It's now been two weeks since I've been at Hilton and school holidays are just around the corner. And I’ll tell you - it couldn't have come at a better time. Two weeks have given me good insight into the school and has also given me time to get to know almost all of its 84 students. I have spent the last 2 weeks orientating, learning basic sign language, getting to know kid’s names and their conditions, commencing initial assessments and searching through dusty cupboards. Each day, the task seems to grow bigger, more impossible and unmanageable each day.
Two days ago I found myself feeling mighty overwhelmed. What on earth have I gotten myself into? NONE of the kids have had any baseline outcome measures done on them. Notes are unclear as to what has been happening with them. Files are EVERYWHERE in random stacks on random shelves. The school files that do exist on each student are patchy and incomplete. There is no system for filing things. There is no concept of filing by alphabetical order, by class or by age. Some of the children don't even know when their birthday is. Some children have multiple names. For example, a child can be called something like "Adi Asenaca Salote Miriama Varei" but will be called "Maria" at school. Birthdates that can be found on files do not correlate to the birthdates on other files or documents that exist on the same student. The spelling of names varies depending on which document you want to look at.
At parent-teacher interviews, Lauren and I thought that we would try and get the story straight for each of the children. We asked questions like:
"How did your child come to Hilton?"
"At what age did you realise something was not quite right"
"What concerns you most about your child?"
And we got responses such as the following:
Lauren and I: "So when did you realise your child was deaf?"
Mother: "When she was 10"
Lauren and I: "So did something happen when she was 10?"
Mother: "No."
Lauren and I: "So before you were communicating with her fine and then one day when she was 10 years old she couldn't hear properly anymore?"
Mother: "Yes."
And others like:
Lauren and I: "At what age was your child first able to roll over?"
Mother: "ohh, about 1 year old"
Lauren and I: "and at what age was your child able to walk?"
Mother: "about 1 year old as well"
Lauren and I: "so they didn't move much before they were one. Then they learnt how to roll, and then they were able to stand up and walk straight away?"
Mother, with raised eyebrows: "Io" ("io" meaning "yes" in Fijian)
I also meant to be training up one of the staff members. The purpose of this is for skills transfer and capacity building so that when I leave, someone can still carry on the knowledge. In theory, it’s a great idea. However, I have a bit of a problem in that my co-worker will turn up to school, disappear, and re-appear at the end of the day. I have no idea where she's been or what she's been doing but I'm still meant to be working closely with her.
I have been told that relationship building is the most important part of the first three months. Even if nothing is achieved in the first three months, the relationship I establish now will be paramount to the success of my year at Hilton. However, I'm finding it rather difficult to build a relationship when the person I'm meant to be building a relationship cannot be found for some parts of the day.
Now that I'm getting to know the kids, my head is beginning to become soaked with ideas for treatment. Some nights, I can’t get to sleep because my head is exploding with information and I am constantly trying to figure out a solution to the problems I am facing. I am being impatient and I want to solve them NOW.
I knew this assignment was meant to be a challenge, but it is now starting to dawn on me just how complex a challenge it will actually be.
So school holidays: not quite a vacation.
84 students
20 interviews completed
20 student’s initial assessments commenced
Number of reports actually completed: none.
Person to complete them: me.
…and a whole term’s worth of activities to plan.
Bring on the school holidays.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
TO MARKET, TO MARKET
Saturday is becoming my favourite day of the week in Suva. There are a number of reasons for this. The first one is that I get to sleep in or enjoy the sunrise that I can see from my bedroom window. I don’t have to rush out to be at work at eight. Another reason is that there is significantly less traffic on the weekend and so there’s less pollution from the diesel engines of the noisy Suva bus service. And although I do miss work on the weekend in Melbourne, it’s nice to have the weekend to unwind and recover from the school week. The best part though, is that the fridge is bare. This means that we get to go shopping!
Supermarkets are depressing in Suva. Cadbury chocolate costs $11 and everything you can buy at home cheaply (e.g. pasta, chips, lollies, peanut butter, cheese, yoghurt and juice in particular) is expensive as most western things are imported.
Don’t worry mum, I am eating well because during our in-country orientation, we were shown:
THE MARKET!
The market is open all days of the week except Sunday. The indoor section is always open. From Thursday to Saturday, the village ladies are also there to sell their produce. The village ladies will arrive late on Wednesday night and set up camp along the roads and footpath outside the main market. The money they earn will goes directly to them, unlike the stores in the undercover market where the money goes to a “middle man” who gets a cut of what is sold. Therefore, it is cheaper to buy it from the outdoor village sellers and it helps the villagers earn an honest buck.
Fruit and vegetables are sold in “heaps” or “piles” rather than by the kilo. The size of a “pile” depends on which fruit or vegetable you are buying. For example, paw paws are sold five in a pile, pineapple has six to a pile, cucumber has three to a pile and sweet potato has way too much in a pile. You can buy coconuts, taro, cassava, carrots, cabbage, bananas, green mandarins, Chinese vegetables, eggs, imported applies, beans, tomatoes, chilli, watermelon and the list goes on. Food is abundant and piles range from 50cents to $3 a pile depending on what’s in season.
Today’s lunch menu was fresh from the market: fruit salad with fresh pineapple, paw paw, watermelon, banana and a tablespoon of yoghurt. We still have some left over if you want any!
Supermarkets are depressing in Suva. Cadbury chocolate costs $11 and everything you can buy at home cheaply (e.g. pasta, chips, lollies, peanut butter, cheese, yoghurt and juice in particular) is expensive as most western things are imported.
Don’t worry mum, I am eating well because during our in-country orientation, we were shown:
THE MARKET!
The market is open all days of the week except Sunday. The indoor section is always open. From Thursday to Saturday, the village ladies are also there to sell their produce. The village ladies will arrive late on Wednesday night and set up camp along the roads and footpath outside the main market. The money they earn will goes directly to them, unlike the stores in the undercover market where the money goes to a “middle man” who gets a cut of what is sold. Therefore, it is cheaper to buy it from the outdoor village sellers and it helps the villagers earn an honest buck.
Fruit and vegetables are sold in “heaps” or “piles” rather than by the kilo. The size of a “pile” depends on which fruit or vegetable you are buying. For example, paw paws are sold five in a pile, pineapple has six to a pile, cucumber has three to a pile and sweet potato has way too much in a pile. You can buy coconuts, taro, cassava, carrots, cabbage, bananas, green mandarins, Chinese vegetables, eggs, imported applies, beans, tomatoes, chilli, watermelon and the list goes on. Food is abundant and piles range from 50cents to $3 a pile depending on what’s in season.
Today’s lunch menu was fresh from the market: fruit salad with fresh pineapple, paw paw, watermelon, banana and a tablespoon of yoghurt. We still have some left over if you want any!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Oh, and another thing..
As per my previous post, this is the furniture shop that is brighter than Bula fabric
.
.
FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL
Let me finally introduce you to Hilton Special School. It is a school that sits on the west side of Waimanu road, opposite Suva's CWM hospital. I arrive at 8am in the morning and the school is quiet. I walk down the hill towards the school's assembly area. M.A, the school's recemptionist, greets us with a "Yadra!" as she sweeps the leaves away from the gravel assembly area. To the right is Master P's vocational training building and to the left is the main school building. From the back of the school, you can see this:
But be careful, the school is on a cliff edge and the fence that separates the school grounds from the cliff edge is in need of repair.
The school starts from "Transition" which is like a prep-level class that is mainly for those with the more severe intellectual disabilities. The children's ages range from about 6 right through to 19. Then there are grades 1-4 for the "physically impaired" and grades 1-7 for the "hearing impaired". After this there are vocational classes.
The children begin to arrive at about 8:15. Now the chatter, squeals of excitement and pattering feet can be heard down the school's main narrow corridor. The hostel children arrive with J and they wave and sign "good morning" in auslan. Then the first busload arrives. It is at this point the school jumps to life. Now I mentioned the narrow corridor which is also very dark because the lights haven't been turned on yet. I walk down the corridor towards the Physiotherapy department. I get bumped by Illie, Ju wraps her arms around me to say hello (she doesn't speak...yet), Jaz tries to tickle me and Sol tries to teach me more signing words so I can understand what Jaz is trying to say to me.
I push open two massive sliding doors that open up into a room about 10x7metres. This is the Physiotherapy department. My laptop is set up and my bag is stored in the dusty cupboard where all the equipment is kept. At the back of the Physiotherapy "department" (which is actually just a single room) there is a hydrotherapy pool of about 3 metres squared. Currently it is looking a bit algae-y as it is too cold to be doing any hydrotherapy at the moment. Cold is about 20 degrees here.
And of course there is no way I can do any work before 9am. Azzie, being exceptionally curious will come up to me and turn my laptop towards herself and ask me to explain everything to her. Tee also dances up to my desk and demands that I play "mercy" with her.
Then finally, the bell rings at 9:00am for classes to start.
The halls fill with the morning songs and prayers that open up each class for the day.
So far I've been observing the children in their classroom environment. They all participate in reading, phonics, mathematics, singing and of course, writing. The classrooms are heavily decorated with alphabet posters, mobiles made from coathangers, hand-drawn posters of stories that they have read together, fallen tree branches with small pieces of paper hanging off them. All the windows look out over Suva harbour and there's this gorgeous breeze that frequents the classroom throughout the morning.
And just like that, morning tea passes by at 10:30. The next session reconvenes at 10:45. The school prefects supervise the classes until the teachers return from morning tea at about 11:00. Lunch comes around and the children say grace before eating their meals at their desks in their classrooms. The bell rings again at 12:15 and the chatter, the laughter, the screaming and the running feet pervade the hallway and the school grounds once more.
Lunch comes and goes and the children assemble for some announcements before heading inside for the last 2 hours of classes, clubs or physical education.
And where do I fit in all of this? More to come next post =)
But be careful, the school is on a cliff edge and the fence that separates the school grounds from the cliff edge is in need of repair.
The school starts from "Transition" which is like a prep-level class that is mainly for those with the more severe intellectual disabilities. The children's ages range from about 6 right through to 19. Then there are grades 1-4 for the "physically impaired" and grades 1-7 for the "hearing impaired". After this there are vocational classes.
The children begin to arrive at about 8:15. Now the chatter, squeals of excitement and pattering feet can be heard down the school's main narrow corridor. The hostel children arrive with J and they wave and sign "good morning" in auslan. Then the first busload arrives. It is at this point the school jumps to life. Now I mentioned the narrow corridor which is also very dark because the lights haven't been turned on yet. I walk down the corridor towards the Physiotherapy department. I get bumped by Illie, Ju wraps her arms around me to say hello (she doesn't speak...yet), Jaz tries to tickle me and Sol tries to teach me more signing words so I can understand what Jaz is trying to say to me.
I push open two massive sliding doors that open up into a room about 10x7metres. This is the Physiotherapy department. My laptop is set up and my bag is stored in the dusty cupboard where all the equipment is kept. At the back of the Physiotherapy "department" (which is actually just a single room) there is a hydrotherapy pool of about 3 metres squared. Currently it is looking a bit algae-y as it is too cold to be doing any hydrotherapy at the moment. Cold is about 20 degrees here.
And of course there is no way I can do any work before 9am. Azzie, being exceptionally curious will come up to me and turn my laptop towards herself and ask me to explain everything to her. Tee also dances up to my desk and demands that I play "mercy" with her.
Then finally, the bell rings at 9:00am for classes to start.
The halls fill with the morning songs and prayers that open up each class for the day.
So far I've been observing the children in their classroom environment. They all participate in reading, phonics, mathematics, singing and of course, writing. The classrooms are heavily decorated with alphabet posters, mobiles made from coathangers, hand-drawn posters of stories that they have read together, fallen tree branches with small pieces of paper hanging off them. All the windows look out over Suva harbour and there's this gorgeous breeze that frequents the classroom throughout the morning.
And just like that, morning tea passes by at 10:30. The next session reconvenes at 10:45. The school prefects supervise the classes until the teachers return from morning tea at about 11:00. Lunch comes around and the children say grace before eating their meals at their desks in their classrooms. The bell rings again at 12:15 and the chatter, the laughter, the screaming and the running feet pervade the hallway and the school grounds once more.
Lunch comes and goes and the children assemble for some announcements before heading inside for the last 2 hours of classes, clubs or physical education.
And where do I fit in all of this? More to come next post =)
Monday, August 9, 2010
HOME SWEET HOME!
Our new home: Ruve St (pronounced “roo-veh”), Suva.
Ruve, meaning pigeon in Fijian, is our new home for the next year. I am hoping that our street name will reflect our ability to always find our way around in the months to come. …The other alternative is that we look like pigeons walking around with poking necks and carrying disease. My stomach has already been reflective of the latter.
As the house is actually two mirror-image units, we have two kitchens, two bathrooms and a massive shared living space. It’s near shops, buses to town and most importantly, it’s close to work.
What’s amazing is that if I walk five minutes down the road to the right and over the hill, I will find squatter’s settlement. Despite this, it is still a safe neighbourhood to live in.
We have a church behind our house from which we can hear gospel music most nights of the week. An old lady and a student live down stairs and to our left are a lovely Indo-Fijian couple.
Our furniture is from the garish establishment that is Rups Big Bear. Rups Big Bear sells everything your grandmother owned but with a tenfold increase in dag factor. Our settee is a floral blue and our bed heads are floral red. Our dining table surpasses tacky.
The powerpoints in the house are in the most illogical places, e.g. in the upper corner of our room where the roof meets the wall. There are no powerpoints near any kitchen bench space and so our appliances are lined up on the floor against the wall of our living area.
The garden is laden with cabbage, corn, raddish and longbeans that our landlord planted. Luke, the husband of my Speechy colleague, Lauren is drooling at the prospect of being able to garden properly for the first time ever.
So that is our house on Ruve Street, Samabula: almost great, but in other respects, really not quite there.
Friday, August 6, 2010
THE HOUSE SEARCH
We are four volunteers plus one husband in the middle of Suva desperately seeking a home for one year. Our party of five are reluctant to separate into different households out of convenience, cost and companionship. The criteria that we set for our home sweet home were:
• Needs four bedrooms (at least)
• Furnished
• Clean
• Close to work or transport to work
Pretty straight forward right? Mmm. Yeah.no.
The search began on Monday in the last week of July. The first real estate agent shows us two units (one and two bedrooms), a two bedroom unit which made the housing commissions in Melbourne look like palaces and a three bedroom place which was half decent but apparently someone had just died there….
Tuesday showed us an awesome four bedroom apartment with polished floorboards, plenty of space to move around and central to all of our work places. There was a slight problem in that it was in the notorious suburb of Raiwaqa (pronounced “Raiwanga”). For those of you who aren’t familiar with Raiwaqa, they recently moved a whole bunch of squatters to another area, but some have stayed behind. Apparently they’re not a friendly lot and might be responsible for the rise in violent attacks in that area.
Wednesday looked slightly better with a five bedroom house, but this one was neglected and dirty. I also managed to acquire three mosquito bites in the space of 10 minutes – Mr Dengue, this is Amanda. Amanda, I’d like you to meet Mr Dengue. Amanda dislikes Mr Dengue.
Thursday we started to venture further out of town. Surely there’d be something on the market for us all.
Thursday exceeded our expectations. A house we dubbed “the palace” was found. Three rooms plus maids quarters, plus upstairs mini-apartment plus sky level room via a spiral staircase. The interior was kitted out with antique furniture, top of the range whitegoods and smelt like a hotel. Oh, and they threw in an amazing view of Suva harbour for free. Even the rent was affordable. The catch? A steep uphill climb for 10 minutes through a rough neighbourhood which was poorly lit at night to catch the bus. We were also concerned about the impression of absurd affluence we’d portray to our colleagues who are probably earning pittance for what they actually deserve.
Friday saw desperation. We had exhausted all the options from the listed real estates. Our in-country manager, drove us randomly around the streets of Suva for three hours looking for places that either looked big and vacant or had a “for rent” sign on it. One house only had three bedrooms. That house was too far away from the city. This house was not in a good neighbourhood. The other house has fallen into disrepair. The construction of those apartments had not even finished.
By this stage the five of us were in hysterics. We had the giggles and our concentration had hit the wall. We were exhausted and frustrated. Stress was building up and manifesting itself in fits of laughter and insignificant oddities. At one point, our ICM drove past a dog with four puppies. He slowed the car down and rolled down his window. What he did next completely flipped us over the edge. He proceeded to talk to the dog with four puppies:
“Excuse me, we are looking for a four bedroom house in a good area.”
The mother dog charged at the car, barking aggressively to protect her puppies. Our ICM continued in his thick Fijian accent,
“Since there are four of you, you should have a four bedroom house. So if it is okay with you and your four children, I think we will move into your house?”
Now these dogs were looking rather unhappy, growling and baring their teeth at us. I was convinced one of them would jump into the car through the window and have a feast of us all. Our ICM rolled up his window and started to drive away and concluded:
“She will not be a reliable landlord.”
The weekend passed and Monday finally came around. Our ICM remembered a house that he looked at with the last intake of volunteers. It was a set of two, two bedroom units, with the partition yet to be inserted into the house. He had located and contacted the landlord over the weekend. Inspection time was arranged and what we found was:
• Four bedrooms, each of a good size two without cupboards
• Two sets of kitchen and two bathrooms
• An excellent and fair location for all of us to get to work
• A good neighbourhood with friendly neighbours
• Massive living area that I could hold ballroom dancing lessons in
• BUT….UNFURNISHED.
The deal has been sealed with this house and I’ll tell you more about our new home in the next post from Mobilised Manda.
• Needs four bedrooms (at least)
• Furnished
• Clean
• Close to work or transport to work
Pretty straight forward right? Mmm. Yeah.no.
The search began on Monday in the last week of July. The first real estate agent shows us two units (one and two bedrooms), a two bedroom unit which made the housing commissions in Melbourne look like palaces and a three bedroom place which was half decent but apparently someone had just died there….
Tuesday showed us an awesome four bedroom apartment with polished floorboards, plenty of space to move around and central to all of our work places. There was a slight problem in that it was in the notorious suburb of Raiwaqa (pronounced “Raiwanga”). For those of you who aren’t familiar with Raiwaqa, they recently moved a whole bunch of squatters to another area, but some have stayed behind. Apparently they’re not a friendly lot and might be responsible for the rise in violent attacks in that area.
Wednesday looked slightly better with a five bedroom house, but this one was neglected and dirty. I also managed to acquire three mosquito bites in the space of 10 minutes – Mr Dengue, this is Amanda. Amanda, I’d like you to meet Mr Dengue. Amanda dislikes Mr Dengue.
Thursday we started to venture further out of town. Surely there’d be something on the market for us all.
Thursday exceeded our expectations. A house we dubbed “the palace” was found. Three rooms plus maids quarters, plus upstairs mini-apartment plus sky level room via a spiral staircase. The interior was kitted out with antique furniture, top of the range whitegoods and smelt like a hotel. Oh, and they threw in an amazing view of Suva harbour for free. Even the rent was affordable. The catch? A steep uphill climb for 10 minutes through a rough neighbourhood which was poorly lit at night to catch the bus. We were also concerned about the impression of absurd affluence we’d portray to our colleagues who are probably earning pittance for what they actually deserve.
Friday saw desperation. We had exhausted all the options from the listed real estates. Our in-country manager, drove us randomly around the streets of Suva for three hours looking for places that either looked big and vacant or had a “for rent” sign on it. One house only had three bedrooms. That house was too far away from the city. This house was not in a good neighbourhood. The other house has fallen into disrepair. The construction of those apartments had not even finished.
By this stage the five of us were in hysterics. We had the giggles and our concentration had hit the wall. We were exhausted and frustrated. Stress was building up and manifesting itself in fits of laughter and insignificant oddities. At one point, our ICM drove past a dog with four puppies. He slowed the car down and rolled down his window. What he did next completely flipped us over the edge. He proceeded to talk to the dog with four puppies:
“Excuse me, we are looking for a four bedroom house in a good area.”
The mother dog charged at the car, barking aggressively to protect her puppies. Our ICM continued in his thick Fijian accent,
“Since there are four of you, you should have a four bedroom house. So if it is okay with you and your four children, I think we will move into your house?”
Now these dogs were looking rather unhappy, growling and baring their teeth at us. I was convinced one of them would jump into the car through the window and have a feast of us all. Our ICM rolled up his window and started to drive away and concluded:
“She will not be a reliable landlord.”
The weekend passed and Monday finally came around. Our ICM remembered a house that he looked at with the last intake of volunteers. It was a set of two, two bedroom units, with the partition yet to be inserted into the house. He had located and contacted the landlord over the weekend. Inspection time was arranged and what we found was:
• Four bedrooms, each of a good size two without cupboards
• Two sets of kitchen and two bathrooms
• An excellent and fair location for all of us to get to work
• A good neighbourhood with friendly neighbours
• Massive living area that I could hold ballroom dancing lessons in
• BUT….UNFURNISHED.
The deal has been sealed with this house and I’ll tell you more about our new home in the next post from Mobilised Manda.
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