"If your plan is for one year, plant rice; if your plan is for ten years, plant trees; if your plan is for 100 years, educate children."
- Confucius
Since I was a teenager, I dreamed of one day being a math teacher. In Rwanda, of all places, my dream finally became a reality. The class itself began as a student initiative, when some of the older students were researching university opportunities abroad. Realizing that their options were limited without taking the SAT exam, they requested help preparing. The exam is difficult even for Americans, who grew up in the education system for which the test was designed, they were told. But the kids, always eager to push themselves further, persisted. The village happily responded by organizing an SAT class, in which another volunteer handles the English sections and I take care of mathematics. So while I was initially hired as an informal educator at Agahozo-Shalom, within a very short amount of time my responsibilities also included teaching in the classroom.
In many ways, the SAT class complements the math knowledge which the students attain at school. While Rwanda has instituted a number of necessary education reforms over the years, the education system as a whole is still catching up to the west. Schools tend to focus on acquiring information and the memorization of facts, rather than abstract thinking and critical analysis. Even in math classes, the students are taught to regurgitate theorems and equations, sometimes to the point that their exams merely contain problems they have done in class with some of the numbers changed. But to their credit, the kids' understanding of basic concepts and their thirst for knowledge surpass even my own.
The strategies and methods for succeeding on the SAT's, you may recall, are the polar opposite of memorization and spit-back. One needs to be comfortable with abstract problem solving. At first, this scared me. While in a technical sense the students at Agahozo-Shalom have the mathematical background necessary for the exam, I assumed that I'd basically need to start from scratch when it came to the ways in which they approach a problem. Boy was I wrong! Yes, there are still skills and methods which they need to work on. But their zeal to learn, propensity for teamwork, and unwavering determination have made teaching them both exciting and rewarding.
It is the kids' tendency to work together, and the responsibility they have toward one another, which I find most inspiring. Each challenge seems to present a new opportunity for partnership. And when not everyone is up to speed, they'll take it upon themselves to ensure that no child is left behind. Indeed, this spirit of unity and partnership is the best preparation for the real world. We all bring different skills and perspectives to the table, and nothing worth accomplishing can be done alone. Watching the kids behavior, both inside and outside of the classroom, gives me hope for the future.
Interestingly enough, Rwanda's education system has also struggled on the opposite end of the spectrum: practical training. With few natural resources compared to elsewhere on the continent, the only real asset the country has is its human capital. The Rwandan government, therefore, has taken the initiative to capitalize on this by making Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) a core component of its national development agenda. The initiative, implemented in a host of specialty schools across the nation, focuses on imparting practical skills, such as construction, plumbing, manufacturing, and mining, to the future workforce. As of 2012, about 38% of Rwandan students were enrolled in TVET programs. The enrollment is expected to increase to 60% by 2017.
There is precedent for such an approach. Many currently developed countries, such as South Korea, Malaysia, and Singapore, found themselves in a similar predicament in the 1960's. But by focusing on technical and vocational training, they have become inspirational economic models.
Agahozo-Shalom, in fact, will introduce a TVET track to its high school in the coming years. I couldn't be more excited. While some of my boys here struggle in their academics, many could thrive with such an opportunity. One small example: my boy Alain. He has both an unparalleled work ethic and a heart of gold, not a bad combination if I do say so myself. But while Alain doesn't necessarily struggle in school, he's certainly not an all-star either. I vividly remember one of the first days of my carpentry enrichment program. As I began to teach the kids how to use some of the basic tools, Alain started to wander off. Noticing that something was on his mind and assuming that the village may have been a lot for him, I decided to let him do his own thing. About an hour later, when the other kids could barely cut a piece of wood evenly, I turned around to see that Alain had single-handedly built a chair. I asked him about it and his only response was "this is for Mama." My heart melted. Imagine what this kid, with his skills and kindness in hand, could become in the global workforce.
While TVET will be coming too late to the village for my kids to partake in the program, I am confident that the student body as a whole will gain tremendously from it. For now, the students here already benefit from the mandatory Professional Skills program, in which they spend two years studying their choice of information technology, hospitality, or modern agriculture in addition to their studies at school. Thus, Agahozo-Shalom graduates enter the job market with more than just an academic background.
Indeed, Jewish tradition also recognizes the importance of both intellectual and practical education. When discussing the educational obligations a father has to his son, the Talmud delineates three core areas that are essential to one's upbringing. A father must teach his son 1) Torah, 2) a trade, and 3) how to swim. The study of Torah, when done properly, involves the highest degree of intellectual rigor and conceptual acumen. Such mental skills are essential to a meaningful and productive life. But, our tradition teaches us, the ability to think analytically is not enough. In order to truly be ready for adulthood, we are each also required to be self-sufficient. Abstract reasoning without a solid practical skill-set creates a burden on the rest of the community. It is sometimes a tough balance, but both sides are of concern to the ideal member of society.
And what about this swimming business? Some suggest that it is a matter of survival. Under such an explanation, one is not ready for adulthood until he can fend for himself in this chaotic and sometimes dangerous world. But if this were the case, the ability to swim seems like an odd analogy. Self defense could have been a broader and more relevant example. Further, if the lesson is about mere survival, the Talmud could have advised against going into bodies of water entirely, thereby avoiding dangerous situations outright.
I think that the Talmud is telling us something much deeper. While we are encouraged to be both thoughtful and productive, our lives should contain more than just intellectual and vocational activities. There are experiences on Earth that transcend base survival and utility. Between the study hall and the marketplace, the university and the office, lies a world of depth, beauty, and excitement. Engaging in all that this world has to offer is essential to the human experience. Maybe the Talmud doesn't advise against going into the water precisely because everyone should experience the thrill of swimming. What would the world look like if our entire existence was diminished to mere productivity and utilitarian terms? So by classifying swimming as an essential part of one's upbringing, then, the Talmud is subtly reminding us not just to survive, but to live.
Educators, as well as parents, have a responsibility to incorporate all of these aspects when teaching the next generation. The beauty of the Agohozo-Shalom Youth Village, in its holistic approach to education, is that it strives to do just that. At school, the kids learn from some of Rwanda's brightest and most talented teachers. The curriculum includes history, math, economics, science, languages, and technology. And extra-curricular activities such as the SAT class and the debate club complement what they learn in the classroom. As the kids get older, programs like TVET and Professional Skills ensure that the kids are ready to be self-sufficient upon graduation. Last but certainly not least, so much of what ASYV has to offer, from traditional dance to chess, volleyball to movie night, exist because life is meant to be experienced and enjoyed, not just carried out.
The village was constructed specifically for vulnerable youth, but I think children of any background could gain from its methodology. This is because, in addition to the important tangible skills the students are acquiring, they are also encouraged to live by ASYV's set of core values, among which are commitment, respect, and integrity. One value in particular, "learning community," is described as follows: seek and maximize opportunity for growth and development. This is an important value in all walks of life. School doesn't have a monopoly on education. Indeed each staff member at the village, from security to maintenance and everyone in between, is seen as an educator. Hilam, the notorious head chef, is already a role model to the kids here, always happy and eager to guide them through life's difficulties. Agahozo-Shalom reminds us, then, that it really does take a village to raise a child.
Yet educating the next generation, creating a proper "learning community," is not without its challenges. Serious thought needs to be given to what exactly we are trying to teach, as well our underlying motivations. Doris Lessing, the British novelist, put it rather sharply:
"Ideally, what should be said to every child, repeatedly, throughout his or her school life is something like this: 'You are in the process of being indoctrinated. We have not yet evolved a system of education that is not a system of indoctrination. We are sorry, but it is the best we can do. What you are being taught here is an amalgam of current prejudice and the choices of this particular culture. The slightest look at history will show how impermanent these must be. You are being taught by people who have been able to accommodate themselves to a regime of thought laid down by their predecessors. It is a self-perpetuating system. Those of you who are more robust and individual than others will be encouraged to leave and find ways of educating yourself — educating your own judgements. Those that stay must remember, always, and all the time, that they are being moulded and patterned to fit into the narrow and particular needs of this particular society.'"
I happen to be much less critical of the current system than Lessing is. For starters, it is important to remember that our teachers and elders, who have grown up in the same "particular culture" that we inhabit, are sharing with us the wisdom of experience. Yes, their suggestions may seem rigid and accommodating, but they are also time-tested. We are encouraged to heed their advice because, in general, it works. Further, one need not agree with the current culture in order to navigate it. By way of example, one can question and challenge the benefits of the existing system of taxation, but at the end of the day he still needs to pay his taxes. And refusing to teach him how to do so, out of some exaggerated aversion to indoctrination, does more harm than good.
Nonetheless, Lessing reminds us of the pitfalls of the oft overlooked parochialism inherent in modern day education, both formal and informal. In effect if not in intent, all current schooling involves some degree of indoctrination. Especially with educating future leaders, not merely self-sufficient citizens, it is important that we make every effort to not stifle creativity, self-expression, and the urge to challenge the status quo. Exploration and innovation are prerequisites for progress. As an educator, I should be teaching my students how to challenge and question, in addition to how to succeed and accomplish.
The desire to think individually, and not blindly follow instructions, is actually what got me interested in mathematics in the first place. Some say that the beauty of math lies in the existence of a right and wrong. For me, my experience was precisely the opposite. While I understand the appeal of a system of deductive reasoning and logically required outcomes, it is actually problem solving's multiformity that I find most enticing. Believe it or not, most of my enjoyment occurred after I solved a problem. I vividly recall walking into my high school math class acting like a hotshot because I came up with the solution to last night's homework, only to be floored by the fact that the teacher solved it a completely different way. And often, my peers solved it yet another way. I was fascinated. Math's beauty became less about how to solve a problem, and more about how else I could solve it.
If nothing else, this is what I strive to teach my students in class: learning doesn't stop once we arrive at the answer. In fact, it is the ability to look at something a little differently than the rest of society that has helped produce some of history's most innovative and groundbreaking achievements (the wheel, phonetic writing systems, modern plumbing, Pokemon, etc.). We therefore try to solve each problem in more than one way before moving on to the next one, and the kids never cease to amaze me.
It's funny to call myself an educator, formal or otherwise, as I often find myself on the receiving end of learning. The SAT class, indeed the village as a whole, has taught me more than I could have imagined. I have learned that teamwork, in the long run, is the best solution to life's challenges. There is no "one size fits all" approach to problem solving, and creativity should never be stifled. I am experiencing new levels of patience, as well as discovering that dedication and commitment can propel people to unbelievable heights. Finally, I am learning to never underestimate one's potential. Hardships and difficulties are a fact of life, not an indicator of future success.
As the line between teacher and student blurs, I know what it means to truly be part of a learning community.
In many ways, the SAT class complements the math knowledge which the students attain at school. While Rwanda has instituted a number of necessary education reforms over the years, the education system as a whole is still catching up to the west. Schools tend to focus on acquiring information and the memorization of facts, rather than abstract thinking and critical analysis. Even in math classes, the students are taught to regurgitate theorems and equations, sometimes to the point that their exams merely contain problems they have done in class with some of the numbers changed. But to their credit, the kids' understanding of basic concepts and their thirst for knowledge surpass even my own.
The strategies and methods for succeeding on the SAT's, you may recall, are the polar opposite of memorization and spit-back. One needs to be comfortable with abstract problem solving. At first, this scared me. While in a technical sense the students at Agahozo-Shalom have the mathematical background necessary for the exam, I assumed that I'd basically need to start from scratch when it came to the ways in which they approach a problem. Boy was I wrong! Yes, there are still skills and methods which they need to work on. But their zeal to learn, propensity for teamwork, and unwavering determination have made teaching them both exciting and rewarding.
It is the kids' tendency to work together, and the responsibility they have toward one another, which I find most inspiring. Each challenge seems to present a new opportunity for partnership. And when not everyone is up to speed, they'll take it upon themselves to ensure that no child is left behind. Indeed, this spirit of unity and partnership is the best preparation for the real world. We all bring different skills and perspectives to the table, and nothing worth accomplishing can be done alone. Watching the kids behavior, both inside and outside of the classroom, gives me hope for the future.
Interestingly enough, Rwanda's education system has also struggled on the opposite end of the spectrum: practical training. With few natural resources compared to elsewhere on the continent, the only real asset the country has is its human capital. The Rwandan government, therefore, has taken the initiative to capitalize on this by making Technical and Vocational Education and Training (TVET) a core component of its national development agenda. The initiative, implemented in a host of specialty schools across the nation, focuses on imparting practical skills, such as construction, plumbing, manufacturing, and mining, to the future workforce. As of 2012, about 38% of Rwandan students were enrolled in TVET programs. The enrollment is expected to increase to 60% by 2017.
There is precedent for such an approach. Many currently developed countries, such as South Korea, Malaysia, and Singapore, found themselves in a similar predicament in the 1960's. But by focusing on technical and vocational training, they have become inspirational economic models.
Agahozo-Shalom, in fact, will introduce a TVET track to its high school in the coming years. I couldn't be more excited. While some of my boys here struggle in their academics, many could thrive with such an opportunity. One small example: my boy Alain. He has both an unparalleled work ethic and a heart of gold, not a bad combination if I do say so myself. But while Alain doesn't necessarily struggle in school, he's certainly not an all-star either. I vividly remember one of the first days of my carpentry enrichment program. As I began to teach the kids how to use some of the basic tools, Alain started to wander off. Noticing that something was on his mind and assuming that the village may have been a lot for him, I decided to let him do his own thing. About an hour later, when the other kids could barely cut a piece of wood evenly, I turned around to see that Alain had single-handedly built a chair. I asked him about it and his only response was "this is for Mama." My heart melted. Imagine what this kid, with his skills and kindness in hand, could become in the global workforce.
While TVET will be coming too late to the village for my kids to partake in the program, I am confident that the student body as a whole will gain tremendously from it. For now, the students here already benefit from the mandatory Professional Skills program, in which they spend two years studying their choice of information technology, hospitality, or modern agriculture in addition to their studies at school. Thus, Agahozo-Shalom graduates enter the job market with more than just an academic background.
Indeed, Jewish tradition also recognizes the importance of both intellectual and practical education. When discussing the educational obligations a father has to his son, the Talmud delineates three core areas that are essential to one's upbringing. A father must teach his son 1) Torah, 2) a trade, and 3) how to swim. The study of Torah, when done properly, involves the highest degree of intellectual rigor and conceptual acumen. Such mental skills are essential to a meaningful and productive life. But, our tradition teaches us, the ability to think analytically is not enough. In order to truly be ready for adulthood, we are each also required to be self-sufficient. Abstract reasoning without a solid practical skill-set creates a burden on the rest of the community. It is sometimes a tough balance, but both sides are of concern to the ideal member of society.
And what about this swimming business? Some suggest that it is a matter of survival. Under such an explanation, one is not ready for adulthood until he can fend for himself in this chaotic and sometimes dangerous world. But if this were the case, the ability to swim seems like an odd analogy. Self defense could have been a broader and more relevant example. Further, if the lesson is about mere survival, the Talmud could have advised against going into bodies of water entirely, thereby avoiding dangerous situations outright.
I think that the Talmud is telling us something much deeper. While we are encouraged to be both thoughtful and productive, our lives should contain more than just intellectual and vocational activities. There are experiences on Earth that transcend base survival and utility. Between the study hall and the marketplace, the university and the office, lies a world of depth, beauty, and excitement. Engaging in all that this world has to offer is essential to the human experience. Maybe the Talmud doesn't advise against going into the water precisely because everyone should experience the thrill of swimming. What would the world look like if our entire existence was diminished to mere productivity and utilitarian terms? So by classifying swimming as an essential part of one's upbringing, then, the Talmud is subtly reminding us not just to survive, but to live.
Educators, as well as parents, have a responsibility to incorporate all of these aspects when teaching the next generation. The beauty of the Agohozo-Shalom Youth Village, in its holistic approach to education, is that it strives to do just that. At school, the kids learn from some of Rwanda's brightest and most talented teachers. The curriculum includes history, math, economics, science, languages, and technology. And extra-curricular activities such as the SAT class and the debate club complement what they learn in the classroom. As the kids get older, programs like TVET and Professional Skills ensure that the kids are ready to be self-sufficient upon graduation. Last but certainly not least, so much of what ASYV has to offer, from traditional dance to chess, volleyball to movie night, exist because life is meant to be experienced and enjoyed, not just carried out.
The village was constructed specifically for vulnerable youth, but I think children of any background could gain from its methodology. This is because, in addition to the important tangible skills the students are acquiring, they are also encouraged to live by ASYV's set of core values, among which are commitment, respect, and integrity. One value in particular, "learning community," is described as follows: seek and maximize opportunity for growth and development. This is an important value in all walks of life. School doesn't have a monopoly on education. Indeed each staff member at the village, from security to maintenance and everyone in between, is seen as an educator. Hilam, the notorious head chef, is already a role model to the kids here, always happy and eager to guide them through life's difficulties. Agahozo-Shalom reminds us, then, that it really does take a village to raise a child.
Yet educating the next generation, creating a proper "learning community," is not without its challenges. Serious thought needs to be given to what exactly we are trying to teach, as well our underlying motivations. Doris Lessing, the British novelist, put it rather sharply:
"Ideally, what should be said to every child, repeatedly, throughout his or her school life is something like this: 'You are in the process of being indoctrinated. We have not yet evolved a system of education that is not a system of indoctrination. We are sorry, but it is the best we can do. What you are being taught here is an amalgam of current prejudice and the choices of this particular culture. The slightest look at history will show how impermanent these must be. You are being taught by people who have been able to accommodate themselves to a regime of thought laid down by their predecessors. It is a self-perpetuating system. Those of you who are more robust and individual than others will be encouraged to leave and find ways of educating yourself — educating your own judgements. Those that stay must remember, always, and all the time, that they are being moulded and patterned to fit into the narrow and particular needs of this particular society.'"
I happen to be much less critical of the current system than Lessing is. For starters, it is important to remember that our teachers and elders, who have grown up in the same "particular culture" that we inhabit, are sharing with us the wisdom of experience. Yes, their suggestions may seem rigid and accommodating, but they are also time-tested. We are encouraged to heed their advice because, in general, it works. Further, one need not agree with the current culture in order to navigate it. By way of example, one can question and challenge the benefits of the existing system of taxation, but at the end of the day he still needs to pay his taxes. And refusing to teach him how to do so, out of some exaggerated aversion to indoctrination, does more harm than good.
Nonetheless, Lessing reminds us of the pitfalls of the oft overlooked parochialism inherent in modern day education, both formal and informal. In effect if not in intent, all current schooling involves some degree of indoctrination. Especially with educating future leaders, not merely self-sufficient citizens, it is important that we make every effort to not stifle creativity, self-expression, and the urge to challenge the status quo. Exploration and innovation are prerequisites for progress. As an educator, I should be teaching my students how to challenge and question, in addition to how to succeed and accomplish.
The desire to think individually, and not blindly follow instructions, is actually what got me interested in mathematics in the first place. Some say that the beauty of math lies in the existence of a right and wrong. For me, my experience was precisely the opposite. While I understand the appeal of a system of deductive reasoning and logically required outcomes, it is actually problem solving's multiformity that I find most enticing. Believe it or not, most of my enjoyment occurred after I solved a problem. I vividly recall walking into my high school math class acting like a hotshot because I came up with the solution to last night's homework, only to be floored by the fact that the teacher solved it a completely different way. And often, my peers solved it yet another way. I was fascinated. Math's beauty became less about how to solve a problem, and more about how else I could solve it.
If nothing else, this is what I strive to teach my students in class: learning doesn't stop once we arrive at the answer. In fact, it is the ability to look at something a little differently than the rest of society that has helped produce some of history's most innovative and groundbreaking achievements (the wheel, phonetic writing systems, modern plumbing, Pokemon, etc.). We therefore try to solve each problem in more than one way before moving on to the next one, and the kids never cease to amaze me.
It's funny to call myself an educator, formal or otherwise, as I often find myself on the receiving end of learning. The SAT class, indeed the village as a whole, has taught me more than I could have imagined. I have learned that teamwork, in the long run, is the best solution to life's challenges. There is no "one size fits all" approach to problem solving, and creativity should never be stifled. I am experiencing new levels of patience, as well as discovering that dedication and commitment can propel people to unbelievable heights. Finally, I am learning to never underestimate one's potential. Hardships and difficulties are a fact of life, not an indicator of future success.
As the line between teacher and student blurs, I know what it means to truly be part of a learning community.
