Public versus Private

I’m getting a lot of offers to teach over the summer.

In Albania, it’s common for students to have tutors or to go to private language classes during the school year and during breaks. Teachers frequently give tutoring sessions right after class, in their homes. Part of the reason the Ministry of Education mandated a seventh educational hour was to cut down on the amount of teachers offering private tutoring sessions for a service that they should be providing in school. Although it is a requirement, I know that schools don’t do it.

Private language lessons are very, very expensive for the average Albanian. Private schools, or at least some of them that I’ve seen, have a tendency to hire the minimum amount of teachers so that profit is maximized, which is negative because it effects the quality of the lesson the teacher can give if they are overworked. Prepping a couple hours of language lessons is work. Usually for each hour I teach, I spend at least a half hour to an hour planning the session. So you can imagine if you are teaching several hours a day as a non-native speaker that quality comes into the picture. Albanian parents want their children to learn a foreign language, usually English. They know that a foreign language is what their children will need to be successful, and their idea of success is often living abroad. So they make tremendous sacrifices for their children.

I have a strict view that I am here for the public in general and that most of my work should be at my school and in my community. Private schools are strictly for money and they ask volunteers to help. I have no problem helping every once in a while, but it’s not where I want to put my time and effort into. They have the money to hire qualified staff and they have a lot more resources. The need is in the smaller community with people who might not be able to afford it. And being a native speaker is something so valuable that most private language schools can’t even offer it. I know that working with small groups of gifted students doesn’t impact a large number of people, but I know that the few it affects are significantly affected. And it’s not just a financial thing, although that figures into it. I’m happy and proud to provide a service that some students wouldn’t ever be able to afford.

I’ve had offers to work for money, but I’ve never been tempted. I’ve had people tell me that I’d make a great teacher in Tirana and they knew a person who owned a school. I’ve had someone suggest to me that I should charge for the lessons that I do at my home and I was offended. To me, I am a volunteer placed in my community to serve it. I felt proud one day last week, at the conclusion of a lesson with a new beginner student, to tell him that the lessons didn’t cost anything when he asked me. I told him I’m here for my school and community and that the lessons are free. He smiled and looked surprised.

But think about what we provide: native English speakers with American methods and Albanian speaking ability. That’s quite a profitable mix. We live in a country that runs on bribes and corruption – I’ve seen bus drivers paying cops and I’ve heard of having to pay to get a job and sometimes paying annually to keep it. It’s a real have-to-know someone society where favors and connections make or break you. It’s no different than any other place in the world in that respect, it’s just more obvious. I’ve heard of other volunteers accepting money for their services, which is offensive and completely unethical. Peace Corps gives us a reasonable living wage and pays for our housing… which is more than enough money to live on. One major goal of service is to live like a normal person in your host country, and accepting money for services rendered when you’re already given a living stipend makes this goal unreachable.

I recently had someone tell me that our work here doesn’t serve a purpose. The Albanian mentality is a hard one to break, indeed. But I think that if volunteers really felt that our work was meaningless, we would have gone home already. Surely there would be more important things to do with our generally young lives than spending them volunteering in a country that didn’t need or want us. But we haven’t done that. We’re here. And we’ve stayed. Maybe it’s an act of self-delusion. Maybe what I’m doing here doesn’t have the impact that I’d like it to. But in the end, as I felt my face flush, I explained that I can only do my best. I can work with the students and try to motivate them. My interactions on a personal level have meaning. I think the normal Peace Corps experience isn’t going to be about constructing new bridges or building libraries, it’s about the individual. It’s about the way we interact with each other and the way we share information and have experiences. Those memories will last long after we’re gone, even if my students forget present perfect after I leave.