The School of Ifrane

15 days and counting until the end of Ramadan. Well, it could be 15, or it could be 16 depending on when the new moon is seen, but at this point, when we are only 12 days in and I am most definitely feeling it, I like to try and look on the optimistic side. I just can't wait for life to return to normal. The other day we went out for a walk to explore some of the back streets around town. We ended up getting lost and walking a lot further than intended, mind you bonus was we did find the pub: a pretty but run-down building overlooking the lake. It looks similar to everything else out here only it had a hallowed beer sign out the front....15 days.... Anyway, after getting lost on our walk in 36 degree dry heat, unable to drink any water, I was hit badly by dehydration. Now for those who know me well, I’m not one for needing much water, and have got by on less than a litre most days whatever the climate. I have occasionally felt slightly parched and assumed I was dehydrated, but that was nothing compared to what happened after getting lost that day. It may have had something to do with the fact that I had been running for the two evenings before and failed to rehydrate properly (dry heat at 1650 metres above sea level apparently takes a little more toll on the body than I’m used to), but for about four hours afterwards I was queasy, weak, and very dizzy. It took a long time for the effect of liquid replenishment to kick in.

Watching the roofers who have been working on replacing the tiles and waterproofing on all the apartment blocks at work only make me feel more of a pathetic weakling. I walked around for a few hours without water and became a swooning wreck. These guys work in the blistering sun, without shade, without food, and more importantly, without any water since 5.30 am. They walk/slide around twenty metres above the ground without any form of rope or security. God help them if they get a case of the dehydration dizzies. While I have the utmost respect for them I am getting rather tired of being woken up between 5.45 – 6. 00 am. by hammering and overly cheerful shouting. I have also found myself running across the kitchen to hide when they unexpectedly appear on the roof opposite and I’m only dressed in T-Shirt and underwear. This morning I got up early in search of a cool breeze and stretched out on the sofa bed next to the lounge window to read, only to look up after a while to find a man perched on the edge of the overhang about two metres away from me and with full view of my 'inappropriate' dress. 

A few days ago we went into the school for the first time. Our apartment is less than fifty metres from the entrance. I foresee many last minute roll outs from bed in the near future. The school is slightly run down at the moment and had the decorators working. It has big open spaces with thirty feet vaulted ceilings. The classrooms are a reasonable size and are very colourful, but at the moment they lack any form of creature comforts. They are just empty canvasses. All those posters I lovingly made and left behind in Bangkok would be really useful right now.

The students at the school range from two years old to eighteen years old. This year there are only 86 students enrolled. About sixty of them are in the primary section. I have fouteen. This year there are no Grade 9 students. The aim is to increase the size of the school but it will take time. We will be following an American/International Curriculum, and in this town many feel that the stricter and more regulated French system is preferable. Ifrane School was changed to the French system five years ago at the request of the parents as they felt the American system too soft. The University (which the school is part of) was apparently instructed by the king that they had to revert to the old system, which is why we are here. We now have to get the students back on track for an international education.

While in the school we met with the other new teachers for the first time. There were six of us in all, including our new boss who is a lady from America who has lived here for 28 years. One lady is Moroccan but has spent the last fifteen years in New York, another Italian but has lived in Ifrane for five years, and then the last is a young Canadian girl who is here with her partner who has never really travelled before. It must be quite a shock to the system. Myself, Nick and Sarah the Canadian girl make up the entire elementary department. Thankfully we were given free reign over choice of grades. I had been put down for the five year olds, which I wasn't really thrilled about, but Sarah loves the little ones so was keen to swap. I now have Grade 1-2 and Nick 3-4. In Australia I really loved teaching the older kids, but here I think my lack of French would make it hard for the switch over to English at that level. After teaching native speakers I’m quite nervous about going back to ESL. Hopefully it's a bit like riding a bike.