Today was one of those days...
Today is one of those days…one of those days when nothing seems to go right, everything’s a mess, and one frustration continuously compounds another. I know this is partially my fault, because one incident put me in a bad mood I find all instances that follow to irritate me to a degree that they would perhaps otherwise not. The following is my day thus far:
Story 1
Yesterday I discovered that the money I had fundraised for shelves for the library was “missing.” There is a very obvious and easy explanation for this: the school had some bill they couldn’t pay, but instead of problem solving in order to come up with a legitimate way to pay the owed money they used the funds I had raised. When I found this out I was not happy; the word furious does not even begin to cover it in fact, but I was left to fume as the principal was not at the school for me to confront him.
Thus, the day did not start off well. It began with a confrontation, something I notice that the villagers I live with and around will do anything to avoid, even if it means telling lies. The principal, when confronted, became very angry, but not at me, instead at the treasurer who he said was supposed to keep that information from me and had no right to disclose that information. This new information, the fact of the whole situation was purposely being hidden, goaded me against him. Our spat went something like this:
“The treasurer needs to report information like that to me. He can not just tell people about money matters. I do not find his behavior acceptable,” my principal said obviously attempting to diffuse the attention away from himself.
“But this is a school. People should know what their money is being used for. Money matters can’t be kept secret in this environment,” I vehemently spat back.
“We were going to reimburse the money. It was not going to be a problem.”
“When? When were you going to reimburse the money? What if I had come and told you I found a sale on shelves? What were you going to do then?”
“It is not okay that they told you about the money.”
“The parents knew we were fundraising for shelves. THAT was what they spent their money on. You could be sued if they found out you didn’t use the money for what they were told it was being spent on.”
My impassioned irritation went on against his avoidance and the circularity continued. At some point I gave up and sat at the computer and played FreeCell as my strike against doing work especially when the work I had been doing was obviously not effective.
At some point later in the day, after I heard much arguing from a conjoining room, the money appeared. I’m not exactly sure where it came from as it definitely wasn’t the same money I had collected nor do I really want to ask because I’m sure it was money raised for some other purpose but used now to appease “the crazy American.”
Story 2
I went to Nelson Mandela Barloworld High School to pick up an application for Lucky, a bright student who I want to make sure goes to a decent high school next year. The principal of the school was not there so I was left with the receptionist who doesn’t really know me. When I explained to her what I wanted she said I needed to write an application letter. I was confused since I had interpreted that he would need to fill out a form. Thus I asked what the letter was supposed to contain. She looked at me like I was an idiot and then told me it needed the name of the student and the grade. I asked her what else. She gave me another look that said “why are you so dumb,” and said that was all. I didn’t understand how that could be all. She handed me a piece of paper which I took notes on what I thought the letter was supposed to include. I got another “dumb look” and she said I was supposed to write the letter on the paper. In the end I left confused and frustrated.
When I got back in the car where the principal of Matshwi was waiting I told him what had happened. He explained that I needed to write an “application letter” to apply to get an application form. He also said that it was a shame the principal wasn’t there because she would have just given me the form since we had been regularly discussing Lucky’s situation. In the end, it means I will have to take at least two other trips out there which is very inconvenient for all involved and didn’t improve my mood.
Story 3
I got back to Matshwi after the last experience and stopped by the library room to check in since it was open and unlocked. I immediately noticed that the teachers had moved the fridge and other staff room appliances into it. When I asked the teacher sitting there about it he basically ignored me. I then noticed that some of the posters I had put up in the room were missing. I asked him about that, and he said some of the teachers had taken them to put in their classrooms. I explained, patiently, that the posters were for the library and that they needed to be put back. He then proceeded to tell me that this room wasn’t going to be the library since it was the computer room. I replied that it was, that the principal had approved it, and that they didn’t need a computer room as the school had no computers.
“But what if we get computers?”
“Then we will move the library then, but if you get computers you most likely will only get a few and they can be put in the library too.”
“But what if someone donates a lot?”
“I don’t know of anyone who is going to donate to you 40 computers, and I don’t know of any teacher applying to get computers currently.”
This proceeded as he then went on to ask what we were doing about shelves. I told him I was attempting to get them donated and we were also raising money. He then told me we needed steel shelves. I told him we most likely could not afford steel shelves. He told me the government was going to give the school money in September. My response, “the school has a lot of things they need to buy we can’t use al l the money on shelves.” His response, “while we only need one big shelf there aren’t very many books” (he obviously hasn’t looked recently because we have about a thousand books now), and I explained we would be receiving more.
Then I left because, frankly, I was sick of talking to him.
Story 4
I walked back to the office. About five minutes later the same teacher came to see me:
“Makobo are you busy?”
“What do you want help with.”
“I need you to type me this letter,” he said handing his teacher’s manual that had an address in it where you could write for to receive current statistics in the country.
“I will not type the letter for you. You can write the letter out and then I will show you how to use the computer to type it.”
“But I need it right away.”
“It won’t take long to type. It will be a short letter and I will show you how.”
“When?”
“Anytime you want. I will be here the rest of today and tomorrow. You could come after school.”
“But that is only half an hour.”
“You could stay longer,” I replied annoyed now by the expectation of me doing his work for him and his incredulity that he would have to do it himself.
“No I can’t do that. They can’t make us stay so late. You must do it for me.”
I ignored him on this comment and thought that maybe he should have been doing work instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs in the now library/staff room and then I got angry with him.
“What will you do when I’m not here or if I’m at Letseku? Who will do it for you then? It isn’t my job to do your work for you. It’s my job to show you how to do it on your own. I will help you for as long as you want, whenever you want, but I will not do it for you. Plus, you sat and told me about the school needing computers but why does the school need computers? If you don’t know how to use a computer then how will you teach the children?
He replied (mainly as a means to escape my diatribe I believe), “Maybe I will come during a free period tomorrow and you can help me.”
Eish!!! What a day.
Story 1
Yesterday I discovered that the money I had fundraised for shelves for the library was “missing.” There is a very obvious and easy explanation for this: the school had some bill they couldn’t pay, but instead of problem solving in order to come up with a legitimate way to pay the owed money they used the funds I had raised. When I found this out I was not happy; the word furious does not even begin to cover it in fact, but I was left to fume as the principal was not at the school for me to confront him.
Thus, the day did not start off well. It began with a confrontation, something I notice that the villagers I live with and around will do anything to avoid, even if it means telling lies. The principal, when confronted, became very angry, but not at me, instead at the treasurer who he said was supposed to keep that information from me and had no right to disclose that information. This new information, the fact of the whole situation was purposely being hidden, goaded me against him. Our spat went something like this:
“The treasurer needs to report information like that to me. He can not just tell people about money matters. I do not find his behavior acceptable,” my principal said obviously attempting to diffuse the attention away from himself.
“But this is a school. People should know what their money is being used for. Money matters can’t be kept secret in this environment,” I vehemently spat back.
“We were going to reimburse the money. It was not going to be a problem.”
“When? When were you going to reimburse the money? What if I had come and told you I found a sale on shelves? What were you going to do then?”
“It is not okay that they told you about the money.”
“The parents knew we were fundraising for shelves. THAT was what they spent their money on. You could be sued if they found out you didn’t use the money for what they were told it was being spent on.”
My impassioned irritation went on against his avoidance and the circularity continued. At some point I gave up and sat at the computer and played FreeCell as my strike against doing work especially when the work I had been doing was obviously not effective.
At some point later in the day, after I heard much arguing from a conjoining room, the money appeared. I’m not exactly sure where it came from as it definitely wasn’t the same money I had collected nor do I really want to ask because I’m sure it was money raised for some other purpose but used now to appease “the crazy American.”
Story 2
I went to Nelson Mandela Barloworld High School to pick up an application for Lucky, a bright student who I want to make sure goes to a decent high school next year. The principal of the school was not there so I was left with the receptionist who doesn’t really know me. When I explained to her what I wanted she said I needed to write an application letter. I was confused since I had interpreted that he would need to fill out a form. Thus I asked what the letter was supposed to contain. She looked at me like I was an idiot and then told me it needed the name of the student and the grade. I asked her what else. She gave me another look that said “why are you so dumb,” and said that was all. I didn’t understand how that could be all. She handed me a piece of paper which I took notes on what I thought the letter was supposed to include. I got another “dumb look” and she said I was supposed to write the letter on the paper. In the end I left confused and frustrated.
When I got back in the car where the principal of Matshwi was waiting I told him what had happened. He explained that I needed to write an “application letter” to apply to get an application form. He also said that it was a shame the principal wasn’t there because she would have just given me the form since we had been regularly discussing Lucky’s situation. In the end, it means I will have to take at least two other trips out there which is very inconvenient for all involved and didn’t improve my mood.
Story 3
I got back to Matshwi after the last experience and stopped by the library room to check in since it was open and unlocked. I immediately noticed that the teachers had moved the fridge and other staff room appliances into it. When I asked the teacher sitting there about it he basically ignored me. I then noticed that some of the posters I had put up in the room were missing. I asked him about that, and he said some of the teachers had taken them to put in their classrooms. I explained, patiently, that the posters were for the library and that they needed to be put back. He then proceeded to tell me that this room wasn’t going to be the library since it was the computer room. I replied that it was, that the principal had approved it, and that they didn’t need a computer room as the school had no computers.
“But what if we get computers?”
“Then we will move the library then, but if you get computers you most likely will only get a few and they can be put in the library too.”
“But what if someone donates a lot?”
“I don’t know of anyone who is going to donate to you 40 computers, and I don’t know of any teacher applying to get computers currently.”
This proceeded as he then went on to ask what we were doing about shelves. I told him I was attempting to get them donated and we were also raising money. He then told me we needed steel shelves. I told him we most likely could not afford steel shelves. He told me the government was going to give the school money in September. My response, “the school has a lot of things they need to buy we can’t use al l the money on shelves.” His response, “while we only need one big shelf there aren’t very many books” (he obviously hasn’t looked recently because we have about a thousand books now), and I explained we would be receiving more.
Then I left because, frankly, I was sick of talking to him.
Story 4
I walked back to the office. About five minutes later the same teacher came to see me:
“Makobo are you busy?”
“What do you want help with.”
“I need you to type me this letter,” he said handing his teacher’s manual that had an address in it where you could write for to receive current statistics in the country.
“I will not type the letter for you. You can write the letter out and then I will show you how to use the computer to type it.”
“But I need it right away.”
“It won’t take long to type. It will be a short letter and I will show you how.”
“When?”
“Anytime you want. I will be here the rest of today and tomorrow. You could come after school.”
“But that is only half an hour.”
“You could stay longer,” I replied annoyed now by the expectation of me doing his work for him and his incredulity that he would have to do it himself.
“No I can’t do that. They can’t make us stay so late. You must do it for me.”
I ignored him on this comment and thought that maybe he should have been doing work instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs in the now library/staff room and then I got angry with him.
“What will you do when I’m not here or if I’m at Letseku? Who will do it for you then? It isn’t my job to do your work for you. It’s my job to show you how to do it on your own. I will help you for as long as you want, whenever you want, but I will not do it for you. Plus, you sat and told me about the school needing computers but why does the school need computers? If you don’t know how to use a computer then how will you teach the children?
He replied (mainly as a means to escape my diatribe I believe), “Maybe I will come during a free period tomorrow and you can help me.”
Eish!!! What a day.
posted by Cait at 11:51 AM
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