5. Birthday Bonanza

After a hungover birthday last year, 31 January 2012 was a slightly more sedate affair. As you might expect in a country where alcohol is banned. I say ‘slightly’, because the morning was just a wee bit hectic. For a start, my standard 6am alarm did not go off. Nor did the back-up at 6.10am. Nor did the absolute last resort at 6.20am – which is when I normally get up, have a quick shower, dress for the day and take a leisurely stroll to school for the quarter to seven start.

 Instead, my glorious birthday lie-in was rudely interrupted at 6.35am, with a loud knock on my door. I turned over, glanced at my watch, and almost jumped through the mosquito net. “Is school over did I miss it what time is it?” were the garbled questions I shouted, throwing open the door to Mrs Z’s daughter, who was ready for the day in her spotless white Ihavandhoo Madrasa uniform, carrying her schoolbooks, ready to start walking. By contrast, I sported a smelly football top, one sock, and my only pair of smart trousers, hurriedly pulled on for common modesty. My ‘alternative’ outfit and wild bed-hair questions shocked her a little, and I don’t think she understood my panicked queries. I slammed the door, and went big on condensed preparation, even ignoring the latest victim to foolishly enter my Den of Cockroach Death. Be assured he has since been dispatched to Cockroach Heaven. (Stoke on Trent).

Five minutes later I emerged, not quite a new man, wearing Monday’s un-ironed clothes, lacking a belt, with one trouser leg tucked into the sock - just to complete the “overslept” theme with a nice accessible cliche. “Late late,” parroted several groups of kids as I hurried past them, following up with the more usual greeting: “Arrrry Potter”. And, for one day only, an afterthought: “Happy Birthday”. 

I panicked when I thought my shirt was inside-out. There’s just no return from such ignominy on this kilometre-squared patch of sand. I’d have to leave Ihavandhoo forever, start a new life in Gan Atoll, and hope the gossip doesn’t follow me. Fortunately my concern was groundless – or possibly part of a dream interrupted just six minutes earlier – and I arrived in the school office ready to sign in at 6.45 on the dot. One minute later could have lost me half a day’s wages.

 

But survived the day, and even got a present from my Grade 8 star pupil, Sana. He’s a very bright kid, who was studying at a madrasa in Male’ for the past five years, passed his exams, and is now back on his home island getting a bit frustrated by classes that he completed several years ago. His English is excellent, he’s fluent in Arabic, and he dreams of becoming either an imam or an international footballer. Standard combination! He’s invited me to take a Saturday fishing trip with his father and cousins, which I hope can be arranged sometime soon. From his family I received a pack of notebooks, a hamper of fresh vegetables, and even a bar of British chocolate – an incredibly generous gesture, because the average temperature means that imported chocolates – Galaxy, Cadbury, Snickers, etc. – have to be kept in a fridge from source, and they cost an absolute bomb. Standard confectionary has a slightly different recipe, so it doesn’t melt so easily, but carries a taste and texture you can also experience from an advent calendar.

Last week was lots of fun! Everything fell into place very nicely, meaning nine days between 20-28^th January ran as follows: weekend, weekend, work, work, holiday, work, P.D. day, weekend, weekend. The holiday was National Day, commemorating the defeat of Portuguese colonists hundreds of years ago, and celebrated with an exorbitant number of bunting and flags. We had to get up at 5.30am, and gathered at the Ihavandhoo Council offices for a flag-raising ceremony at dawn, before patiently waiting as local bigwigs struggled to get the national anthem booming across the island. It’s a very nice, melodic tune – far better than the British funeral dirge – but it goes on forever, and reminds me of a theme tune to a childrens’ TV programme, so it’s a bit disconcerting to see hand-on-heart patriotism.

After the two-minute ceremony and ten-minute anthem… gallons of chocolate milkshake cartons were distributed! Of course it was. Naturally. Free chocolate milkshake for all, recalling the victory celebrations of Mohamed Thakurufaanu when he vanquished Cristiano Ronaldo and Raul Meireles all those years ago! (Also we were given artificial-strawberry wafer biscuits. A national homage to E-numbers?) From then it was a standard day-off for Maldivians – have a nap, sit in a jolli, play some volley. I went home and slept until 11am, and enjoyed doing nothing more than read some rubbish detective novel in the sun! (I found some tatty English books in the school library - Ian Rankin, Stieg Larsson, and Bill Clinton's autobiography).

Thursday 26^th was PD Day 1. There are two more in the year. They are very, very long. I was asked to present for 90 minutes on phonemes and pronunciation at 5pm, and spent most of the day wondering how to bulk out a pitiful slideshow to last that long. Especially after my USB stick reformatted itself the day before, and I was left with the skeleton of a presentation. But with the judicious application of humour, waffle, and activity sheets, myself and Sobah kept some tired teachers occupied for one hour, which I am counting as a qualified success. However, if I am asked to present at the next PD Day it will have been too successful. I’m hoping I struck the right balance between fulfilling the remit, but not being forever revered as an enlightened teaching guru.  

School days are disappearing quite quickly now. In fact, I’ve been in the Maldives for 35 days, which is over 10% of the total contract already completed! Weird! I’m now teaching an average of three hours a day, between 7am and midday, although there are rumours that school might reduce my teaching hours and ask me to focus on giving top-notch lessons to just a few higher grade classes. I’m hoping this is true, as it essentially means losing both Grade 8 classes, and gaining just one Grade 10 set. The payoff is concentrating my extra time and attention on Grade 10, and preparing a variety of extra-curricular sessions, but I think I’d really enjoy that extra involvement with them, as I’ve spoken with several and they’re all really nice, intelligent kids. The top set have their GCSEs coming up in October, and are apparently a bit of a flagship group, so the school has high hopes of a 100% pass rate. I’ll take custody of that pressure when the next version of the timetable has been written - set to be the fourth revision since term started on 8^th January. Eventually a happy conclusion will be reached where teachers don’t get double-booked, but it’s trial and error to reach those halcyon days. (Incidentally, it’s not confirmed that I’m teaching Grade 10. Just that I’ll ‘probably’ be assigned them from next week, and I’ll find out for sure when I get the new timetable on Saturday – to start teaching on Sunday).

Incidentally, a few nights ago I dreamt that it was my wedding day. It was a very vivid dream, and I remember feeling quite panicked that I hadn’t organised a venue or invited any guests - even though the ceremony was due to start within a few hours. I realise that if I ever have this dream again and the scenario no longer panics me (or my subconscious) I will have adopted a truly Maldivian mindset. (This is also a message to the future - don't give me the responsibility dear).

For now, though, it’s back to the very exciting present and fast forward through the next few weeks in February. There’s a planned weekend excursion to a resort in three weeks, courtesy of Mr Chris and Mr Chris on Dhidhoo, and then the March half-term is on us in no time. (Six weeks from now to be exact). I’m hoping to save my pennies and take a whirlwind trip to Sri Lanka. Flights are £110 return, so I’ll be off in pursuit of elephants, tigers, and a beer with the touring England cricket team! Fingers crossed that I can at least escape lesson plans for that one week.

Peace.