In movies, TV shows, or blogs, we frequently read about
people who go overseas to the developing world and do great things. They
discuss it so flippantly, like it was absolutely nothing: “Yes, I started a
library at a primary school. It was so heartwarming to see those children lost
in the joy of reading for the first time in their lives.”
I would like to find these people, and I would like to ask
them a few questions. Did you train a local to be a librarian so the library
can function properly? Did you pour the money in yourself, or did you engage
the school? Did you order the shelves from a store or hire a local carpenter?
Where did you get the books? Are the books appropriate for young ELL? Have you
taught the children proper book handling to preserve the life of the books?
Have you discussed a budget with the head teacher to make sure the library will
be maintained financially? Did you form a library committee of students and
adults? What are the library rules and hours of operation?
Most importantly, did you ask the school if they wanted a
library?
Ladies and gentlemen, I started a library at my primary
school. So far, it has been one of the greatest challenges I have ever faced,
and the hardest part isn’t even here yet. Do you know why it’s hard? It’s not a
project to feel good about myself and the charity I do. It’s a project that I
am acting as a consultant on so the proper locals are engaged and invested in
what is ultimately their library. For a young American over-achieving control
freak recent college graduate, taking the back seat and keeping my mouth shut
is nearly impossible. Here’s how my first project is going so far.
When I walked in to what would be my library for the first
time, I was not particularly pleased. It is an old classroom. The windows don’t
lock and the door has no lock, which means the books could get stolen or rained
on. There were no shelves. There were piles of boxes of books everywhere. These
books were from an old library that my very favorite charity, World Vision,
founded. They, of course, dumped the books and left (if you don’t know, I
really really really really passionately hate the way World Vision operates).
The library lasted a few months in 2007 before it fell apart.
Piles and piles of books |
The pile just kept growing |
A makeshift shelf - the only thing in an otherwise empty classroom |
The damage from World Vision, however, stuck around. My
librarian looked at the pile, looked at me, and smiled. I got this feeling of
dread in my stomach. When she then asked, “So how long will it take you to sort
this?” I almost walked out. I insisted that we were partners, and we would sort
together. I quickly realized that most of the books were Swazi textbooks that
were outdated. I started sorting them. She, in a very patronizing and maternal
tone, told me that we were only sorting the story books today. I started at her
incredulously, and asked where they were. She said we’d have to find them but
not sort anything else. Again, I almost quit, but I decided to ignore her.
After all, I was busting my butt to get this going, while she watched me sort
and talked to her friends. When I went to the bathroom and to talk to some of
the other teachers as I took a break, I left the room. She got students to
remove the boxes of textbooks and threw all my piles that I had spent hours
making into the boxes. I came back to piles of the books that she wanted to
work with and nothing else. I was stomping mad. I gave in to the temptation and
walked out. Taking a back seat is a learned art, not an innate one in my case.
I was determined that day 2 was going to go better. I walked
in cheerful but prepared to be aggressive if need be. She had a pile of “story
books” and a pile of American textbooks that had been donated. I looked through
the story books and realized that they were a mix of fiction and non-fiction (The Diary of Anne Frank was in there).
When I mentioned this need to sort, she looked at me and asked: “What is the
difference between fiction and non-fiction? I thought there were only story
books and school books.” Americans, do not take your Western library education
for granted. This explanation had to be repeated over several days, but she
eventually understood. I alphabetized the fiction while she sorted the
textbooks by subject. By she sorted, I really mean she complained about how
heavy the books were and talked to her friends while I worked. At the end of
the day, she told me that a child must have alphabetized the books, because
every adult knows that you alphabetize by title and not by author. I didn’t
appreciate the insult, but I went home feeling a bit better.
Day 3 she stood me up. This would end up happening a lot.
It’s not considered as rude in this culture as it is in ours. She finally
answered her phone and told me to go on working. I chose not to. I went home,
and that evening decided that I was taking a back seat and she was going to
really work. See, Swazis define work as being in the room where work is done,
not actually doing the work. That needed to change in order for me to keep my sanity.
A few days passed. The next time we worked together, I
imitated her. If she sat down to chat, I sat down right beside her. If she went
out for a drink of water, I also stood outside. If she stared at the books and
said how heavy they were, I stared too and agreed with her. Absolutely no work
got done, and she got annoyed with me. I kept this up for the next few days,
and eventually she started taking the lead on the work. I cannot tell you how
good that felt.
We got the books sorted by fiction and non-fiction, and the
textbooks sorted by subject. We were working on creating a library inventory
over the course of several days, when we got a surprise. The library has a lot
of empty space, and this apparently screams “Use me for storage!” to the
teachers. We have 2 walls with shelves and 2 empty walls. For reasons I cannot
even begin to understand, they had decided to store a desk delivery in front of
the 2 walls with shelves, leaving the other two empty. This sure made it
difficult to work, but the kids were eventually allowed to assemble the desks.
Here, I felt something really special. These kids had been
learning on the floor and had no place for their textbooks. They wrote on their
laps. My school is one of the poorest in Swaziland. When 555 primary schools
were ranked based on the standardized test scores of the students, we ranked
502nd. It’s sobering to realize how lucky you are, as well as to see
the joy in the faces of students who have new desks for the first time. I went
home and cried.
Starting to get shelves |
Organization takes shape |
Organizing |
Our little fiction section |
The textbooks |
My librarian - and all the empty space |
Desks being assembled in the school courtyard! |
This was the mess last week. Books in all the emptiness? No. Books in front of other books. |
Most recently, we learned how to create an accession
register and to make labels for the spines of the books. That is what we are
working on now. We only have about 200 books. In May, we will receive 1,000
books from Books for Africa. That’s when the true test of dedication will come
for the librarian and for the school. Registering, cataloguing, and labeling
all those books is going to suck a lot, but the payoff will be worth it.
This is hard. It’s hard to get shelves, raise the funds for
a door lock and window locks and burglar bars. It’s hard to raise the 1500 rand
for transport of the books. It’s hard to train a librarian and students when
you are new to the work yourself. It’s hard to work at a slow pace and not
drive it forward. It’s hard to smile through the frustrations.
Those dreaded textbooks made a reappearance on Thursday.
Once again, they were pushed up against the bookshelves and not the empty wall.
Oh, the joys of working in Swaziland.
You know what the most ironic part of this whole thing is?
You have chosen to read this post, however many of you there are. When I
return, how many people will want to hear this story? How many times will I
want to tell it? In one year, when this library is functioning and my time here
is ending, how much will the struggle mean to me? I’d be willing to bet that
when someone asks me what I did with my Peace Corps service, I’ll answer: “I
started a library at a primary school. It was so heartwarming to see those
children lost in the joy of reading for the first time in their lives.” And
I’ll probably resent myself for it.
Even when everyone agrees that a change in needed, it is still the hardest work on earth. Moving folks from their well-entrenched comfort zones is like moving a mountain with a teaspoon. I believe the trick to it is to always keep in mind that it can be done...but only one teaspoonful at a time. Every book that goes on a shelf is a teaspoonful closer to moving the mountain...and when you've finally moved your mountain, your accomplishment will be enjoyed by many children for many years to come. It is a noble undertaking.
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