Uhuru Peak Primary School

This post is out of order (as it happens over a month after my last post), but it is about my recent volunteering at a primary school in Arusha, Tanzania.
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Uhuru Peak Primary School


As I started my time volunteering in Arusha, I was skeptical of how much help I would end up being to my school placement. I’m not a teacher, and, apart from a few short-stay (day or two long) volunteer opportunities back home, I have never taught before. I’m also not the greatest with kids, yet kids always seem to get along with me incredibly well. They love me, despite my predispositions to try not to deal with children too much. Given what I feel are my negatives for attempting to assist a primary school, I do have a few things going for me.
First off, I am a native and fluent English speaker, which automatically puts me on top of any English program a Tanzanian school may offer. Much to my surprise, the vast majority (if not all) Tanzanian schools must teach in English (with Swahili combined until old enough to learn in English). This means that a vast knowledge of English is needed to properly teach the kids not only how to speak and write in English, but also how to learn in English. Being a native English speaker puts me at both an advantage and a disadvantage. I know the language, I know what sounds right and wrong, I know most grammatical rules, and I can certainly teach in English. However, how do I teach English? How can I explain to a native Swahili speaker why all vowels can have several sounds depending on how they are used, when in Swahili all vowels have one sound no matter what? I’m not an expert in teaching English, but damn it if I can’t try my hardest.
Second, kids seem really fond of me. Despite what I may think about myself and how I handle kids, I’ve been told that kids just have fun with me, that I’m good with kids (despite what I may think). This will allow me to at least hold onto their attention to try to learn what I teach them and to get them focused on their work. Remember, “try” is the important rule here. I am at a primary school after all, and kids will be kids, boys will be boys, and paying attention is not a child’s strong suit.
Third and finally is my passion and drive. I am a part of something much greater than myself, a part of something that can benefit the 140+ kids at Uhuru Peak Primary School, a part of bringing a stronger education to areas of the world that may never see what the west sees. I can teach them skills to excel later in life, I can assist where the need is great, and I can try my hardest to inspire learning in areas where it is both neglected and forgotten.
The rest is up to me. I will easily learn along the way, find out what is wrong and what is right about how to teach, and get a first hand, in depth opportunity to experience education in a developing country. How are the kids treated? What are the teaching styles like? Are students neglected? Are they getting a proper education? I hope to find all these answers and more during my stay in Arusha at the Uhuru Peak Primary School.

Let me describe a little bit about the school itself. First, the school is a low-income private school. All Tanzanian schools are private schools that run government education. The teachers get paid by the school, not the government, and there are different socio-economic levels of private school depending on what you can afford. When I first arrived, I made a mental note of the area in which the school was located. Situated 15-20 minutes outside of the Arusha city center, the school is nestled just off the main road that connects Moshi, Nairobi, and Arusha together. Just a few minute walk from the road, the school is built between banana farms on one side, and residential housing on the other. There is a strong difference in the building compared to those around it. On the main road lies a gas station and a few very small, very local bars. The residential housing buildings are a mix of simple concrete with tin roofs, to simple mud buildings with tin roofs, to somewhat proper, modern homes with tilled roofs, yards, and glass windows. Its an interesting mix for the area, and no distinct way to tell what socio-economic class the region would be placed into.
The school itself looks like a concrete shell painted over in an odd shade of yellow. Imagine a three story office building with no glass windows (just concrete frames and the occasional wooden shutters), no exterior plating or tiling, no proper roof (just a concrete slab) and some simple paintings and posters hung around the outside on the 1st floor. To the right of the building is either a completely dilapidated or under construction section of concrete stairs with missing floors and no roof, obviously not in use, with the exception of the 1st floor which is used for cooking meals for the kids.
Walking into the school gives a better look at the structure. The first floor is all administrative, though it only occupies half of the floor, as the rest of the half appear to be used for structural support. The main staff office is a single room with a storage closet for food, a table with a single chair, and a 2nd table that has stacks of notebooks and school books. There are posters all over the wall that details the school schedule and how well the students have placed on national exanimations in the past few terms.
There is a principal’s office, and easily the nicest room on the whole compound. Walking in there are shelves with books (though not too many), a proper desk and chair built like a traditional business desk, a single throw-rug, a nice window (one of the only glass windows in the whole school), and a door that properly closes and opens. I feel now is appropriate to mention that none of the class rooms have doors, which is a horrible travesty for a primary school as children can be loud and their voices can carry all the way down the halls.
The 2nd and 3rd floors are the class rooms. Each classroom has a wall-sized chalkboard with no ledge to hold chalk. This means that the teachers use the window ledges as make-shift cupboards for chalk and erasers. There are plenty of desks for all the students, but they are two seated desks, meaning it looks like a small bench with a desk space attached. These desks crowd the room as there are some 24+ students per class with not a single student getting his or her own personal space unless their desk partner is absent for the day.
Most classrooms have two doors, one at the back of the room and one of the front. At first I found this to be unnecessary until I realized there was actually a practical use for it: to get to the chalk board. Unless you are as small as the elementary school students at the school, you will not be able to squeeze through the desk space without ample effort, turning, and frustration. You can easily shave 15 seconds off of your travel time just by entering the hall and coming in the front door (if you had happened to be at the back of the class, where the teacher’s desk is placed).
The floors of every room in the building (aside from the principal’s office) are nothing more than the concrete slabs that lay out the building. They are cracked, dirty, and uneven, which can lead to trips and stumbles as ones foot can easily become snagged on a “pothole” in the floor. There are sections of the floor that clearly were meant for pipes at one point or another, and depending on the room you are in, they have not been properly plugged up. They are nowhere big enough to trip on, but standing over them you can easily see the head or two of a student directly below you. It seems impossible that students have not used this to their advantage in the past, dropping things on purpose between the holes.
The library is the grandest room on the whole compound. Situated on the 3rd floor, it serves as the staff’s break room, the lunch room, the grading room, the studying room, the assembly and gathering space, and a lookout onto the school grounds. I use the word “grandest” lightly, and given the condition of the rest of the compound, one can’t help but imagine this only has a bit of extra flare to it. The whole room is covered in a yellow paint the same shade as an off-ripe banana which likens it more to a manila-envelope, and the same shade of blue of the lightest sky one can see. The paintings on the walls are appropriately child-like: animals with human-like eyes, scenery depicting the few mountains which surround the area (Mt. Meru and Kilimanjaro being the only ones of conversation), and various scholarly symbols and pictures (as I recall, the use of angles in mathematics was drawn directly above the painting of Mt. Kilimanjaro).
The library has 3 large desks that can sit 8 or so people around them, but keeping in mind this is a primary school, they can fit 5-6 adults comfortably around the desks that have the proper seats around them. There are not enough desks to fill the room, and it seems empty, though this could also be for the fact that there are no books to speak of in the library. There are piles of student workbooks to be graded, teaching guides for each grade level, depending on the subject of the books, and a handful of empty notebooks. If one were to say this was a proper library, they clearly have no true understanding of the need of this school.


Getting to the school itself is a task on its own, and representative of how both the students and teachers travel to school. As I will explain later, teacher salaries are no where near sufficient enough for a teacher to own their own car (or to borrow their spouses, assuming their spouse works), and there are no where near enough school transportation vehicles. Like all the locals, students, and teachers, there are only two viable forms of transportation to the school. You either walk, or you take the local shared cab known as the Doladola (pronounced like the slang form of “Dollar”, such as “Dolla”, or in this case “Dolla Dolla”).
It is important to note that, while not called Doladolas everywhere in Africa, they are an incredibly common shared cab system I have seen in every African country visited thus far (with the exception of the sparsely populated Namibia).
Doladolas are mini-vans that look much like white vans and unmarked vans in thee states (you see them in movies all the time, the unmarked white vans). Inside the Doladolas is the drivers seat with passenger seat, and three rows of seats in the back. If you were to comfortably use all seats the way they were meant to be used, you could comfortably fit 13 individuals, including the driver, in the vehicle (remembering that the last row seats a very tight 4 people, and the remaining rows seat 3, including the drivers row). Much like bus-lines and metro-lines in western countries, there are colored stripes on these white vehicles which describe their intended arrival, though each Dola goes to more specific places, depending on the name pasted on the front bumper. Each Dola is personalized (which shows that they are individually operated). Taking hints from western culture, the top of the front windshield are usually individually named. I have seen names such as “Game Over”, “Cupcake”, “Adonai”, “Jesus Lives”, and “Nellyville” painted on the windshield. Many times there are random stickers and printouts posted throughout the Dola, usually having nothing to do with the name on the windshield. The name is simply used for more personalization.
Each doladola is operated by two individuals: A driver, and a passenger operator. The passenger operator (the name I have oh-so-cleverly given them) opens the sliding door to allow passengers in and off, and collects money. The driver drives the designated route and listens to the taps the passenger operator makes with his fists on the door frame. When in motion, two metal clangs means stop to pick up/let off passengers, while two taps on the metal frame tells the driver to begin moving again.
As Doladolas are shared cabs, they are incredibly cheap, costing anywhere between 200-500tsh, depending on where you are going (that’s less than 50 cents no matter how far you go, and as little as 15 cents!). Because of the low prices, the Dola operators cram as many people into one vehicle as humanly possible. The rows that once could only comfortably fit 3 people now fit 4 (and in many cases 5, with an option foldable seat), the front sits 4, and the ledge between the passenger area and the driver section (separated by metal bars) now acts as a bench. There are passengers that stand in every possible position to cram into the cab. At times the Doladolas become so full that the passenger operator leave the sliding door open as to hang onto to the cab from the outside to provide more room for extra passengers inside.
Most Dolas I have been in (especially during rush hour) house more than 20 people. On many occasions I count 24 people (keep in mind these are all adults) crammed into a vehicle that originally was only comfortable for 13.
Many schoolchildren use Dolas as their form of transportation to and from school, as do the teachers who can afford neither the cars nor the gasoline to run them. Outside of my home-stay in Arusha exists a big pick-up point for local school children who have been given money to get to school by their parents, though it appears that mostly secondary school children ride Dolas. Primary schools occasionally can afford the same sort vehicle that Dolas use, yet can only make a few trips, and thus students closer to school are either forced to walk or take the local Doladolas.
As a volunteer, I got a firsthand experience of Doladolas, and can attest to their usefulness for locals as an incredibly cheap form of transportation. While walking is the cheapest (though longest) way for school children to get to school (many of my students have to walk an hour to and from school), Dolas provide a great and cheap option for school children.
For a moment I must describe the teachers at the school. First of all, there are not enough teachers to cover all the classes properly. Some teachers have to give their class lessons to work on while the teacher goes off to grade work from other classes or provide other classes with more work to do. With volunteers in the mix, the teachers can rely on having an authority figure situated in the class room, and are thus more often to walk out of a class room the moment volunteers arrive to help.
The teachers are separated into two distinct groups, and it is evident which teachers fit in which group. The groups are simple: You either became a teacher because you truly wanted to teach, or you became a teacher because it was a paying job and a nicer and respectable alternative to other jobs in the area. Simply driving through Arusha, and Tanzania as a whole, one notices a surprising number of teacher colleges and teacher training schools. With all the possibility for paying jobs, I wondered immediately why there were not more teachers to fill the gaps where volunteers were needed. The answer, after having discussions with many teachers and individuals involved with education was simple: Teachers make a very low salary compared to the rest of the world.
I am unfortunately not privileged to the information from upper-class private schools in Tanzania, but what I can attest to is how little teachers make monthly. From conversations with teachers from my primary school volunteer placement to other low-income primary schools, the average salary for low-income schools hovers around 120,000 to 140,000 Tanzanian Shillings (Tsh, for short) a month. As of this writing the current USD to TSH exchange rate was 1400 Tsh to the US dollar. That means that the low-income private school teachers make less than $100 a month, or $1200 a year. The average elementary school teacher in the United States makes roughly $36,000 a year, and it is one of the professions with the lowest average salary.
Certainly school administrators make more than teachers, and thus there is room for movement amongst a teaching career. It is also important to note that the cost of living in Tanzania is dramatically less than the cost of living in the United States. For example, just over 1 million tsh can get you a car (about $1000 USD), housing costs drop dramatically the more rural you get, and local farmed goods are pennies. Even considering this, teachers can certainly struggle if they don’t have side jobs (a lot of teachers will try to pick up cash on the side).
Keeping this in mind, married women who teach, given that they have money coming in from their husbands as well, certainly show more of a drive to teach children than their male counterparts (excluding school administrators), due to extra funds being entered into the family.


Corporal Punishment is a norm in the schools, and the use of it is common not just in schools, but at the home as well. Children who are beaten at home for disobedience are a bit more obedient in the school setting, as they are taught to expect corporal punishment for misbehavior outside of the home as well.
On my way to Tanzania, I was aware that such punishment existed in schools, but I wasn’t sure to what extent. I expected to see teachers smacking heads of mischievous students or whipping the hands of students with rulers. I wasn’t too far off, but the extent to which it was used surprised me greatly.
To begin, all teachers I have met use corporal punishment in the school setting, and it is evident that some teachers use it more than others. In my experience, the male teachers are far more likely to use corporal punishment than their female counterparts, and it immediately appeared to be for the reason I have previously stated, which shows men more likely than not entered the profession for financial reasons more than scholarly reasons (though this is not always the case, and is only the result of my observations).
I have seen corporal punishment used for a number of reasons, from anything to misbehavior and class disruption to bad-handwriting and wrong answers (though, in my experiences, male teachers are more likely to use corporal punishment for the latter). In many classrooms there are sticks sitting in the corner, where in certain cases teachers will use them to whip students for bad behavior. Some teachers (and this must be true everywhere in Tanzania) will sit students down to go over their work, and when they come across a wrong answer, will pinch the student on his or her side, immediately getting the student to yell out “No, Teacher!”. It isn’t a lasting pain, but for the student, the teacher views it as a lasting memory to try harder in his or her work.
During several classes I have witnessed the teacher taking a student by his or her arm, twisting it around her head (as to stop the student from moving), and taking a stick to whip the student in the back a total of three times. Surprisingly, after witnessing all of the beatings, most students don’t cry or show emotion more than spouting out “Please, teacher!” or “No, teacher!”, though in instances of such harsh maneuvers, I have heard the wails of an unlucky 10 year old. It is truly a disgraceful teaching technique.
In many schools, speaking in Swahili (other than in designated “Swahili” lessons) is calls for punishment, and in many occasions, light corporal punishments, such as a smack on the head or a pinch on the body. As English is a part of the curriculum (and I will dive deep into the curriculum later), Swahili is frowned upon and thus punished.
It is unfortunate that teachers, whilst on their breaks, speak to each other in Swahili within earshot of students. This can never send a clear message to students who are both taught not to speak Swahili in school, yet hear their teachers disobeying their own orders. While I 100% disagree with the use of corporal punishment, such actions in front of students completely undermines why they use corporal punishment in the first place. How teachers can not see the fault of such teaching methods is beyond me.
Corporal Punishment is also a complete detriment to the volunteers who travel to Africa to help (and yes, corporal punishment appears to be the norm throughout most of Africa). I was not the first, and most certainly will not be the last, volunteer the Uhuru Peak primary school has seen. Coming from a western society with western values and a very western teaching ideology, seeing corporal punishment being used is a shock, and something I completely disagree with and would never, ever use. And herein lies the biggest problem with corporal punishment for volunteers: Tanzanian primary school students know that they will never be beaten by volunteers. The students thus have no reason to fully pay attention or adhere to the authority of the volunteers. Teaching a very stringent curriculum is hard enough without having to deal with students who only want to play and have fun once a volunteer has arrived.
In many cases a teacher will leave the classroom and I will be in charge of lessons, and immediately the students stop caring about their studies. No amount of yelling or the taking away of certain student privileges calms the students down or keeps them quiet. Only the return of their original teacher, and the threat of harsher, more physical punishment, do the students return to their quiet state. This is evident throughout most primary schools in Arusha, and can be assumed throughout Tanzania and most of Africa as well.
This is not to say volunteers are unsuccessful. Many times I can get the class to quiet down enough for the students who care to keep working, and more often than not I can get every student started on a lesson and positively affect a student’s learning for the day. However, corporal punishment is clearly a detriment to education and not an effective form of punishment in a school setting.

Like many private schools, Uhuru Peak provides its students with food. I unfortunately did not have the great pleasure of tasting foods at different schools, yet I am told that all schools try to stay uniform with local Tanzanian cuisine. My experiences showed me one thing about the food: They keep their students well fed!
It is something I least expected, especially coming from a school that has absolutely no funds to buy a single book for their library. The school administrators have the health and well-being of the student (and teacher) in mind when providing meals and snacks for the children as part of tuition.
Every morning before school, the teachers are provided tea, coffee, and a light pastry (usually a plain donut with no added frostings or creams). It is served in the only common room to which the teachers are guaranteed privacy from their students. This room is the Staff Room which houses a single desk and a single chair.
This is a great move by the school, as it is clear it helps boost the teacher’s energy as well as their happiness. I feel that such benefits to teachers at this school significantly lower the risk of corporal punishment being used, as teachers who are happier and more ready for the day are less likely to take out any ill-feelings on the student.
At 10:00am, the students in each classroom (and teachers) are provided a cup of crude porridge. My classroom faces the kitchen, which is just a small number of pots, pans, and fire pits located underneath a roof of the dilapidated building next floor. Due to lack of funds, the porridge is as simply as can be. It is incredibly grainy, awfully runny, and is, for a foreigner, very difficult to finish completely. The students and teachers down it in no time, while I struggle to drink half a glass! The taste is sweet at first, but then turns to grain and water, which doesn’t go down as smooth as the first few sips of the hot bubbling grain-soaked cup were able to.
At this time, the class goes on a 15 minute recess break, where the teachers converge to the library for a 2nd snack, which is a new pot of tea and extra pastries from the morning. There are purposely more than enough to allow teachers to have one in the early morning, and one in the late morning.
Lunch time for students includes basic meals to which no second helpings are allowed (though they are usually filling, especially for the stomachs of students). Lunches are usually a simple rice or corn dish (the corn dish is almost always Ugali, which is a bland, flavorless white mash), a sauce with some other vegetable, and once to twice a week, a light meat dish (two small chunks of beef seems to be the go-to meat dish).
It is hard to compare the lunches received by these primary school kids to those received by elementary school kids in the United States and elsewhere in the world. We have the funds, the resources, and the variety to give our students what they want and what they need. On the Tanzanian aspect, they have the ability to give their students what they need, not what they want. I do not see this as a complete negative, as the meals seem very low in refined carbohydrates and sugars, which leaves the meals astonishingly healthy and surprisingly filing.
The food is certainly an aspect to which the schools do well.
The school curriculum follows the same curriculum designated by the Tanzanian government. Many of the school books either state that they follow a government curriculum or are nearly word for word of their competing publishers. No matter what socio-economic private school you attend in Tanzania, you will follow, at the bare minimum the bare-boned version of, the government’s curriculum for students. At the end of each term there are examinations given to every student of that year country-wide that shows how students are progressing and how effective the government curriculum is. Thus, most, if not all schools follow the government curriculum to receive the best scores possible.
There are a number of subjects learned throughout the school day. For 1st through 3rd year, school goes only as late as 1pm (with lunch included), while 4th-6th year go closer towards 4pm. The 1st-3rd years learn English, Math, Grammar, Science, Handwriting, Spelling, Vocational Skills and Artistic Skills, Swahili grammar (basic), and do sports. These classes are spread throughout the week, with English, Math, and Science repeating almost every day. Handwriting and spelling follow the curriculum designed by the individual school, though the better they design these curricula, the higher students scores will be.
As my school is a low-income school (even medium income schools experience this problem) there are a lack of school books. There is one science book for my whole class, as there is only one math book, yet there are enough English books for every 2 students to have one to share. This situation is similar in nearly every grade level. In most private schools, as I’ve mentioned, it is frowned upon and even disciplined on if students speak in Swahili (unless it’s a designated Swahili lesson). Thus, every single class is taught in English. The value placed on English is seen throughout the continent.
Upon my discussion with various volunteers, teachers, and individuals living in the East African Community (Comprised of Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi), most students and children in general are beginning to refuse to speak Swahili in the household, or even at all unless completely necessary. I had the privilege to discuss this in depth with a native Kenyan. He informed me that his children refuse to not only speak Swahili, but learn it in depth. They understand English to be a language known worldwide, a language of wealth, and a language of prosperity, to the point where they see no benefit of learning Swahili past simply the ability to communicate verbally in it. It appears that the children still take pride in their homeland and their heritage, but western dominance has otherwise forced them to adopt one of the most widely spoken languages in human history.
With this in mind, it is no wonder that English is prevalent throughout all Tanzanian schools. A simple comparison in the United States rests on how most schools, at least in the past 20 years, taught Spanish classes in elementary school, middle school and high school as a language thought wise to know, given how many US citizens were native Spanish speakers to begin with, and our proximity to both Mexico and most Spanish speaking countries.
With English as the focal point of study, it gets the bulk of time spent at school. The subject that receives the 2nd most attention ties between Mathematics and Civics/Social Studies, depending on the grade level. All classes must be taught in English, which makes teaching subjects such as Science and Mathematics increasingly difficult. Complex multiplication and division, square roots and exponents, and roman numerals all become a challenge when the student you are teaching has no prior understanding or comprehension of the words associated with the subject.
It thus takes a few days for certain subjects to be learned, whereas it would take little time if they were taught in their native language first before moving on to being taught the subject in English. For most of my time at Uhuru Peak, all classes worked on the same subject matter. For example, my 2nd graders were working on multiplication and multiplication only for three straight weeks, whereas 5th graders had a solid 2 weeks of roman numerals before moving onto Exponents and Square Roots (perhaps not the most effective track, but it follows the government guideline).
In my original struggles to teach various classes how to do mathematics beyond their usual capabilities, I began to notice something very peculiar. Being neither a teacher nor a mathematician, my chances on being wrong on the upcoming topic are high, yet it still struck me as odd. The retention rate for Math and Science was not high at all. Upon weekend breaks, coming back to do, quite literally, the same problems as the Friday before, the students found themselves struggling just as if I had brought up the subject as new.
It appears that for the younger students (pre 4th grade) that teaching all subjects in English is more of a detriment than benefit, as students still struggle to grasp basic grammar, speaking, and writing skills that native-English speakers have the pleasure of mastering at that age. It should be noted that English is incredibly important, but should be slowly entered into the classroom rather than very quickly.
My biggest curriculum struggles appeared to be with Science. All grade levels have one science book to be shared for the whole class, and as many science lectures in those books called for experiments, there was virtually no chance of performing experiments given the lack of equipment. This made it incredibly difficult to teach Science to all grade levels. How does one explain to second graders what boiling water and steam is without both the ability to show them and to explain it to them in their native tongue? I was forced to try to explain it through home examples, such as how steam would look when their mothers or fathers make rice (Rice is included in nearly every meal), yet this still fell flat.
Despite these fallbacks, most other subjects, such as grammar, spelling, English, Social Studies, and some Mathematics seemed to stick. The curriculum certainly helps prepare the kids for government guided tests, but, unless you count the English, it doesn’t appear to prepare for a lot more.
I remember my time in public Elementary school (and it should be noted that being a US student I was privileged beyond what Tanzanian primary schools could offer). There were library classes, music classes, art classes, computer courses (I even remember learning how to use computers without computers anywhere near us!), typing courses, life studies courses, and more! Yet at Uhuru Peak, there isn’t a shred of book in the library, not a single electrical outlet for any electrical devices, no art rooms, music lessons, or even dance lessons (which, as I have found out through discussions with other volunteers, are so easy and cheap to teach!). The only evidence of anything useful in the real world is Tanzanian is through Science and Social Studies.
In Science, one is taught the usefulness of farming and how to farm successfully (I was never taught any of that in school), as well as harmful diseases and how to spot them such as Malaria and HIV/AIDS (another thing western students avoid until later years). Social Studies unfold the geographical makeup of Tanzania and the natural resources it so graciously offers its inhabitants. These subjects certainly appear to be the most useful in the long run.
My final description on the curriculum rests on diseases. Children as young as pre-1st graders are taught the warning signs of HIV and AIDS, as well as how to spot someone who has the virus. They, however, are not taught how the virus is spread (as sexual studies are for later years). Students of all years are taught how to spot Tuberculosis, Typhoid, Malaria, and HIV/AIDS as these are common diseases to all Africans. When I began my journeys, I noticed immediately that all schools I passed taught extensively about these diseases. While when I think back to my elementary school years, I hardly remember learning anything other than how to spot a cold, the chicken-pox, and to stay away from drugs.
To overview, the curriculum is strong if one is to tie it directly to what the government outlines. It teaches English fluency throughout all years, from primary to secondary, and allows students the ability to function outside their home environments. Mathematics and Science at Tanzanian schools gives a solid foundation, yet lacks the crucial step of being able to figure out future problems and situations on your own. It is my wish that more (or any) artistic programs are introduced to give students a more well-balanced and full education. All in all, the students of all grade levels appear very happy and content with the education they are provided, as do their families, which is more than the schools could ask.

A major issue with the school, and quite frankly any school in Tanzania that suffers from a lack of funding, is that of the library. The library simply is not a library if it doesn’t hold a single book.
The question on how to deal with students of special needs is an important question indeed. Upon reading many government-guideline based teachers guides, they all point to one very sad conclusion: Unless you are an academic danger to those around you, you stay the course no matter how much you fall behind.
I use academic danger to convey what happens if, say, an autistic child with special needs simply can not control his or her actions in the classroom to the point where teaching becomes a chore. I use academic danger to show that someone with mental disabilities slows down the class to a rate that would render teaching the remaining kids pointless. Fortunately there are schools that specialize in special-needs education, however, most schools do not have programs for those who may need an extra boost, or those who may need just a bit more attention than the average student.
The policy amongst teachers is rather cruel to children who fall behind. On several occasions, I witnessed teachers who would verbally insult students (whilst speaking with volunteers) on their ability to keep up with the rest of the class. The classes I spent most of my time with seemed to follow the structure whereas if you can not keep up, then too bad for you. Many times I heard a number of teachers berate the students who work slowly or fall behind. It is not because the teachers do not care for the well-being of the child, but rather that they must follow the curriculum set aside by the government.
In fact, this policy is further enhanced by many of the school books which follow government set curriculum. For example, in the introduction to many of the teacher guides for the various subjects, the teachers are instructed to make sure, and I quote, “The dumb students pay full attention [to the smart students]”. Instead of enacting a policy which helps all students progress to learn the material no matter how long it takes them to learn it. The teachers simply are not provided the time and don’t carry any effort to make sure the students falling behind are able to catch up.



Uhuru Peak, and many Tanzanian schools, deserve applause and respect for the way they are able to teach their students given the curriculum, tools, and opportunities provided. While there are certainly many negatives in the schooling system throughout Tanzania, East Africa, and the whole African community, significant progress is being made and will continue to be made. Every generation that comes through the school system will invariably learn more than the previous generation. We are at an important step in African education, and whether to take an active role in its development could mean all the difference in the coming years.

I will now briefly describe a few of my students in order to build a bigger picture of Uhuru School, and the Tanzanian school system.

Agape: Agape is a 9 year old female student. After speaking and working with her, there is little I was able to learn from her. She is incredibly soft-spoken and, while her graded English work proves promising, she is very difficult to understand. While very timid amongst the teachers, she excels socially with the students around her. I am no expert in student-behavior, but this timid experience with her may have been the result of some extra forces, such as corporal punishment both at school and at home (yet I have no way to tell).
When Agape comes to ask a question, it is always with hesitation as to suggest that getting the wrong answer or asking the wrong question would result in severe punishment. No other student I have worked with expresses such fearful attitudes.
Like other students, she falls behind in Mathematics, and struggles to keep up in this subject. I have tried to show her how to do certain problems, and she is slowly learning. However, the school curriculum does not allow her to progress as well as other students, as she is thrust into more advanced mathematics before she has a firm grasp of the foundations. As I have mentioned previously, this is a result of the teachers desire for readiness for the end-of-term examinations, all of which seem to follow government curriculum.
Apart from her academics, she has a very infectious laugh that seems to spread to the students around her. No doubt this both enhances the classroom’s social life, but at times may inhibit others around her from learning.

Robert: Robert is one of the best students I have had the pleasure to teach at Uhuru Peak. He understands the material almost immediately and excels in graded school work. He is a stark contrast to many students as his clothing always appears brand new and clean, whereas most other students are worn and tattered. I wonder if his socio-economic status differs greatly from the rest of the students, yet he remains in the low-income school.
The Tanzanian curriculum bores him, and he makes a point to show it in class. A constant trouble maker and disturbance to the class, he is always the first to finish the work, the first to get all the right answers, and the first to make the annoyances that disrupt other students from learning. Unfortunately, many of the Tanzanian curriculum guided books suggest that this behavior be paraded around, as the students who are struggling are essentially told to follow his example of rapid and judicious work.

Tariq: Tariq is a great example of where teachers with special education focuses would be incredibly important in Tanzanian schools. Given the rushed curriculum I have seen at many, many schools, it is a shame that many students fall to the wayside. Tariq is an example of a student who, while he doesn’t perform horribly, appears to have ADD.
Tariq is bright, but his efforts in the classroom are lacking. He always seems distracted, never focuses on his work, yet is incredibly friendly and always, always has a smile on his face. His primary teacher shrugs off his behavior, lack of attention, and middle-of-the-road grades and laughs about it within earshot of Tariq.
This is a great example of how certain programs could be implemented to allow students suffering academically from ADD to excel beyond what they normally would be able to.

Students in General: To be young and carefree is simply a wondrous and incredible thing. Students in the United States and students in Tanzania share so much in common. They are carefree, they enjoy the little things, and can make hours of entertainment out of something adults find completely mundane. Every student I have encountered is happy and excited to have volunteers working with them. It gives them a chance to not only experience new cultures and people (Whites and Asians are a native rarity!) but to make new friends in the process.
Every morning, upon my arrival, I was greeted with the wide smiled children ready to pummel my hand with tons of high fives, 3rd graders charging up to give me a hug, and the little boys and girls of the 1st grade holding onto my hands as we walked to class.
They enjoy every moment of it (well, no one enjoys taking tests, but you get the picture), and gain just as much as the volunteers do. They wouldn’t trade what they have for the world, and why should they? Such a wonder it is for every child to be blissfully happy no matter the circumstances surrounding him or her.
It is said that every Tanzanian is friendly, no matter what. This trait, this cultural emblem of hospitality is passed down to the newest generation. I have yet to meet a single child who is rude, who is mean, or who dislikes anything about what they do every day. The Tanzanian schools excel at making, not keeping, the kids happy by doing what Tanzanians do best, through the friendliest human interactions I have ever encountered in a society.