Week 6: Time Keeps On Slipping
Sunday
After doing my laundry in the morning, I went out to Lopez in search of a photocopier, since I'd picked out a number of pages from the new books that I wanted students to fill out. As I was walking up to the bus stop, I passed by an old lady who muttered "gringa" at me as we passed - I don't know what that was about.
In Lopez, I eventually found a school supply store with an Internet cafe and photocopier attached, and spent the rest of the afternoon copying things and browsing the Net. It was kind of fun - the lady running the store is a teacher, and she wanted to make copies of the pages as well, so she could use them for her students. Of course I let her, and I'll have to be sure to go back there in the future, so she can have copies of more stuff.
When I came back to Salango, I found the house completely dark and the door locked. This isn't the first time this has happened, but usually Flor and family leave a key in easy reach. There was no key, however, and when there was no sign of them and the mosquitoes were getting bad, I took drastic measures. First, I put my purse and what else would fit through the bars on the front window. Then, through a ninja escapade involving some barrels, a board, and a sheet of tin, I was able to scramble over the backyard fence and climb in my bedroom window. When I told Vanesa and Denise about my adventure an hour or so later, they were much amused.
Monday onward
Well, the photocopied activities I tried to use didn't go so well. In the second grade, I tried one that showed a picture of a family with the words for the people in English, and told/showed the kids to write the Spanish words next to the English ones, and to color the picture when they were done, only to be told by the teacher that the kids can't write (funny, quite a few of them could copy stuff from the board in the past).
The more I think about it, the more I think it's really a mistake to have a full class period teaching a second language to kids who are only just learning their first language. It works on Sesame Street, yes, but they only do it for a minute or two at a time, with long sessions of other stuff teaching the first language in between. I'm not a Muppet, and changing topics like that isn't an option. It's very frustrating - for the next class with this grade, I went over the papers again, to see that either the teacher or the parents had filled out some of them. I understand wanting to help, and I know what I've been doing with Denise, but that's different - Denise can read and understand the concepts, and she takes the initiative. These kids can copy what I do without a problem, but when I try and get them to do something for themselves, to think, nada. The next time, I just had them copy English words with pictures.
It's even worse with the youngest grade, who aren't even learning to write yet. With them, I just show a picture and have them repeat the English words with me, first as a group and then bringing each student up individually. I've moved on from people to animals with them, and I've been making use of those little plastic farm animals I bought a while back. I do write the words on the board, in case the kids feel like trying to read, but the models are really popular - the kids crowd up to see them, and I've had to keep a few from trying to take them out of my pocket. It's more memorizing than actually learning, but at least it's something. Maybe the next volunteer, who has more resources to start with, will be able to do more for them than I can.
It's a lot easier with the older students. I've been teaching fruits and vegetables this week, and explaining things like Silent E in the process. They love the chance to draw and color, and they're much more active about asking questions and showing interest. I've had some fun conversations with a fifth-grade boy at recess: Spider-Man is very popular here, and he wanted to know the English names for some of the characters ('Green Goblin', for example, is 'Duende Verde' in Spanish), and for other superheroes.
When I say it's going well with fruits and vegetables, there's one exception. I always have the kids try to guess what I'm drawing before I write the names, and to see if any of them know the English words already (some do). Every time I've drawn an ear of corn, the kids have guessed "chocolate!". True, corn as I draw it does look a little like a cacao pod, but really, when I'm drawing rice and beans alongside it, why is it so hard to believe that it's corn?
Wednesday
There was a bit of excitement today while I was teaching the seventh grade. The kids were rowdier than usual, and at one point, two boys actually got into a full-out fight in the middle of class. While I did my best to separate them, others ran to get Gaston, who arrived and called them out for a talk. When they returned, he gave a speech about respect for each other and for your teacher - the teachers give these speeches frequently, and I can't see that they make much difference.
My markers have run dry from all the drawing I've been doing, so after class, I made a quick jaunt to Lopez to buy some new ones, since I'd need them for the adult classes this afternoon. That turned out to be a non-issue: there was a big reunion of some kind at the community center, so it was jam-packed, and we couldn't use the board. I told those few who were still there that we'd try again tomorrow.
Thursday onward
Well, Thursday marks a new first for me - I made a student cry.
It happened in the sixth grade. One girl had stood up on her desk to look out the window (a bad idea in and of itself, but that isn't the issue here), and the girl behind her had her foot on the desk, tipping it backward sharply. The floors here are solid concrete, and falling sideways from 3+ feet up is an excellent way to break something. More scared than anything, I dashed over and snapped at the second girl to stop: the other girl could fall, did she want to hurt her?
Normally I'd have left it at that and all would have been well, except that the girl just laughed at me. Angry, I grabbed her by the forearm to get her attention and repeated the warning. I went back to my desk, while she cringed and sobbed quietly. I did feel bad about that, but this is a serious matter - if this will make her remember to think before she does something that might hurt someone, it will be for the best. The other students didn't seem bothered, and when the homeroom teacher came back, I was honest about what happened - he was okay with it. This is another one of those things that make me shudder to think of the reaction in the US, but that you can get away with here; I've seen other teachers react worse to lesser offenses (when that happens, I usually try to soften things a little).
I went to the community center again, only to find it locked and deserted. I waited outside for a while, watching the chickens, and soon the director came and let me in, but I waited for an hour and a half and nobody showed up (Me, mournful: "I am not popular".)
I think I'm in a bit of a depressive episode. I haven't been sleeping well this week - I have nightmares almost every night (this might be a side effect of the Malarone). They're always about one of two things. I'm heading home from this trip, or I've just gotten home, and I get there to find that something horrible has happened while I was gone - a friend or family member is dead, usually - and nobody told me about it because they didn't want it to affect my work. Or, I'm back at college in the dark of winter, and I realize that I've forgotten to hand in a big paper for a class that I'd forgotten I was even supposed to be taking (Soil dynamics? Anglo-Saxon literature?). It isn't even the consequences of that I wake up terrified of - it's the forgetting itself, and what the failure says about me as a person. I've been going through cycles of depression for the last few years, with the worst yet hitting me this fall, and as I near the time when I go back, I keep remembering and associating.
I went on this venture largely because I wanted to do something worthwhile with my life - to help people, to give something back to the world (I realize that I was born into a fortunate position, and I feel very guilty about it), and to have something to measure myself by besides grades. But if I can't even do that, then what good am I?
