The Students

The blackboard is so damaged she has to stick big sheets of white paper on it instead. The classroom is one of ten, housed under a massive tin roof. Tin roofs make a lot of noise when it rains, drowning out voices, drowning out opinions. The roof is angled and the tops of the walls of the classrooms flat. Sounds from other classrooms filter in, bouncing off the roof into our classroom like a bad reflection. There is no door, the floor is patterned with dust. The window faces a road where large trucks kick up billowing clouds of dust that lazily drift through the open windows. There is no electricity.

Costence’s voice battles the laughter from next door. She urges the students to speak louder, not to hide their mouths behind their hands. When she dictates a definition, she writes the harder words on the board so kids can see the spelling. Today’s topic? Deliberative dialogue – finding common ground from differing opinions. The problem is, the kids have never been asked for their opinions.

When asked to write down a definition, heads bend in one smooth motion and they diligently write, comfortable, brains shut off. When Costence asks them for an opinion, they giggle and shift in their seats uneasily. Their voices are quiet, words strung together like an awkward song spewed from pursed lips. They cover their mouths with their hands, like they’re ashamed of their own words and the impact they might have.