 6 months, when I've had a continuous stream of children coming through my house practising their English on me every day...