Political education

For a second, I forgot that I don't believe in politics. I forgot to be cynical and realist (or perhaps negative as many like to argue the difference with me.) I went around the room asking teachers to symbolically stand up in a vote of no confidence for the appointed leader. President of the board. I had no desired outcome in mind, already having spoken directly to the outgoing president who confirmed that teachers had no grounds to oppose the "voted" president. Of course, he ran unopposed and so, how could one really argue.

Except the turn out at this particular meeting was the largest the school had ever seen. And the analogy is only fitting when one equates it to the presidential votes in the US. People only come out when they think it matters most. People showed up to vote for a change in the constitution. The proposed change concerned the title of 'missionary member' and amending this to be simply 'member at large.' While there were some surprising speeches in favor of opposing the change, in general it seemed a small turn of wording. While one parent spoke of roots and tradition, in general it seemed that, were the missionary community to rally its members, the change could benefit them as well. They needn't be limited to one post, but could occupy many seats on the board- if so organized. The very fact that this proposition was offered to the community twice and twice it passed seemed to speak volumes for the changing demographics of the school. We are not a religious school; we are an American school.

In exploring exactly what that means, members of the board spoke strongly for a sense of community, regardless of skin color, regardless of religion, regardless of country of origin.  They spoke of the reality of students that we face in our classrooms everyday- Muslims whose best friends are Hindus and Indians whose best friends are Africans. We are a community of learners who transcend racial, religious and ethnic backgrounds. Our board should reflect this.

For the teachers, a greater issue was the vote for president. Our preferred nomination was not allowed due to regulations that require an American citizen to be president. Initially, I could agree. But the more I reflected, the more I questioned this policy. My preferred candidate greeted us in more than 5 languages. He demonstrated clear effort in conflict resolution and showed respect to all parties present.  He appeared more than qualified and presented a global mindset.

It required me to reflect upon what our school offers that is uniquely "American." It is easy to respond quickly with "American education system" or "American philosophy of education" but as time passes and our school evolves I wonder if that remains true. We are more than an "American" system of education. We have surpassed many of the problems that continue to plague the majority of American teachers. We have begun to arrive at a truly global system of education and I began to wonder if our board shouldn't be able to reflect that fact. It is not only an American who can guide us, but someone who truly understands the nature of an international society.

As I roamed throughout the room, asking teachers if they would symbolically stand against the vote for president, not to make change but to express our displeasure,  I was confronted with a surprising fear of speaking out. Many teachers agreed to rise, but refused to be the initial voice. Many teachers made comments like, "But is 'so-and-so' really going to stand? He's over there talking to the future president's wife?" and "Well, I'll stand but I'd feel awkward speaking out since I am working here next year" or, "Well, I am going to an event at his house next week so how can I speak out against....oh, ok. I guess I can stand with everyone else. Are you sure they are going to stand?"

And in the end, we all stood but were represented by a voice that wasn't as clear or concise, or nonvolatile  as we needed. Perhaps I could have been that voice, but it hadn't really occurred to me to be the one. I don't have the fear that others expressed- perhaps naively so- perhaps due to my limited exposure to personal contact with said candidate- but mostly because I feel invisible. When it comes to the board, I see them twice a year as I present a state of our school. I try to make them understand what it's like to work in this country, with our resources, with our vast population of students and variety of parental support, with challenges we face everyday trying to educate and guide our students - their children- along the path of responsible, knowledgeable and involved citizens. But otherwise, I feel vastly on my own. With my partnership of colleagues to support me.  The board is a separate entity that makes decisions based on values completely different from my reality.

It's entirely too much like voting for president. It is possible to get passionately involved for a moment, but in the end, after it all works out the way politics do (that is to say along familial, friendly and money lines) life seems to carry on pretty much the same for us common folk. We toil along, largely unnoticed, hugely unappreciated and often with small but steady results. For a moment, I thought making a stand could make a difference. But to truly make a difference, one needs dedication, perseverance, planning and a long term vision. One needs organization and a strong supportive network.  And one needs to be doing it, not for personal gain, but for the greater good. Yeah. Sounds like superman to me. Or maybe that Mustafa guy that holds a British passport and therefore doesn't qualify to lead an international school into a truly global mindset.  What it doesn't sound like is what happened tonight.

A "vote" with only one candidate running and too many write-ins of 'no confidence" that really led nowhere. What we learned this year in our 5th grade government unit is that a democracy is really just a "majority rules' system- the bullies can knock your door down and confiscate your house if that's what most of the people want to do. Majority rules.

The real problem is apathy. Why weren't there more candidates to chose from? Where were all the American families concerned about their child's education and the direction of the school? It seems the truth is, most of the long term inhabitants of Kinshasa, who are able and willing to send their children to our school, are not Americans by birth or upbringing but Americans by passport. Americans who may have passed minimal time there and returned to Kinshasa to continue family businesses. And so I argue, to myself, why not a Brit or a Chinese or any other ethnicity that has chosen to live and raise their children here and seeks an education that reaches beyond the boundaries of this country or their home country but seeks to integrate a truly world wide exposure and experience for the future generation.

They were truly great. The future generation who provided music and song for us, to relieve the tension,  to celebrate our fragile sense of community, to remind us of why we had all gathered in the first place.But in the end, it seemed politics as usual.

Silent Night

It's 2 am in Congo and for the first time ever I have been awakened by silence. Even the bullfrogs are quiet. Since moving to upper campus, I have found my evenings marred by loud, rumbling trucks as they pass at all hours. Less interruptive is the call of the taxi buses, singing out their destinations as they pass. Sirens also make an odd appearance in the cacophony of late night sounds, and I usually remind myself that there aren't many Western style ambulances or police cars (where are those sirens coming from?) Apparently I have gotten used to all this, as we humans are wont to do, and this early am it seems the absolute quiet has driven me from slumber.

It's election night in DRC and not a sound can be heard. I could almost be back in upstate New York with only the crickets to serenade me in these wee hours. The late night revelers have vanished, the overly loud music unplugged, the drummers retired indoors. But I know all are not sleeping. Somewhere, people are planning, configuring, and conspiring. Maybe they're counting too.

After weeks of speculation, I was surprised to hear a friend express hope for the results. "The time to speak was long ago," I argued, "when they were passing the law of one round." I can't imagine the results being anything other than favorable for the incumbent. It has always seemed the anticipation is not for the results but the response. How will the Congolese react to what must be a certain, if not altogether accurate, declaration? It seems impossible to know the true will of the people with elections passing this way. But it must come as the first step in achieving change.

Congolese voters search for their names before voting

Voting can be a powerful, empowering process. But it can also lead to intense emotional frustration. I spoke to some Congolese who, on the eve of election, still hadn't decided who they were planning to support. As I spent the day washing dishes in buckets and wondering how long our water reserves would hold out, I found it hard to imagine how anyone could be in favor of the status quo. But expectations are different here, life experience is different and people vote along passionate lines.

Of course, with no candidate debating or discussing of prominent issues and potential solutions, it may be hard to cast a vote inspired by anything more than passion. And blind belief.

Queue outside a polling station in Kin