Oui5: Getting schooled in Robi

This week was S.'s first in her school in Robi. Kabete Junior Academy (KJA) is a British curriculum school located not 10 minutes from where our new house will be, in a nabe called Spring Valley (I will describe the house in another post soon).

The 'British curriculum' thing set my south asian spidey sense tingling a little - how was that to be interpreted: running down foxes while on horseback, Marmite sandwiches, compulsory sodomy in the prefect's study? My field research suggests (i.e. chatting with other parents and teachers), that it simply means that they stress academia relatively early on, and that they have a lot more rules than S. was used to in Brooklyn. Both good things, in my eyes.

S.'s class is called the Rhinos, and her teacher is Ms. M. (name withheld for common sense reasons). Ms. M. is a no-nonsense lady, and speaks as if Sony had designed a speaking-voice for a Commonwealth android. Much like an android, she greets each student by first and last name:
e.g. 'Why hello, Audrey Wise-Man" (pronounced literally - Wise Man)

First day, she had each student (average age 3.5, btw) come up to the front of the class and give a brief presentation on what they did over the break (we just ended a middle term break), subjecting them all the while to such feedback as 'Please make eye contact, Mr. Farron" or "Please speak clearly Ms. Khan". S. was wide-eyed in Anno's arms watching this, and we (including Ms. M.) thought that S. would just give it a miss. But when all the children had presented (I used that term advisedly), S. volunteered to go up and gave an account, laced with falsehood, of how she'd been to the beach to see a whale. When questioned by Ms. M about the size of the whale, S. didn't hesitate for a second: small! (clever bit of diversion, that detail)

I thought we had had a week exciting enough (parties, hike in Karura forest, visit to tribal villages, handiworks market, swim class...) not to warrant being so casual with the truth, but the calm-under-fire of the girl kept me from disappointment.

S. is loving it (my current withholding pleasurable thing/activity threat is: "Ok that's it, we're not going to school tomorrow if you keep INSERT DANGEROUS/RUDE BEHAVIOUR HERE"), but there are definitely things by which she is bemused :

Uniforms - on balance, she enjoys the dress-up routine in the morning
Greetings - much like boarding school, Ms. M must be greeted by a full-throated volley of 'GOOD MORNING MS M' from the entire class. S. just stares with mouth open at her classmates during this ritual.
Circle time etiquette: Kids are required to sit cross-legged with hands in their laps, making eye contact with the person speaking. I think this is laudable. A tall order, but laudable... S. was lying down with her chin in both hands, Maple Street-style!
Activities - The class activities blow away anything on offer in Brooklyn. Monday (pony rides), Tuesday (karate), Wednesday (yoga)... Lunch is held in a sun-dappled courtyard, and S. is eating a lot of Indian food (fresh chapatis, daal, raita, curry etc.) Yesterday she said lunch was her favourite part of the day (chip off the old block!)
Diversity - Again, the social (don't know enough about economic diversity of parents/kids) diversity in the class far surpasses that of our Brooklyn school. Today they celebrated Diwali (I was a little saddened when S. asked me, what is a Diwali?), and on Friday they are doing halloween. The kids' names range from Shiyuki to Imran to Devon (the Kenyan dude).

Photographic evidence of S.'s love of KJA below. BTW, this face of hers (which you will see over and over in recent photos), is an imitation of a billboard advertisement for a paint company called Duracoat, which billboard is plastered all over the city. In it, a guy with vaudevillean face is holding up a strip of paint, and pointing at it with his other hand. It is unclear how this tableau evidences the quality of said paint. Regardless, S. calls this guy 'my buddy', and junctions/roads where we know the billboard will be are cause for great anticipation and excitement as we drive across the city. Without further ado, I give you (in the spirit of Zoolander) the 'Duracoat':