The classes are run by teachers from England and Ireland and other places where Mr. Nigel, Miss Kim and Class Five's teacher, Miss Dierdre found the advertisement. They have taught around the world and the El-Gouna International School may be in Egypt, but it's still like teaching around the world. The children are connected to the adults who run this resort and are blond blue-eyed, dark hair, dark skinned; have names like Tisha, Hany and Jan Jacobs. Some are German, Swedish, English, from the Emirates and one boy was from Gaza.
i was sent to Class five and my audience was made up of squirrely ten and eleven year olds each wearing the yellow EGIS polo shirts. Each of us writers had a different class and each of us came armed with stories, collages, rap songs, poetry and excitement. I would tell a story about my father wearing my story hat (an El-Gouna souvenir) and then pass it onto the next story teller.
The kids basically wanted to talk about themselves because I talked about myself. The floodgates opened. Miss Deidre stood patiently in the back while I taught them little and just listened a lot. The hat went round and round.
Since most of us go through some kind of education in our lives and some of us teach, the questions about this school and environment are pretty much answered by the interactions of the kids themselves. They bragged about each other's different backgrounds, they confessed to making silly mistakes and having embarrassing moments. Jan Jacobs who was there from Germany for just a few months, popped up during a story and grabbed the dictionary. His English improved through his own will, his life with his peers and his willingness not to be embarrassed by needing the dictionary.
The headmaster Mr Nigel came to rescue me from my fans at the end of class, could barely get me out the door. But when I did I saw my friends and their glistening sense of satisfaction from their experiences.
Nothing was electronic, three-D, animated, pixelated, digital, projected, needed a joystick or a computer. It was simple. We exchanged stories and for that minute felt enchantment had returned.
Hang on to it. These moments are short
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