It's 7am and the students are pouring into Mustamudu Lycée. They wear the "uniform" of high school students: a red T-shirt and black pants or skirt. In spite of the heat the girls wear extra layers in the name of modesty and cultural tradition. They would never leave the house without their shiromani (a long sari-like cloth wrapped around the body) and a large scarf that covers their hair, neck, and shoulders. I get heat stroke just looking at them.
A guard is posted at the entrance to the campus (which looks like something out of a post apocalyptic teen movie) to catch students out of "uniform" or those who are tardy. No such rule exists for teachers. Tardiness is something of an epidemic here. "Island time" they call it. Locals laugh at foreigners' obsession with time. Being late is partly a result of cultural relations to time but it is also a result of practical delays. Many of my students walk miles over rough terrain or take a crowded taxi-bus from outlying villages.
Many students board together in the city in less than desirable conditions for the opportunity to attend high school. Their class size will drop as they lose the funds to pay school fees, are forced by necessity to find employment, or (for the girls) end up married. With all they face I can't find it within myself to be overly critical when a student is a few minutes late. I'm just glad they showed up at all.
Teachers are just as likely to be tardy or absent. On first discovering this I was horrified. A classroom full of students and no one to instruct them. Shame! It's hard to stay on my high horse when I remember that these teachers haven't been paid in months. They might as well be volunteers at this point. Teachers here receive a lot of criticism, but they do what they can under the circumstances. The classes here have upwards of 40 students, no text books or materials, no electricity or resources. Still, many of the students are better educated in math than I am.
One of my biggest surprises when entering a Comorian classroom was how unexpectedly old my students are. Though they are the equivalent of US 10th graders, many of my students are in their 20s. Some were delayed entering Quranic school as children, some had to wait for funds to travel to Mustamudu for high school, and others had to drop out for a time. For all their struggles they are remarkably like teens and young adults from anywhere in the world. Some struggles they face are ubiquitous to high school students everywhere and some are unique to their circumstances. I'm just honored to have the opportunity to improve their outcome.
When I enter the classroom the students stand and yell "Good morning teacher!" For some of them this is pushing the limits of their English ability. They smile just the same. They have faith that everyday brings the possibility of improvement.
