Every Wednesday, my team and I go to a primary school for children who could not afford school otherwise. The children are in grades one through seven. Most days, the school provides a meal for the kids. I say most days because sometimes the food runs out and the school has no money to buy more. For some children at this school, this is their only meal of the day. Most children wear clothes that are visibly worn or torn.
The classes don’t have many books or school supplies. The only teaching supplies the staff have are a box of chalk to share among them, an eraser per classroom, and a few sheets of large white paper they use to make their own instructional diagrams and charts for the classroom.
The school was established and is administratively overseen by a church here in Lusaka of which our ministry host is the bishop. The teachers’ salaries are paid through a sponsorship program with teachers in the U.S. The teachers here understand the limitation of their circumstances. They feel the frustrations from those limitations yet they seem impervious to the trials when with their classes. They are caring, kind, and generous with their students. Neither are the students defeated by their circumstances. They are polite, respectful, joyous, and hopeful.
Despite, the glaring differences from my primary school education, there is a lot of familiarity. During recess we played Red Rover. We taught them Simon Says and Duck, Duck, Goose. They have favorite subjects. They have dreaded subjects. They have dreams for when they grow up. They’re curious about foreigners. The younger kids watch the older ones and imitate them trying to be older than they are. Their smiles and laughter are infectious.
We never seemed to have enough time to spend at the school yet after teaching Bible lessons, singing songs, and playing games, we were always exhausted when we got into the car to drive home.
I wondered if what we were doing really mattered, if they would remember anything we tried to teach them. But each week when we returned, the teachers would tell us that they had been talking about last week’s lesson all week and counting down until the next Wednesday when we would return. It was so encouraging to know that although they looked forward to seeing us because we were different and they got out of class to play games, they remembered the lessons too.
We have no idea what their home life is like, who their friends are, what pressures they’re under, or what beliefs they’re being taught outside of Good Samaritan School. It’s great to know that even a piece of encouragement and truth made it from our short time with them to their friends and family and maybe they’ll even hold on to it long enough to take root and grow into something great.
