First day of Observations: Les Cracks!

I love that high school students are high school students no matter where I go.

Today, I had the joy and privilege of being invited into Les Cracks, a private school here in Louga. I got to meet the teachers and principal, learn about the school, observe classes, talk with students, and just see what going to school in Senegal is really like.

Every student was in uniform, and when they saw us arrive, they lit up with laughter, jokes, and wide-eyed curiosity—exactly the way students do back home when something out of the ordinary happens. It was such a good reminder that teenagers around the world aren’t all that different.

Les Cracks is actually located in a refurbished apartment building, which I found fascinating. It serves about 600 students, both boys and girls, between the ages of 14 and 20. Students are placed in one of two academic tracks: literature or science. In their senior year, they may also have the option to explore philosophy—fitting, since the principal himself is a philosophy teacher!

Across the street, I could see other schools, students walking, catching minibuses, or zooming by on bikes and motorcycles.

Inside the classrooms? Chalkboards. Each room was about 300 square feet with 40–60 students packed inside—no room to walk between desks. And yet, the energy was incredible. I saw students doing call-and-response activities, physical movement, group work, solo assignments, fill-in-the-blank practice, and even music-based learning. I couldn’t believe how engaged and focused they were, especially given how tight the space was.

No one had phones out. No one talked back. Even in a room where there was no teacher present, the students were quietly working together and playing learning games.

Their day runs from 8 AM to 3 PM, with a lunch and prayer break in the middle—no cafeteria and no fans or AC, in 107°F heat. The level of discipline and dedication was truly impressive.

Every student does the same work, in the same way. There’s no differentiation or accommodations for students with special needs—something that really gave me pause. Blind, deaf, or neurodivergent students are expected to learn alongside everyone else, without modifications.

Their final year is high-stakes. Students take a national exam at the end of high school, and if they fail, they cannot attend college. There are also national exams at the end of elementary and middle school.

When we asked the principal about the biggest challenges the school faces, he named two things I saw firsthand: overcrowding and limited space (they’re working on building a new facility).

I also asked about problems I often see in my own classroom, like attendance and fights. The principal told me they rarely have either. If there is a behavior issue, the steps are:

1. Speak to the student.

2. Have the student write a letter to their parents.

3. If the issue continues, the student is removed.

He explained that because this is a private school that many families aspire to send their children to, misbehavior is seen as dishonorable to the family. And here’s something else that surprised me: teachers and administrators never speak to parents. The responsibility is on the students to report home if there’s an issue.

The school’s motto? “Discipline is our creed. Excellence is our passion.”

As for technology—so far, there’s not much. One teacher had a Bluetooth speaker for music. The students used their phones for a Kahoot activity, and we donated a projector. That was it. I did meet one student who told me she wants to become a computer scientist, which made me smile.

The building was simple and functional. The only decorations on the walls were school rules. At the end of the day, the heat had caught up to even the students, who were wilting in their seats. And yet, they stayed focused.

For my first experience inside a Senegalese school, I learned so much. I’ve taken some 360° videos and photos I can’t wait to share. Wi-Fi is still tricky, so I may post a full album and video recap once I’m back in Dakar—or maybe even when I get home to Maine.