Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Nigeria Journal: Egg Drop and Flash Flood

 Realizing that I only had about four more days of actually seeing the children on a day-to-basis until their graduation day on July 25th, I decided to bring out the “secret-weapon” lesson plan: The EGG DROP. As I’ve written about before on this blog, part of my role in teaching here at Pater Noster Academy is to provide the educators with ideas for project-based, creative lessons. And none can be as creative or fun as the Egg Drop. Essentially, the education aspect of the lesson is tied up in explaining speed, impact, distance, and the forces of gravity. But to be honest, it’s essentially an excuse to throw eggs off of a two-story balcony. And what kid doesn’t want to do that!?

I began the lesson by gathering three of the elementary school classes into one room. I figured that it would be smart of me to make this a school-wide event. You know, to build up the “hype” of the moment. We all met in the school dinning room. I then handed out materials I had been collecting/pulled from the trash. I had a plethora of water bottles, toilet paper rolls (not that I’ve been actually using them…god forbid…), note books, and plastic bags. Each class was then instructed to work as a team to come up with a design that they felt would protect the egg from its two-story fall. They had to figure out ways to manipulate the speed and impact dispersal as it hit the ground, with the intent that in so doing their egg would survive intact.

The team work aspect of the lesson did not go very well. All of the students essentially fought amongst themselves for the materials. Whenever I laid out bottles for each team, students would immediately grab their own bottle and refuse to the let the other team members hold it. I kept repeatedly informing the students that they were working as a team and that no items were the ownership of one individual, but the group. It was very difficult to get this concept across. It also didn’t help the fact that I had only two scissors and one roll of tape between 25 kids. You could imagine the amount of hands that were being thrust into my face. Their pleading eyes and constant complaints were getting a little on my nerves. Nevertheless, each team made it through. Their designs were all very well-constructed and thought out. I was duly impressed and quite surprised, considering the chaos that reigned for the first 15 minutes of the lesson, as the classes learned what team work meant.

Announcing that it was now time to throw the eggs off of the balcony, the students literally got so excited that they were shaking in their seats (just the slightest change in routine, by the way, can turn a day at school into one the kids will never forget). I picked the best-behaved students to do the honors of dropping the egg. But before that, each team had to explain to me why they felt their design would succeed. Then it was time. I instructed all students to go to the front of the school and wait for further directions. The chosen three who were to drop their contraptions followed me. We got to the railing. I gave a speech above their heads like I was some emperor or something. The first one dropped. It hit the ground too hard. I suspected that their design had failed. The children in the crowd were restless and screaming. Dr. Korieh was holding them back. The second dropped, it landed softer and looked as though the egg might have survived. We were unsure. The children pushed through Dr. Korieh’s arms and ran towards the eggs lying on the ground. They couldn’t see inside the bottles due to the tape and paper. They went back. The final one dropped. It hit the ground lightly. The egg was safe. I could see it fully intact. The plastic bag parachute caught enough air to slow its descent, and the box that the egg was perched in did its job in dispersing the force of impact. I knew they had won. But I built it up anyway. Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, it was essentially pandemonium outside. They were running everywhere. Teachers were outside laughing and enjoying the scene. And I was announcing the winner. When I told the 3rd graders that they had won, they burst into shouts of joy so loud that I’m sure people a mile away heard them. They took their egg and literally marched it around the school chanting, “We won! We won! Our egg is OK!” I couldn’t believe it. For the other teams, a few of them cried. Again, I couldn’t believe that either.

All in all, it was a success—a day they surely will remember!

All day I was exhausted and hungry. So at 3:00pm when Dr. Korieh came into my room and asked if I’d like to get some food, I jumped immediately at his offer. And we left and drove to the middle of Owerri, where we stopped to visit a friend in the hospital. I noticed some gray clouds on the horizon but didn’t think much of it. After all, I am in Nigeria during the rainy season. It ALWAYS looks like it’s going to downpour. I feel asleep in the car while waiting in the hospital parking lot. I was awakened from my mid-day nap by a few drops of water hitting my leg. I shut the car door and then proceeded to fall back into dreaming bliss. And then the rain grew a little steadier. It began to smack off the hood of the car rather loudly and began to wash down the windshield in rivulets. I still tried to sleep. And the in one instance it began to down pour. And when I mean downpour, I mean monsoon-like. People were running everywhere. The roads became instantly jammed with water. The open faced sewers along the roads filled up in about two seconds flat and began spilling their contents onto the street. A torrent began to rip up the road in front of the hospital. Dr. Korieh ran out of the building, jumped in the car, and we started to make our way down the unpaved road. We got about five feet (literally) from the hospital when ahead of us was a huge rush of water carrying sticks and debris directly at our car. Dr. Korieh looked at me and said, “Wow. This is not good.” And that was that. The roiling current of brown, sludgy water hit our car with a force. The engine almost gave out. I heard the wheels grinding into the road as we attempted to gain more traction. At about this moment, I realized that we were literally stuck in a flash flood. Up ahead, the road curved around a building and all I could make out was rushing water. It was literally white water. We couldn’t go any further. Luckily, we cut a sharp right and drove up onto a raised parking lot platform and ran to shelter. And from there we watched the water roil and boil down the road, picking up bottles, cans, branches, and then, almost unbelievably, cars. It kept raining. Lighting was striking all around. And yet the deluge continued, unabated, for almost an hour. There was nothing we could do. It was dangerous to walk in the road, because the crush of water covered the gutters, so if you stepped out onto what you thought was solid ground, and it was really a sewer, you would have literally fallen into a raging rapid of a river. You would be a goner. No doubt. After about sixty minutes, the rain began to subside and we saw women walking against the current carrying all of their wares on their head. I couldn’t believe it. They were fighting against the force of mother nature as if it wasn’t a problem. A few of them fell. When they did, gasps from houses balconies and shops went up. “She is crazy! Does she not realize she can drown!?” they would exclaim in disbelief. I didn’t even want to imagine what they’d be stepping one: old trash, animal refuse, nails, glass, you know,  a festering GUTTER!? But they didn’t seem to mind.


But life goes on here. People wait. They smile. And then continue on with minimal complaining. Oh, Nigeria

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