Pre-Ramadan Parades and PR

I showed up expecting to teach Monday morning and made it halfway to my first class before a counterpart politely mentioned that students were busily engaged in “class meetings.” “How long will the class meeting last?” I asked. “Until Saturday,” she replied. “Class meeting” sounded productive, but over the next few days, I slowly realized the term is just a formal facade for “fun and games”: specifically volleyball, futsal, ping pong, and cooking competitions all organized to celebrate the approach of the Islamic fasting month, Ramadan, and perhaps, more importantly, promote some positive PR for a madrasah looking to increase enrollment.

The pageantry of the weeklong competitions and Saturday’s culminating, district-wide parade provided an opportunity for my school to strut its stuff before the community. American students are tracked to attend particular high schools based on proximity. Undesirable districting forces parents to either put up (go private) or shut up (accept the circumstances). However, Indonesia seems entirely committed to a charter model, forcing schools to compete against one another for students and funding. As a result, my school’s pre-Ramadan festivities were about more than just having fun; they also facilitated some serious PR maneuvering. By cancelling classes itself, I assume the madrasah earned significant cool points with local students, many of whom didn’t get holidays at their own schools. In addition, though, parents were invited to a free luncheon on Thursday where they heard about the school’s recent renovations and plans to build new classrooms. And for those people who didn’t get the “we’re awesome” memo firsthand, the teachers tasked me with taking pictures of all the events, so they can be printed onto banners overlooking the main road.

Moreover, Saturday’s district parade was icing on an already successful week. Wearing my new kopia and kokok (traditional Javanese Islamic dress), I left the house around 5:30 and grabbed a bus heading into town. Then, some students, also passengers, told me to get off with them and walk through some back alleys to the home of one of my counterpart’s parents where the school drum band—horribly under-resourced, right?—was meeting for makeup and costume fitting. Then, after forty-five minutes, we left together for the parade field where about 2,000 local elementary, middle, and high school students stood gathering before the march. Some schools brought trucks to carry amps and small, five person bands. And just about everyone was holding some sort of colorful prop or sign. However, no other school had a full drum band complemented by baton twirlers much less a towering 5’11”, white foreigner. So at the end of the day, my madrasah both won the parade’s 1st place spirit prize and probably cemented a pretty strong impression on anyone who bothered to watch.



I’m still not sure why my school seems better resourced than others. My homestay cousin who graduated several years ago says the school used to support just two classes per grade level. Now, though, grades X, XI, and XII support 5, 4, and 3 classes respectively, a trend suggesting that next year’s class X may be even bigger. And because Javanese children aren’t becoming more numerous under Indonesia’s two-child and relocation policies, I assume the growth trend is connected to changes in the school’s perceived quality. But I only know a little about what’s happened at my school over the past few years. I do know that a local farmer recently donated land that was developed into new classroom. However, I’m at a loss to explain why we have a paved parade space, futsal goals, Wi-Fi, and a new breezeway while other schools—from what I’ve seen so far—are limited to dirt fields and generally much less impressive appearances.

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Overall, this week might’ve marked the turning point where I’m really starting to enjoy my new job despite the fact that “teaching” aspect never really happened. Between refereeing futsal games, losing in ping pong, and deciding to observe Ramadan, the Bule-Indo divide narrowed just a bit, and I feel noticeably more at home in the community than I did just six weeks ago. In addition, though, I’ve also learned a bit more about how Indonesian school’s work—the basic charter concept, my madrasah’s trending prospects, and how my school compares to the local standard. In hindsight I never envisioned myself working at a school providing facilities and amenities of this quality and probably would’ve preferred a simpler setting. However, after this week, I couldn’t care less. Worries about not feeling like a “legit PCV” have softened, and so long as I feel like a contributing member of my community, I'm sure all of my pre-service expectations can be met and exceeded.

This week provided a lot of great photos, but because the internet café is a bit slow--20 minutes per upload, I’m limited to just a few for now. These four--there should be four--were taken at Saturday's parade: