Everywhere you walk or drive in Cuba you see school kids. Whether they’re walking hand-in-hand with a grandparent or with a group of other kids, they’re always dressed in clean uniforms: maroon and white for elementary school pupils, ochre and white for secondary students.
In the countryside, there are no school buses in the North American sense. School kids have to find another way to school. On my travels I’ve seen 6-year-olds riding on the back of their father’s bike or sitting in a horse-drawn cart, being brought out to the highway. Once there, they are eventually picked up by one of the trucks or tractor-drawn wagons that take country kids to school every day. So, if you’re driving along Cuban highways, you’ll often see 20 school kids standing in the back of a dump truck or wagon, their little hands holding on to the rim, their eyes peeking over their hands. But even then they’re dressed in crisp, clean uniforms in the regulation colours.
Schools in Cuba don’t always look like the ones we’re familiar with either. They aren’t surrounded by lawns and playgrounds unless they’re located in a public park (which some are). In fact, elementary schools often consist of just a few classrooms on the ground floor of an apartment building. While walking down the main shopping street in Havana once, I happened to peer into the narrow open window of an apartment house, only to find 30+ pairs of young eyes staring back at me. The teacher ignored me. The little girls above go to a school that’s on a major boulevard in Havana. They normally have recess on the boulevard “island” in front of their school until it’s time to go in for the next lesson. Despite a bit of friendly shoving, they seem to be enjoying their environment.
Once in the classroom, Cuban kids are lively participants in discussions, unafraid to speak their mind. If you don’t believe me, try to see the Cuban film Conducta, which is about a disadvantaged boy, his classmates and his retirement-aged teacher who goes to a lot of trouble on his behalf.
But not all Cuban kids are disadvantaged. These two 12-year-old pupils let me take their picture at an English teachers’ conference, where their teacher had them perform an English dialogue in front of a roomful of teachers. When I talked to them alone afterwards they were shy, but happy to try to answer my questions.