Uganda: Who else just loves rote memorization?

Students working on their pictures of pigs, wolves and houses after hearing the story of the Three Little Pigs.

You've got about 40 kids silently staring at you, and all you've got is a blackboard and chalk.

This is the school: There are two buildings about the size of my local coffee shop, three classrooms, 97 students, a couple dozen benches, and not a book or a pencil and paper in sight.

"Today we begin with subtraction," began the teacher. "Say, 'subtraction.'"

"Subtraction," echoed the students.

"Subtraction," said the teacher.

"Subtraction," said the students.

"Everybody. Subtraction."

"Subtraction."

The teacher pointed to the 6.

"Six," said the teacher.

"Six," said the students.

"Six."

"Six."

"Six."

"Six."

"Everybody, six."

"Six."

"Minus," said the teacher. And on the lesson went. I mean, let's be fair: How creative can you get with all those kids and no resources but chalk? The teachers have been taught in the way they were taught: The entire education system of Uganda is based purely on rote memorization. It is designed to weed out children; it is not designed to teach kids to think. Unfortunately, in the government-sponsored schools, class sizes are usually around 200. Kids in the back can't even see what the teacher writes on the board, let alone absorb any learning and have a chance to move on to higher education. The beauty of the Coburwas school is that class sizes are 30-40, meaning the kids get a chance, at least. And two meals a day, whereas the government schools don't provide anything.

As teachers, it was pretty hard for L, H and me to see so many children with so few resources at their disposal to learn. These teachers simply don't have the ability to say to their children: "Write about what you did last weekend," or even, "Copy these problems from the board."

L and H and I had packed in several packages of construction paper, a huge box of crayons, and about 100 pencils. And one fine day, the teaching was up to us.

From the school administrator's office, we found and unearthed a children's book: The Three Little Pigs. Hay, sticks and bricks were lying all around the school yard. If all else failed, we could at least act it out.

All I had to do was take a seat in the lawn. In less than five minutes, about 60 children were crowded as close as they could get, eyes on me, absolutely rapt with attention.

"Once upon a time..." I began.

The entire time, every single child was absolutely silent (except to answer my questions about the book). Every single child stared at the book as if it were a spaceship descending from the sky. None of them poked their neighbors or started whispering or even got distracted when someone walked by. I've never had a better audience in my life. Together, we all "huffed" (picture 60 children taking a huge, gasp-like breath). Together, we "puffed" (now picture those kids with their cheeks puffed up.) Together, we "bleeeeeeeeeeew the house in!"

Afterward, we distributed the crayons and construction paper and told them to draw a picture of the story. I've never seen a more confused crowd in my life. They just sat there, crayons grasped in their grubby little fists, staring at me. Finally, I said, "Were there chickens in the story?"

"No."

"Were there goats in the story?"

"No."

"What was in the story?"

"Pigs."

"Okay, draw some pigs."

They stared some more. They looked blankly at the paper, set the tip of the crayon on it, and froze. I think this is the first time some of them ever had paper that was not meant for an examination. Finally, someone started drawing: a circle with four lines coming out for legs.

"Great job!" I exclaimed. "I see your pig! How many pigs were in the story? Can you draw two more?"

Apparently, that "great job" was all the kids needed. Suddenly realizing that doing this could get them some personal attention, suddenly every child was madly drawing pigs, houses, the funniest-looking wolves I've ever seen. They jumped up off their benches and basically rushed me, saying, "Auntie! Look! Auntie! Look!"

"Great job! Beautiful!" I said.