Teacher Workshop in Antsirabe

You’ll have to forgive me for not writing anything in March. To be completely honest, we’re at that point in the semester where everything has become a mundane routine with the exception of an occasional funny comment made in the classroom, such as one of my students responding to my question about how their common exams went with, “Umm casava leaves.”

The class had a good laugh because not only did he not answer the question, but he responded with something completely unrelated. It reminds me of that period in French class during high school when this one kid never knew what to say, so he always responded to every question, “Oui, j’aime la glace.” Yes, I like ice cream.

Anyways, something interesting did happen in March, and I want to tell you about it before the Easter season is upon us and I make my way to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what for my two weeks of vacation. The interesting thing, as you probably guessed, is a teacher workshop in a town just south of here called Antsirabe.

Antsirabe is an interesting place. In comparison with Tana (which has a central population of about 1.4 million and a metropolitan, if you can call it that, population of about 4 million), Antsirabe has a population of about 280,000, which is significantly less than overcrowded and, quite frankly, dirty Tana. The city is located about 100 miles south of the capital and can take anywhere between 4 and a half to 6 hours to drive there. It took us about 5 when I drove there through a torrential downpour and maybe four and a half hours on the way back without any significant traffic. The city rests several hundred feet higher in elevation than Tana which makes it the “coldest” place in Madagascar, reaching absolutely insane nighttime temperatures during the winter in the mid-40s. Mind you, my students get bundled up in winter coats, hats, scarves, and mittens when it’s 65 here in the capital. People claim that Antsirabe is not as populated as the other major cities because of the artic-level climate (relatively speaking). If that’s true, then Malagasy have thinner skin than I thought. If it’s not, then I’m hard pressed to find a reasonable explanation.

I say this because Antsirabe is a cute city with a lot of economic opportunity. Unlike the capital, Antsirabe is flat meaning there are no real taxis, just tuck-tucks and bicycle pousse-poussies (little carts pulled by bicycles). There are a ton of industries like silk weaving, some paper art that I will write about soon, metal work, and other skilled labor. Antsirabe is also the bread basket of Madagascar producing the overwhelming majority of the country’s fruits and vegetables. In fact, if there is a cyclone that cuts off the highway leading to the northern part of the island, major cities like Mahajanga don’t get fresh fruits and vegetables for several weeks, which is kind of insane to think about. Also, the stereotype about Antsirabe is something about potatoes, carrots, and apples. Don’t bother asking me about it, I just know that’s what it is. Likewise, there are a lot of jobs in Antsirabe and significantly less homelessness and begging activity than here in the capital which is hailed as the only place where you can get a job, but is simultaneously impossible to find a job. Some people interpret this an oxymoronic statement of incompatible logic. I take it is, “If this is the only place to find a job, and you can’t find a job at all, how worse off is the rest of the country?” Neither option is great.

“So how did you end up in Antsirabe, Nathaniel?”

What a great question.

In Antsirabe there is a language and cultural center called Lovasoa. It was actually founded by a bunch of Norwegian missionaries and still hosts tons of Norwegian students every year. You can imagine my surprise when I saw a dozen or more very tall, very blonde, very Norwegian looking young men and women. It’s the first time I’ve felt short since arriving in Madagascar. Regardless, I was invited by the language center’s coordinator to come to Lovasoa for a 2-and-a-half-day workshop where I would be working with about a dozen teachers on how to implement more active methods of teaching into their classrooms. I accepted the offer and then realized that I was actually going to be the co-head of the workshop with another English teacher, my new friend Faniry. Mind you, I’ve participated in teacher workshops and trainings in Madagsacar before. In fact, it’s my favorite part of what I do here because the teachers are motivated, it’s more fun, and training those teachers will make a larger and longer lasting impact on the education of Malagasy youth than I ever could going at it alone in the classroom. Nonetheless, I had never been fully responsible for organizing the content for a full workshop. Needless to say, I was nervous and placed great responsibility on myself.

Faniry and I met up one morning and hammered out the full schedule and content. We divided up the work, made a battle plan, and went our separate ways just a few days before the workshop with said battle plan ready to spring into action. Our goal was to combine theory and practice in the workshop, giving our trainees some theoretical background and fundamentals before practicing the activities with them. Indeed, our regional objective during any workshop in Madagascar is to give teachers a real feel of what a student-centered and active methods classroom truly is. They can hear all about the advantages and disadvantages of teacher-centered and student-centered approaches. But to be completely honest, they were all educated in the teacher-centered approach, making student-centered classrooms sound like a mythical place equivalent to the likes of Narnia or Middle Earth, or, even worse, Terabithia, whatever the hell that is.

Consequently, our objective is to do actual activities with them so they can see what it’s like to be a student in a student-centered classroom. We played games, did energizes, brought out language board games, sung silly camp songs, and even had them do basic exercises and organize their own lesson for the end of the training to put that knowledge into practice, all for the sake of getting them to see what Narnia and Middle Earth feel like. This was all coupled with theory and practical discussion such as why it’s hard to speak and listen, how to manage a classroom, what does it mean to be an educator, what is a good educator, how do we assess students, how do we grade, etc.

The workshop went so well and we made huge successes. The teachers ranged from no experience teaching English to 8-years of experience. So needless to say we had quite the array of people. But these are honestly my favorite memories of living in Madagascar. As much as I love the classroom and getting to teach the students, I know that my time here is limited and that, although I will make the most of the present, I need to leave something that is going to remain much longer than I will. Call it a legacy, a lasting impact, a mark, whatever it is you will. To me, it’s nothing short of trying to fulfill my mission of making the education of the English language better for the youth of this big island. Education is more than just acquiring skills and knowledge. Indeed, it’s the formation of youth to become reasonable, virtuous, and active adults, parents, and active members of society. And, because of my economist brain, I know that workshops like this where I can enable teachers to try new things is the most efficient and effective way I can spread that common mission and enable others to do the same. More importantly, it builds friendships that I will have for a lifetime and makes me anticipate the day I get to come back to this crazy island.

As always, know that you are in my prayer every morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.