Zombies and Permaculture
I had a rough landing back in my village. The rosy picture that had been painted for my relatives revealed its thorns almost immediately. Two weeks after school had started, I found 600 restless students stuck in their classrooms while 4 teachers sat in the office, apparently unperturbed by this picture. A meeting I had been trying to plan for weeks to discuss the water project evaporated without a trace and in its place I found a trial to determine the fate of a man who had impregnated a 6th grader. Farms were washing away, with no attempt to follow my advice of digging contour ditches. I found comfort working with my awesome 7th graders.

If you had told me 10 years ago that one day I would be teaching sex ed, I would have had a rough time swallowing it. Somehow I myself managed to avoid the dreaded class, probably by fault of moving to Calgary for a year in middle school, and opting to do my high school health class by correspondence.

I realized the class was essential, as teachers seem to skim over this topic, and parents wouldn’t touch it with a ten meter pole. A bright, brave young seventh grader came to me asking some very basic questions about puberty, and I realized that teaching sex ed and life skills might be the most valuable thing I could contribute to the school.

It is customary, whenever a teacher steps into a classroom for all the students to stand up and recite in the most oppressed-sounding of voices, “A good education is the right of every child. We respect you, teacher.” I explained what zombies are, and that if they kept up that greeting, I would be reminded of zombies, and wouldn’t be able to teach because I’d be too scared. My first order of business was to challenge them to come up with something more exciting and motivating to say. We’ll see what they come up with.

When we got to the lesson about puberty, and how girls produce one egg per month, it made them laugh. They decided girls were much like chickens. We also got into a heated argument over whether puberty makes boys more conceited.

The environment club students were asked if they wanted to be farmers or scientists. When it was a unanimous call for “scientists!” we decided to make a garden with half permaculture beds and half traditional beds, and compare the yields. The kids loved learning the English word “double-digging,” and I’d find them practicing it as they worked. They were shocked when I kicked off my shoes and grabbed a hoe to help dig, as it is customary for the teacher just to stand by and bark orders. By the end of two classes we had two beds each of sunflower, wheat, peas, pumpkins, and carrots.