🎥 Video's : Explore the World of Senegal

ⒹⒶⓎ ① ⒾⓃ ⓈⒺⓃⒺⒼⒶⓁ: ⓁⒺⓉ’Ⓢ ⒼⓄ!

🌍 Touchdown in Dakar!

Y’all—I made it! I’m in Senegal, West Africa with 20 other incredible educators from across the U.S., and this is more than just a trip—it’s a mission. We’re here through the Fulbright Teacher for Global Classrooms program to learn, teach, and build connections with schools around the world.

As soon as we landed, we were wrapped in teranga—that’s the Senegalese word for hospitality, and trust me, they live it. We checked into the beautiful Azalaï Hotel, named after President Macky Sall, and were welcomed with music, culture, and some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We sipped on attaya (Senegalese mint tea), learned greetings in Wolof, and had dinner surrounded by views of the ocean and vibrant traditions. This country is full of pride, power, and beauty—and it’s changing me already.

🏛️ Our Visit to the U.S. Embassy

Now THIS part made me pause. We visited the U.S. Embassy in Dakar, where we met with leaders who are working to make schools better all across Senegal. They shared how important education is to the future of this country—and how the U.S. and Senegal are working together to help students grow.

I sat there thinking: I’m a Black girl from D.C., now sitting in international spaces, learning how to build a global classroom. Wow. They talked about challenges like school supplies and teacher training, but they also talked about hope. About possibility. About how young people (like the students I teach!) are the key to changing the world.

🍵 Sipping Culture: My First Taste of Attaya

This picture means more than just tea—this is me experiencing one of Senegal’s most loved traditions: attaya, a strong, sweet, minty tea served in three rounds. But it’s not just about sipping—it’s about slowing down, sharing stories, and connecting with people around you.

The process is a whole vibe. The tea is brewed, poured high to create foam (yes, it’s a skill!), and served in tiny glasses. Each round gets a little sweeter, just like the conversation. It’s how Senegalese people bond with friends, welcome guests, and show respect.

So here I am, learning the rhythm of hospitality one glass at a time. And trust me—attaya isn’t just a drink, it’s a moment. 💫

📸 When They Thought I Was Famous 😎🎤

Okay, story time—this moment right here was hilarious! While exploring in Dakar, people kept stopping me, asking for pictures, smiling wide, and speaking in Wolof. I couldn’t understand everything (yet!), but I was catching vibes!

One group literally thought I was a Senegalese singer or celebrity 😭 I was flattered, confused, and laughing all at once. I had to pull out Google Translate just to say, “I’m a teacher!” But they didn’t care—they saw the confidence, the joy, the energy… and honestly, that’s the magic of this place. Even without words, connection finds a way.

💼 Luggage on the Roof?! Senegal Said—Let’s Roll!

Okay, so picture this: I step outside, look at our transport van, and BAM—all of our suitcases are strapped to the roof like Tetris with duffel bags. I had to pause like, “Is this real?!” Yes. Yes, it is. And guess what? It works.

This might be totally different from how we travel in the States, but here in Senegal, this is normal, practical, and efficient. There’s a certain beauty in how things get done without all the extra. No fancy luggage carts, no endless bellhops—just teamwork, rope, and someone with serious stacking skills.

It reminded me that just because something looks different doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It’s just a different kind of right. Senegal is teaching me to let go of “the usual” and embrace what works—period.

🎥 Rolling into the Day with Purpose

Day 2 & 3: kicked off not with a whisper—but with movement. As we climbed into our van, the luggage loaded up top, our hearts were already full of anticipation. The voices in the background, the brightness of the morning sun, and the quiet buzz of the city all signaled one thing: we were headed somewhere that would teach us something new.

No fancy bells or whistles—just a group of educators, a packed schedule, and a shared mission to grow. Watch us roll out… Senegal style.

Day 2 & 3: Fitting In—Literally! A Trip to the Tailor in Kaolack

One of the most exciting parts of our arrival in Kaolack? Getting custom-made outfits from a local tailor! Our incredible host, Aly, took us through the winding streets to a neighborhood shop where fabric lined the walls and creativity filled the air.

We laughed, picked vibrant prints, and got measured for looks that’ll help us truly step into Senegalese style. This wasn’t just about clothes—it was about culture, respect, and becoming part of the community in a way that feels deeply personal. Outfits coming soon... and trust, we’re gonna look GOOD doing this work! 💃🏾✨

When in Kaolack… you get measured for custom fits! 🧵✨ Big thanks to our host Aly for taking us straight to the tailor. Can’t wait to see these looks come to life

After settling into Kaolack, our amazing host Aly wasted no time helping us feel at home—and in style! He took us straight to a local tailor, where we were welcomed like family. From selecting bright, bold fabrics to getting fitted for custom outfits, it was a beautiful way to experience Senegalese culture firsthand.

In Kaolack, access to clean water isn’t something you take for granted—it’s something you work around. While staying in the community, we were introduced to bagged water, a local solution used in many areas where clean tap water is limited or unavailable. These small plastic bags, often sold on the street, offer a quick and affordable way to stay hydrated. But behind the simplicity lies a deeper story—water scarcity and the daily realities many families face when infrastructure doesn’t reach them.

It’s a powerful reminder that clean water, something so basic to many of us, is still a challenge in parts of the world. And yet, the innovation, resilience, and community-driven solutions—like this—speak volumes about the strength of Kaolack’s people.

TEACH – A Smile That Reminded Me Why I’m Here

From the moment I stepped onto the campus of Lycée Valdiodio Ndiaye in Kaolack, something in me shifted. My heart didn’t just beat—it dropped. In the best, most humbling way. The kind of feeling you get when your soul is being realigned with your why.

This young man in the photo was the first student to welcome me. His eyes lit up with curiosity, and even though English is still new to him, his drive to connect, to grow, to learn was louder than any language barrier. Every day since, I find myself searching for him during breaks—just to check in, share a laugh, or exchange a few new words. But it’s more than that.

But what he doesn’t realize is this: I needed his energy more than he needed mine.In his smile, I saw hope. In his questions, I saw curiosity. And in his presence, I found a mirror—reflecting the educator, the dreamer, the purpose-filled woman I’ve always aspired to be.

So many of us forget our why—buried beneath to-do lists and tight deadlines. But here, in Kaolack, through a single student’s light, I remembered mine.

This is the heart of Fulbright. Not just teaching lessons, but living them. Not just traveling across the world—but finding pieces of yourself in the most unexpected places.

What Fulbright has reminded me—especially here at Lycée Valdiodio Ndiaye—is that teaching is never just about content. It’s about presence. It’s about being there for the quiet students. The observant ones. The ones who carry stories in their eyes.

And as I sat next to this student, I realized I wasn’t just here to support his learning—he was teaching me something too. About patience. About paying attention. About the power of just being still and being seen.

We often chase big “aha!” moments in education. But sometimes, the most profound teaching happens in these small, sacred pauses. And this was one of them.

TEACH – Learning With Less, Dreaming for More

Walking through the classrooms of Lycée Valdiodio Ndiaye, one thing becomes immediately clear—resources are limited, but passion is not. Desks may be worn, supplies may be few, but the hunger to learn is loud, undeniable, and alive in every single student.

The education system in Kaolack faces real challenges—large class sizes, minimal materials, and limited access to technology. And yet, these students show up fully. Their curiosity is unshaken. Their focus, unbreakable. It’s a powerful reminder that innovation isn’t only born from abundance—it often rises from necessity.

My purpose here is to help reimagine what’s possible. I want to support teachers in seeing the beauty and power of STEAM education—not as something distant or complex, but as something they already hold the tools for: creativity, problem-solving, cultural connection. I’m focusing on helping educators differentiate instruction, meet students where they are, and honor the many ways students learn and shine.

Because even without fancy labs or digital whiteboards, there’s brilliance in these classrooms. And my goal is to help it rise, resource or not.

TEACH – Paper, Stickers & Wonder: When Learning Feels Like Magic

In this video, you’ll see students smiling, laughing, fully tuned in—and all because of something so simple: a paper fortune teller. To many students in the U.S., it’s a playground classic. But here in Kaolack, it was a brand-new experience—and it blew them away.

We introduced fortune tellers as a fun, hands-on activity to help students practice English vocabulary in a creative way. Each flap held a word, a color, a number—and a world of possibility. The classroom lit up with excitement. Students who were once quiet leaned in closer. They folded, guessed, read aloud, and shared. They didn’t just engage—they lit up.

And the moment we brought out scratch-and-sniff stickers as little rewards? The classroom exploded with joy. Something so small, something many kids back home might not even blink at, felt magical to these students. They smelled every sticker like it was a treasure. Because to them—it was.

We also took this opportunity to talk with teachers about how these kinds of low-cost, high-impact strategies could be used to support English learning. From vocabulary games to personalized goal setting, fortune tellers can be a gateway to student engagement, creativity, and connection.

It reminded me that teaching doesn’t have to be fancy—it has to be thoughtful. And sometimes, a piece of paper and a sticker can speak louder than a textbook ever could.

TEACH – Language, Equity & The Right to Understand

In this photo, we’re mid-conversation—me and a student working through words, meanings, and gestures to connect across a language barrier. It looks simple, but it holds so much more.

At Lycée Valdiodio Ndiaye, students are learning English as a second, sometimes third, language. But the challenge isn’t just learning a new language—it’s learning through it. English is tested, expected, and taught, but often without the necessary scaffolding, resources, or support these students need to truly thrive. And still—they show up. With curiosity. With drive. With grace.

This experience has made me reflect on our own systems back home. Under the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB), all students are expected to meet the same academic standards, regardless of language background. But what happens when language becomes a barrier, not because students are incapable—but because systems are inequipped? What happens when understanding isn’t accessible, but still required?

And here in Kaolack, it’s the same question in a different language: How can students meet expectations when instruction isn’t differentiated? How can we talk about excellence without ensuring access? What does equity look like when education is a universal right, but not a universal experience?

In classrooms with limited books, no visual aids, and one teacher for 40+ students, the right to understand becomes a right too easily overlooked. And yet, every student here deserves it.

My mission in Kaolack is to support teachers in seeing how STEAM strategies and differentiated instruction aren’t just buzzwords—they are tools for justice. Visuals, hands-on activities, translanguaging, and storytelling—these are the bridges that help students cross from confusion to confidence.

Because whether you're in Atlanta or Kaolack, language should never be the thing that holds a child back from their dreams.

TEACH – When Understanding Becomes a Privilege: A Deeper Look at Language, Policy & Power

The more time I spend in classrooms here in Kaolack, the more I see that language is not just a tool—it’s a gatekeeper. In Senegal, French is the official language of instruction, even though many students grow up speaking Wolof, Serer, or Pulaar at home. Then, by the time they reach secondary school, English is layered on top—another expectation added to an already complex linguistic journey.

Imagine being 15 years old, expected to read and write in a language your parents don’t speak, with no access to translators, multilingual texts, or individualized support. That’s the reality for many students in Senegal—and the truth is, it's not all that different from multilingual students in the U.S.

Back home, we have policies like No Child Left Behind, ESSA (Every Student Succeeds Act), and court decisions affirming that education is a constitutional right. But even with these, we still see multilingual learners disproportionately under-supported, underrepresented, and overlooked.

So I ask again:

• If education is a right, why does understanding feel like a privilege in so many places?

• If language is power, why are so many systems structured to withhold it from those who need it most?

• Why do we continue to test students on standards they were never given equitable access to learn?

Here in Kaolack, the Senegalese system functions with national exams that determine a child’s educational future, with little room for flexibility, little space for language support, and few resources to reach every learner. And yet—these students show up. They show up with notebooks worn thin, uniforms washed by hand, and hearts wide open to learn.

It’s not the students who are behind—it’s the systems that haven’t caught up.

That’s why my work here matters. That’s why differentiated instruction, culturally relevant pedagogy, and STEAM integration aren’t optional—they’re essential. Because when a child understands, they can rise. When a child sees themselves in the lesson, they engage. And when a child is met where they are, they begin to believe in where they can go.

As Fulbright educators, we’re not here to “fix”—we’re here to listen, to learn, and to offer what we can with humility and care. And what I’ve seen is that language access is one of the most radical forms of equity work we can do.

TEACH – Chalk Dust & Dreams: What a Classroom Can’t Always Show

I sat in the back of this classroom quietly, just observing. Chalk in hand, the teacher was doing their best—with what little they had. No projector. No markers. No anchor charts or visuals. Just a chalkboard and a voice carrying across a room of nearly 50 students, most of them sitting shoulder to shoulder, scribbling fast in well-worn notebooks.

And I couldn’t stop thinking: this feels familiar. Not because it looked like my classroom back home, but because I’ve seen this story before—different setting, same struggle.

The students were expected to grasp complex English vocabulary, yet many had no individualized support and limited exposure to the language outside of school. No language labs. No leveled readers. Just a system doing its best within the boundaries of what it’s been given.

This isn’t about blaming teachers. These educators are some of the most dedicated, brilliant, and resilient professionals I’ve ever met. This is about the systemic gaps—in funding, in training, in support—that mirror so much of what we see in under-resourced schools in the U.S.

It made me think about the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) and Title III of ESSA—laws meant to protect and uplift learners who need support in the U.S. And yet, even with these protections, students still fall through the cracks. So what happens in a place like this, where there are no legal mandates, and teachers rely more on passion than policy?

What happens when a student doesn’t get what they need—not because they’re not capable, but because the system never made room for their voice?

That’s what I’m here to wrestle with. That’s what this picture represents. A classroom full of brilliant minds waiting for someone to believe in their ability to learn differently.

As part of my Fulbright work, my focus is helping teachers see that STEAM education and differentiation aren’t luxuries—they are liberation tools. They allow students to access learning in the ways that reflect who they are, not just how they’re expected to be.

Because every student, whether in Kaolack or D.C., deserves more than chalk dust and hope.They deserve access.They deserve to understand.They deserve to be seen.

TEACH – The Heart of the Work

Every classroom I’ve stepped into here in Kaolack has reminded me of something simple, yet profound: education is universal—but access is not.

I’ve seen students eager to learn with little more than chalk, shared textbooks, and pure determination. I’ve met teachers pouring from empty cups, using their voices, their hands, and their hearts to keep their students dreaming. I’ve felt the pressure of language barriers that don't just slow learning—they sometimes silence it.

But I’ve also felt hope.

Hope in the student who welcomed me with wide eyes and fearless ambition.Hope in the hands-on laughter that came from a paper fortune teller.Hope in the scratch-and-sniff sticker that made a child feel like they mattered.Hope in the conversations with teachers who are ready—ready to try, to adapt, to believe that there’s more than one way to reach a child.

This is the heart of my Fulbright work. Not to impose—but to walk beside. To listen deeply, to share strategies that empower teachers to reach every learner, and to reignite the belief that STEAM education, culturally relevant teaching, and differentiation are not extras—they are essentials.

And truthfully? This experience didn’t just deepen my purpose. It recalibrated it.

Because somewhere between the chalkboard lessons, the language games, and the quiet conversations, I remembered the kind of educator I want to be. The kind who meets students in their fullness. The kind who sees past deficits and speaks to potential. The kind who never forgets that every child, everywhere, deserves the right to understand—and the power to rise.

This is what teaching looks like when it’s rooted in love.This is what global education should feel like.