观点

刚果:一班76名学生

在刚果的布拉柴维尔,火药库小学的教师萨特宁·塞尔·恩戈马(Saturnin Serge Ngoma)每天都要在拥挤不堪的教室里给学生们上几何课和语法课。在这所一无所有的学校里教书,仿佛一次永无止境的攀登。

劳德·马夏尔·姆邦(刚果记者)

进入6月初,随着假期的开始,火药库小学尘土飞扬的院子里不再传来孩 子们的叫喊声。布拉柴维尔马亚—马亚机场传出的飞机发动机的阵阵轰鸣声,偶尔会打破夏日宁静的午后。飞机跑道和学校之间只隔着一条简陋的公路和几座房子。

就在几周前,76名学生(27名男生和49名女生)每天早上7点都会拥进萨特宁·塞尔·恩戈马负责的小学教室,这是他们在小学阶段的倒数第二年(CM1)。身高将近六英尺的恩戈马坐在芒果树下笑着说:“算上我家里的 6 个孩子,我今年要照顾 82 个孩子,真够累人的!”

在独立前,这一带曾经设有火药库,小学也就因此得名。2017年,恩 戈马应聘为公办教师,火药库小学的教职是他的第一份工作。恩戈马指着校舍说:“你大概会说,我中奖了。”学校里只有两间临时棚屋,分成了六间教室, 校园四周遍布茂盛的荒草和菜园。

一到下雨天,院子里的土地就会变成黏糊糊的泥浆。学校没有围墙, 教师们一年到头开着门上课,还会有过路人不时张望——人们为了抄近道, 会从学校的院子里穿过去。

权宜之计

这所学校什么都缺,没有围墙, 也没有厕所。刚开学时课桌不足,恩戈马的学生们不得不挤在一起,四个人围坐在一张桌子旁上课。其他人干脆坐在地板上。在如此匮乏的情况下, “将就一下”成为每日常态,教师叹了说道:“学生们四处找来小木板, 凑合着用。真是不容易啊!”

学校能够提供的课本少得可怜, 孩子们在做练习或是读课文时只好三四个人结成一组。由于许多学生原本存在学习困难,情况因此变得更加严重。学习法语尤其困难。“在做阅读练习时,我必须时刻密切关注,有些学生没有完全读懂课文,他们背的课文不是书上写的,是自己编出来的。”

面对这么多学生,要维持纪律也并非易事。为了不让学生占上风,恩戈马有自己的特殊方法。首先,他会让最不安分的学生到黑板前面来。“孩子们不愿当着其他学生的面做不出练 习,他们会小心翼翼地避免惹上麻烦。 要是孩子们不守纪律,我也会惩罚他 们——背诵动词变位,在极个别的情况下我会让他们到外面去扫院子。”

尽管条件艰苦,但恩戈马班上有62名学生在学期末成功升入了高年级。其中一名学生的总平均分达到了12.5分,是全校最高分,恩戈马感到非常骄傲。

这位现年40岁的教师拥有可持续发展经济学硕士学位,曾经担任保安, 并曾在私立机构授课,他在小学的执教时间并不长。但无论是艰苦的日常 工作还是微薄的薪水都无法让他改变职业。 从9月起,恩戈马又将沿着同一条路,每天步行半小时从他家所在的拉弗隆捷区到火药库小学上班。他以前的学生奎洛(Guelor)说道:“恩戈马先生总是告诉我们,据他所知,成功人士大多都是上过学的。”

Laudes Martial Mbon

Congolese journalist

In the dusty courtyard of La Poudrière primary school, the cries of the children have been temporarily silenced since the beginning of June, with the start of the holidays. Only the roar of airplane engines at Brazzaville's Maya-Maya Airport – whose runway is separated from the school by a simple paved road and a few houses – occasionally disrupts the tranquility of this hot summer afternoon.

Just a few weeks ago, seventy-six students, twenty-seven boys and forty-nine girls, crowded every morning at 7 a.m. into the first-year elementary school class (CM1) – the penultimate level of the primary cycle – taught by Saturnin Serge Ngoma. “If I add the six children I have at home, I took care of eighty-two children this year. Exhausting!” smiles this almost six-foot-tall giant, sitting at the foot of a mango tree.

The primary school – named after this neighbourhood where a powder magazine [gunpowder store] was located before independence – was Ngoma’s very first post after he was recruited by the state in 2017. “You could say that I was spoiled,” he says, pointing to the school premises – two makeshift shacks that house six classrooms, surrounded by tall grass and vegetable gardens.

On rainy days, the clay courtyard turns into sticky mud. The school is not enclosed. During the year, teachers give their classes with the doors open, under the gaze of passers-by who cross the courtyard to walk from one part of the neighbourhood to another.

The reign of making do

Everything is lacking in this school, which has no fences and no latrines. Before more tables were found at the start of the school year, Ngoma’s students were packed in, four to a desk. The others sat on the floor. Faced with such deprivation, making do was the order of the day. “The students collected small planks here and there, on which they settled. It was really not an easy situation,” the teacher sighed.

The children also have to share the few textbooks available at the school, getting together in groups of three or four to do exercises, or during reading time. The situation is all the more critical because many students are experiencing learning difficulties. Learning French is particularly hard for them. “I have to pay close attention during the reading exercises because some students don’t have a good grasp of the language and so they recite something other than the text – they make it up.”

Nor is it easy to enforce discipline among such a large number of pupils. Ngoma has his own special methods to avoid being overwhelmed. The first is to send his most restless students to the blackboard. “They’re afraid they won’t know how to do an exercise in front of the others, so they make sure they don't get themselves into that situation. If they don’t behave, I also give them punishments – verbs to conjugate, and in the most extreme cases, I send them outside to clean the yard.”

In spite of these precarious conditions, sixty-two students from Ngoma’s class successfully moved up to the next grade at the end of the school year. He takes pride in the fact that one of his students topped the whole school, with a 12.5 overall average.

A graduate with a master's degree in sustainable development economics, this 40-year-old teacher came to teaching late – after working as a security guard and giving courses in private institutions. Yet, in spite of his demanding daily routine and a paltry salary, he has no intention of changing professions.

In September, he will take the same road he walks every day for half an hour to get from his district of La Frontière to La Poudrière. “Mr Ngoma always tells us that he doesn't know many people who have succeeded without going to school,” Guelor, one of his former students, sums up.

Teachers: Changing lives
October-December 2019
UNESCO
0000370977
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