STORY by JESSICA MCHUGH
PHOTOS by MARVIN HALELAMIEN
Students clad in green and white chatter vigorously as the bus slows to turn left and continue on Queen’s Highway to the high school in Lovehill. To go straight would lead to AUTEC, the U.S. Navy’s undersea warfare lab, but the familiar sign on the left signals the turn north: “Welcome to Andros Town: Love is something if you give it away.”
For the 30-minute ride to Central Andros High School on Andros Island, Bahamas, 14-year-old James Clarke sits somewhere in the middle, laughing with friends. He is a confident kid with an innate intelligence, quick to smile and just as quick to act twice his age.
Bus No. 22 pulls up across the track next to the fence, as a security guard waits to greet the students at the gate. The kids on the bus are all related in some way or another, as they’re all traveling from the settlement of Bowen Sound. The chatter grows louder as school bus driver Bonefish Bradley, whose father owns the rickety American school bus, opens the door and the kids funnel off the bus.
James passes by the bright green and beige administration building with “Welcome to Cougar Country” painted on the side. He has social studies with Mr. Mackey in the far building, Block C. The door and windows are open; a fan idles overhead.
Mr. Mackey is in his early 30s and originally from the Bahamian island Eleuthera. Today, he continues a history lesson, engaging the class to respond collectively:
“Which party is in office right now?”
“FNM!”
“And who would be the other party in opposition?”
“PLP!”
“Everybody understand what opposition means?”
Mr. Mackey turns to the board and writes the year the Bahamas obtained independence from Great Britain: 1973.
“Right people?
“When you are independent you are—?”
“Free!”
Mr. Mackey calls “Mr. Clarke” to the board to write down one thing the Loyalists did while they were in the Bahamas. Mr. Mackey already wrote the answers on the board during the lesson.
With a slight hesitation, James goes up to the blackboard. Some of the kids call out to him, reminding James to look at the board. He takes his time, copying each letter of the answer: “established cotton plantations to grow cotton.”
When the bell rings for the next class, Mr. Mackey explains streaming: when the students enter Central Andros in seventh grade, they take a test and are placed into one of four levels, remaining separated throughout their high school careers.
“We have to split them up because of class sizes and availability of teachers,” Mr. Mackey says.
In ninth through 12th grades, there are streams one and two. James is in ninth grade, stream two.
“He does well. He’s one of our better students in the class. Very helpful,” Mr. Mackey says.
But James has reading problems, a common struggle with second-stream students. Many teachers blame lack of resources for the literacy problems, others blame lack of discipline. Central Andros uses corporal punishment to discipline its students, but some teachers struggle to control their classes.
Just like any education system, there are many factors at play.
It’s hard to find teachers in the Bahamas, period. With a booming tourism industry, Bahamians do not want teaching careers. That’s why they import what they call “ex-pats,” teachers from nearby countries. For an Out Island like Andros, it’s even harder to find teachers. Some Androsians feel forgotten. The lack of resources plaguing Central Andros is affecting the student’s abilities to gain the necessary skills to continue their education.
“We have a fair percentage of non-readers. Der are no special education teachers on da island,” says Mr. Rolle, who is the senior master at the school. “We don’ have da resources.”
A language barrier
In Mr. Nichols’ third-period language arts class, the students are learning adjectives and adverbs. Mr. Nichols, who is 54 and originally from Guyana, looks on as students copy down paragraphs from the board.
“I’m trained to teach primary school but because I teach English, I teach secondary school,” he says.
The hum in the room grows louder as students finish copying from the board. Mr. Nichols commands that the students calm down, but they don’t listen.
He says before moving to Andros in March, he taught primary school in Rum Caye. There, teachers used corporal punishment to keep students in line.
“Even though you weren’t supposed to, we did,” he says. “It was used more as a threat. You give them a little tap every now and then. Nothing serious.”
But the teachers at Central Andros leave corporal punishment to designated administrators, chiefly the principal, Ms. Forbes.
“You’ll find they have a deep respect and love for her,” he says. “She’s exuberant.”
Mr. Nichols looks toward James, who is still copying from the board.
“Sometimes he seems like he wants to be by himself,” Mr. Nichols says. “He’s the kind of student I can work with.”
Mr. Nichols admits that trouble with reading is a problem a lot of students face, and even though they might not be able to read, he says students are passed to the next grade.
“It is a social promotion. It’s something that’s peculiar to schools here. It happens up to a point.”
The leader of the pack
The principal’s office is in the administrative building at the front of the school. Ms. Forbes sits at a desk in the corner of the room surrounded by all the familiarities of an office.
Papers in neat piles cover the desk, upon which sits a portable CD player and a digital clock. The computer is across from her desk, below a hanging mirror. Three rusting file cabinets rest against the far wall and on a small refrigerator sits a microwave, where Ms. Forbes’ tea chills from the morning.
She is an elevated young principal with warm features, her black hair in a tight, neat bun. Ms. Forbes opens her mail and continues to thumb through papers as she talks about her past. Originally from Grand Bahama, she was educated at the College of the Bahamas and spent 10 years teaching in New Providence and Freeport before moving to Lovehill. Now in her second year at Central Andros, she oversees 26 teachers and 274 students, who come from 11 settlements on Andros. Many teachers will attest to the improvement of discipline, academics and student morale since Ms. Forbes moved in.
“It’s just a matter of appeal to the kids’ senses,” she says. “The success of it has to do with the students taking your word—believing that I want what’s best for them.”
A girl comes into Ms. Forbes office looking disheveled. Ms. Forbes brings the girl close to her. Still sitting in her chair, she turns toward the girl.
“Presentation is everything,” Ms. Forbes says in the maternal but firm tone she uses with her students. “Do you cook?”
Ms. Forbes creates a metaphor for presentation out of cooking, saying food that looks nice is much more appetizing than a meal that was just thrown together. She offers suggestions on how the young girl might clean up her appearance. Ms. Forbes is refined, soft-spoken—almost soothing.
“Beauty from the inside out,” Ms. Forbes reminds the girl before sending her out of the office.
Before turning to other business, Ms. Forbes talks briefly about James.
“James is somewhat of a sickly child, so I think that has affected his schoolwork a whole lot,” she says, adding that James missed some school last year because he was in the hospital. “James is definitely what we would call a slow learner.”
But, she says, he has a great personality.
Before excusing herself from the room, she says, “He could probably go into bone fishing.”
The search for the source
In another town north of Lovehill, Stafford Creek Primary School prepares most of its graduates for Central Andros. It sits on two-and-a-half acres of land and resembles the high school, with its beige exterior and green trim.
A contemplative man with gray curly hair, Principal Richard Deal keeps a long wispy mustache and small goatee under his lip. He is much lighter than most Bahamians. Mr. Deal runs a small ship, with 24 students in grades one through six. Each teacher instructs two grade levels in the classroom, and they cover all subjects including religion, Physical Education and Spanish, depending on the availability of teachers.
Students also participate in gardening, track-and-field, and computer and recycling programs. But Mr. Deal seems most proud of the school’s library. He says Ms. Rose Blanchard from the U.S. put libraries in all the primary schools on Andros—Stafford Creek has close to 7,000 books.
“All these books came free of charge on the plane from Ohio,” he says.
Ms. Jasione Davis teaches 10 students in grades one and two. The students, dressed in the school’s red and white uniforms, migrate from one side of the portable class divider to the other.
“Here you are exposed to multi-grade teaching,” she says. “What you miss in the first grade, you can get in the second. (The students) help each other.”
Born and educated in Guyana, Ms. Davis has taught at Stafford Creek for a year. She says she filled out a public service form to apply for a teaching job in the Bahamas because the pay is greater and she thought it would be a good experience.
“Not many Bahamians are taking up teaching,” Ms. Davis says.
She says Bahamians are more interested in other industries, such as tourism—especially the men.
In grades three and four, Ms. Vyreen Baine sits at the front of the classroom, directly in front of the divider, one class on her left and one on her right. The walls are decorated with the school motto: Striving for Excellence, and the theme: Ministry of Education transforming teaching and learning in the 21st century. The students follow along in a reader, as a boy stands, leaning against the blackboard and reading aloud from a children’s tale called “Ananse’s Feast.”
At noon, it is time for lunch, and Ms. Baine ends class with, “Hands together. Eyes are closed.” The students recite a version of “God is great, God is good…”
The kids hurry outside, where they eat and play between the school and a clinic next door. Mr. Deal says a doctor and nurse team travel to different settlements on the island, visiting the primary school every Tuesday until 12 p.m. He also says the P.E. teacher travels from settlement to settlement, usually on Mondays, but they are waiting for someone to take that position.
Most teachers at the primary school are from the Bahamas, but as a whole, Mr. Deal says, “they’re lacking quite a bit of Bahamian teachers in the system, you see. The pay is not too attractive.”
The Ministry of Education requires a four-year degree plus a teaching certificate, but Mr. Deal says that if a Bahamian goes to college for a teaching degree, the government pays them $550 a month while they are in school. Teachers come from different parts of the Caribbean, Costa Rica and Nicaragua to teach in the Bahamas. He says the ratio is 7-to-1 for ex-pats to Bahamians and that most teachers are women.
“It is more of a feminine ministry now because males want to make more than the women.
“Teachers come from different cultures: You have a melting pot of cultures in the Bahamas. We need more Bahamians to keep our culture, you see. (The teachers) use the Bahamas as a stepping stone to America and Canada.”
Mr. Deal was born on Long Island, Bahamas and started teaching in Abaco in 1982. He says when he came to Stafford Creek in 1995, there were 94 students and three teachers, but the population of Andros has decreased in the past 10 years. In addition to being principal, he teaches fifth and sixth grades.
Globes made from plastic cups hang from the ceiling fan in Mr. Deal’s classroom. Bookshelves hold math and science books, which are provided by the Bahamian government and updated every three years. Language arts books called “Preserving Our Heritage” and “Primary Social Studies and Tourism Education for the Bahamas” also lie in stacks. Mr. Deal picks up a notepad off his desk and points with a long fingernail at the numbers. He says 21 out of the 24 students are on the lunch program, and he tracks attendance so that the lady who provides the lunches gets paid in Fresh Creek. It costs 3.50 in Bahamian dollars, which are worth the same as U.S. dollars, for each student per month.
As the kids pack up for the end of the day, Mr. Deal says, “Let’s say our prayers so we can leave please.”
“It’s compulsory that students take religious studies because there is a Christianity focus,” he says. “We have prayer in the school. We have two exams set on religion, you see.”
A corporal education
Outside Ms. Forbes’ office and down a short hall is the administrative lobby with a black leather couch and a wall case of school trophies: National Arts Festival 2001, Class ‘75 Rake and Scrape, Math House Bowl, Best Music Jukanoo Parade, and an armful of track-and-fields. The open door exposes the room to the stillness outside from which permeates the tropical Bahamian air.
Ms. Forbes enters her office with two boys, shutting the door behind her. At Central Andros, corporal punishment is used as a disciplinary method, depending on the offense. The stick she uses is wrapped in duct tape and rests in the corner behind her desk.
From Ms. Forbes’ office comes the muffled sound of five methodical raps on the boy’s hip.
With a slight limp and a nervous grin, the boy walks through the lobby and out the open door back to class. Ms. Forbes comes trailing after, the stick swinging carelessly in her left hand as she pauses before stepping out the door.
“Another cultural difference,” she says.
Admission and acceptance
Reginald Smith, a student in James’ class, says it was the first time he was beaten since he came to the school a year ago. The crime: Making sexual jokes.
James remembers getting beaten for writing a curse word on an assignment.
“We get beaten. We get suspended. It’s not like in the states,” James says.
The lunch bell rings and the lawns of Central Andros High School buzz with students. They run to one of the four shacks set up by local families to feed the students. A variety of food is provided, including chicken and ribs prepared according to the cook. There are also snacks and sodas. The turkey vultures loom nearby, waiting for the end of lunch.
James walks around during lunch, chatting with the teachers and rarely sticking to one group of friends.
“Ain’t nobody dumb right, in the class,” he says. If ‘dey want to, ‘dey could learn.”
James says he’s behind in class because he was in and out of the hospital in Nassau last year.
“Nassau is a big city. It has red lights and all dose different things like da U.S…
“I can read well, right,” James jokes: “Da problem is I can’t see.”
When he grows up, James says he wants to be a Royal Bahamian Defense Force Officer.
“You on da sea. Dere be all types of drugs and you can take ‘em and destroy ‘em, or you take take ‘em and make money off dem,” James says. “But I not like that. I take dem and destroy dem.”
Right now, James’ mom, Joanne Mackey, probably has a pot of pigeons boiling on the stove, waiting for her two sons to come home in a couple hours. Mrs. Mackey has sectioned braids in her short hair and has a small build. She has eight kids.
For her two boys left at home, she says she has to worry about buying national insurance through the Bahamian government, which pays for the students’ healthcare. This has been a big help with two sickly boys. Perez, James’ younger brother, has Sickle cell. James has kidney problems as well as a heart condition. Last year, when Mrs. Mackey spent a month in and out of the hospital with James, she says she was afraid he wouldn’t survive.
When the bell rings again, the students know break is over and the end of the day is near. Mr. Edward Rolle, the senior master, steps out the door of his office. A firm man with a warm smile, Mr. Rolle is mainly in charge of discipline, but also considers himself the handyman.He’s been at Central Andros for 12 years, was first a Spanish teacher, then a music teacher and still teaches sometimes. He’s from Nassau, but says he considers himself Androsian.
Mr. Rolle says ever since last year, when Ms. Forbes moved in, violence in the school has practically vanished. He also credits her with bringing back school spirit. But there are still literacy problems, which he says are largely out of teachers’ hands.
“We find it easy to stream the kids homogenously. The ones who can manage, we push them further,” he says.
As in any educational setting, Mr. Rolle says family life plays a huge role. There are kids who don’t even see their parents, while there are a few parents who will check their students’ workbooks.
As far as resources, there just aren’t enough.
“In terms of infrastructure, you have a challenge to man every island. It’s a serious challenge,” he says. “The islands are so spread out. It’s hard to amalgamate small schools.”
And also, “The problem is the communities might not want it. Each school has their own community, so you would be taking the school away from the community.”
Another problem is compensation.
“A teacher has to qualify themselves so much,” he says. “As a male, I think it has to do with salary.”
Mr. Rolle says the Bahamian Government is reviewing the salary issue. But, he says until officials make it attractive enough, Bahamians will go into less rigorous, quickly gratifying jobs, such as tourism.
Outside Mr. Rolle’s office is the assembly area, with a makeshift stage. The area is empty, except for Shaniqua Roberts who is carrying a clipboard, a student set apart by her green and white striped shirt. The 12th-grader is a prefect, whose job is to be a role model for the students. Her position is obtained based on GPA and good behavior.
“We have to follow the school rules as leaders in the school,” she says.
She says James is a good leader.
Shaniqua giggles as she continues walking past the stage, upon which are leftover Styrofoam food boxes from lunch and a vulture, hopping clumsily as it tries in vain to open a container with its gnarled, warted beak.
Pushing ahead
James’ last period of the day is science with Ms. Dianne Brown, who is going over a written test the students just took about acid and base pH testing with litmus paper.
“…Lye, like your hair dye,” she says.
“What color is bleach?”
“Pink. Red,” the students call out. “Blue!”
Ms. Brown turns to the board, raising an eyebrow and concealing a grin, “I think somebody is in love with blue.”
The stream two kids write in their notebooks as Ms. Brown writes the answers on the board. The same few boys who misbehave every class period sit together, but James sits on the opposite side of the room away from the noise.
After class, Ms. Brown pulls James aside.
“You weren’t doin’ anything today,” she says. “So you learned everything now?”
“Yes ma’am,” he says
Ms. Brown dismisses James, who runs to catch his bus.
Browsing through the tests, Ms. Brown leans against her open door and talks in general about streams and the students who aren’t in stream one. She says it’s hard to teach the students when they lack the fundamental skills to continue learning.
“Everybody else have reading problems. Everybody else can’t read basically,” she says.
“See this answer?”
She holds up the test.
“I do not know,” it reads.
“It’s not that they don’t know the answer,” she says. “It’s that they can’t read the question.”
James Clarke, a 14-year-old Andros native, departs for school.