Students finished their day at Bellville and went out again with host families (while we adults went to Lita's gorgeous home for a lovely braai and oryx pie).
We gathered them on the stage to process their thoughts and observations. As I wrote yesterday, this is a critical moment in their trip, as they see so much so loudly through their homestays in Bellville. We also focused on some of their experiences with male-female interactions, which continued in the halls and in other corners to stand out for them--or rather, for the girls, some of whom had repeated unwanted attentions.
I met with a couple classes yesterday, a grade 9 English class and a grade 12, and we talked about the usual things they like to discuss with an American teacher about schooling differences: how we grade and test our students, how we divide up our terms and lesson breaks, what we eat at lunch and what sports we play, how discipline works. I asked them a few questions, too. But then I asked, in both classes, about the moments in the Q&A during yesterday's assembly when boys called out for one of our students' numbers, and when another asked if it hurt when she fell from Heaven. I explained that in America, we have been trying to teach our boys not to behave like this. And so, I asked, is this normal here, for boys to feel comfortable being so obnoxious to girls, even though it leaves the girls no good response and makes them feel dirty and unsafe? I used my magical powers as an ignorant American to blunder into a conversation probably too sensitive otherwise, magical powers that are the bridge our American students provide between Isilimela and Cape Town. The grade 9s said it was just the older boys, and they were arrogant and immature. The grade 12s said it was just immature people, and anyway, perhaps the difference between American and South African humor is wide. Ah, humor: I pointed out the social force in laughter, and how uncomfortable it is to be on the wrong side of it--wanting to fit in, we join in on laughter; but this laughter is a powerful way to reinforce social roles and cultural ideas, many of which benefit someone but hurt someone else. Ultimately, the grade 12s said most boys at Bellville are gentlemen. I don't doubt it. But the benign or chivalrous behavior of gentlemen is also not the same as the dignity of feminism I claimed we are trying to teach and embrace back home.
When observing another culture, it's so easy to see that boorish behavior is not just about one individual being immature or trying to be funny. It's a whole culture providing the comforts and support that allow someone to behave that way. What we observe and feel here confers on us another lens: A) In our American culture, too, it's not enough to simply call out or discipline individuals for what feels to us like individual behavior. B) Cultural change requires teachers.
Our students are these teachers.
From our circle on the stage, students made observations about gender and race--through Bellville, towards Roosevelt and Seattle, towards Isilimela and Langa, back again towards Bellville and Hoërskool Bellville. Ultimately, we discussed the contours and comforts of power and the survivals and triumphs of those able to see these contours most vividly, by dint of struggle, neglect, abuse. We talked for three hours. Perhaps they are ready to teach.
We gathered them on the stage to process their thoughts and observations. As I wrote yesterday, this is a critical moment in their trip, as they see so much so loudly through their homestays in Bellville. We also focused on some of their experiences with male-female interactions, which continued in the halls and in other corners to stand out for them--or rather, for the girls, some of whom had repeated unwanted attentions.
I met with a couple classes yesterday, a grade 9 English class and a grade 12, and we talked about the usual things they like to discuss with an American teacher about schooling differences: how we grade and test our students, how we divide up our terms and lesson breaks, what we eat at lunch and what sports we play, how discipline works. I asked them a few questions, too. But then I asked, in both classes, about the moments in the Q&A during yesterday's assembly when boys called out for one of our students' numbers, and when another asked if it hurt when she fell from Heaven. I explained that in America, we have been trying to teach our boys not to behave like this. And so, I asked, is this normal here, for boys to feel comfortable being so obnoxious to girls, even though it leaves the girls no good response and makes them feel dirty and unsafe? I used my magical powers as an ignorant American to blunder into a conversation probably too sensitive otherwise, magical powers that are the bridge our American students provide between Isilimela and Cape Town. The grade 9s said it was just the older boys, and they were arrogant and immature. The grade 12s said it was just immature people, and anyway, perhaps the difference between American and South African humor is wide. Ah, humor: I pointed out the social force in laughter, and how uncomfortable it is to be on the wrong side of it--wanting to fit in, we join in on laughter; but this laughter is a powerful way to reinforce social roles and cultural ideas, many of which benefit someone but hurt someone else. Ultimately, the grade 12s said most boys at Bellville are gentlemen. I don't doubt it. But the benign or chivalrous behavior of gentlemen is also not the same as the dignity of feminism I claimed we are trying to teach and embrace back home.
When observing another culture, it's so easy to see that boorish behavior is not just about one individual being immature or trying to be funny. It's a whole culture providing the comforts and support that allow someone to behave that way. What we observe and feel here confers on us another lens: A) In our American culture, too, it's not enough to simply call out or discipline individuals for what feels to us like individual behavior. B) Cultural change requires teachers.
Our students are these teachers.
From our circle on the stage, students made observations about gender and race--through Bellville, towards Roosevelt and Seattle, towards Isilimela and Langa, back again towards Bellville and Hoërskool Bellville. Ultimately, we discussed the contours and comforts of power and the survivals and triumphs of those able to see these contours most vividly, by dint of struggle, neglect, abuse. We talked for three hours. Perhaps they are ready to teach.
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