Hungry (f)or Hebrew

Today was the first time I stood before a class of Abayudaya children alone.  Not merely lacking people, but preparation or any real idea of what the kids should be learning.  I had gone again with my Israeli friend, and we had expected to teach one class--but it turned out that, due to some rescheduling, two classes had Hebrew slots at the same time and were both lacking instructors.  So I said goodbye to my friend, and made my way to P7, the oldest grade of primary school students (who I had, in fact, encountered the day before).
Trying to follow the guide of "relevance to the service and the Torah"--Principal Aaron's sole piece of advice going in--I decided to discuss vocabulary of Shabbat.  I asked the students what they do in preparation for Shabbat and on Shabbat, and their answers guided our new vocabulary (with occasionally subtle prodding along the way).   We learned Shabbat-specific terms like hadlakat neirot (lighting of the candles) and kriyat hatorah (reading of the Torah) as well as words that had broader relevance, but which had special resonance for the students in connection with Shabbat, like kevisah  (laundry) and bishul (cooking).
I'll admit--these are terms I'm sure were drilled into my 5 year old head, with pages of colored paper covered in our horrible depictions of a Torah and candles serving as visual aids and tangible proof of our studies for the parents.  They were terms that I was sure, Shabbat being as important as it is in the community, the students would know, but many were either foreign or known only as words, whose meanings were never learned.  This did not apply to everything however--when I asked them about the prayer service on Friday night, they all readily named Kabbalat Shabbat and could even translate it for me.  They also mentioned kiddush, chalah and many of the kabbalat shabbat prayers, including Lugandan prayers which I'm itching to have them teach me (though I'm sure I'll hear them tomorrow night!)
In talking with my friend, she mentioned how she thought it must be possible to have someone sponsor a teacher for a year, one who could actually come and teach Hebrew to the children and community members.  (Even Aaron knows little, and he teaches the Hebrew class when there are no volunteers.)  But my first reaction was--is that really the most important thing?  Especially in this part of the world, funding for Hebrew lessons when basic needs are often left unmet seems to make little sense.
Yet at home, funding for religious education and endeavors are often ranked as the highest priorities, despite the presence of poverty both domestically and abroad.  I am in no way discrediting this practice (here or at home), and realize its importance and value, but it is certainly an issue worth thinking about and with which my current experience constantly challenges me.