Today after lun
ch I am scheduled to participàte in a futbol match. Six teachers (who rotate spots) against six students, all female (thank God). Some of you who know me may ask? WHY IN THE WORLD AM I ENTERING MYSELF IN A GAME THAT REQUIRES HAND-EYE COORDINATION AND A BALL? To fit in of course. Besides, I played real football with Kevin and his friends once, and there were boys in that match. I´m not SO challenged. Anyway, I want the teachers here in my high school to know that I am trying, that I do like them, that I want to integrate. My weekends are looking a bit dull (Dorita and abuelita can only entertain me so much), so I am making friends. I hear Chilean barbecues are "la raja," aka ragers. Maybe I will lead the teachers in a warm-up, oh the possibilities. 
Which reminds me, last night the English department held a "tecito," to welcome me to the staff. Every single teacher in the school sat around U-shaped tables, with Marcela and I at the head (quite embarrassing) and Silvana stood up and introduced me (for about the 8th time) and welcomed me. So ... of course, I started tearing up. I don´t know what´s wrong with me these days ... waterworks.
It´s just that, there was this big sign they had made that said "Welcome Teresa," and sandwiches and tea and coffee and terrible tasting cookies. I am discovering that in situations such as these, all the mastery I have gained of the Spanish language disappears in a very unkind way. I am speechless, literally. One on one I am decent; sitting at the head of a buffet table with 45 trained Chilean eyes fixed on me ... not so much.
However, in the classroom (thus far) I am a hit. I pretend not to speak Spanish and feel completely at ease among the rows of students, even the seniors. This week has been so much better because I am observing only the classes that I will be teaching and so I am meeting kids I will see every week for the next four months. When I introduce myself, I really introduce myself. "I am from the United States," I tell them, "I hope you´ve heard of it." I tell them that I´m a volunteer so I don´t get paid. I want to stress to them "I´m here because I want to be here, not because I have to be here." There are always a few girls who stare at me, smiles from ear to ear, eyes sparkling. The class never understands everything I say, but usually they can grasp bits. I get that. It´s exactly how I get by with my broken Spanish. I love these kids. Today in a freshman class, groups of girls kept begging me to listen to their favorite songs on their MP3´s and to dance. Of course I did both. "Do any of you girls like to dance?" I asked. They nodded their heads furiously. "Would you like to have dance classes after school once a week?" "SIIIIIII!!!!!" Alrighty then. Consider it done. They asked me if I had been a cheerleader. The unfortunate answer is yes. They seem excited. "You want to create a cheerleading team?" I ask. Again, "SIII!!!!"
This is too easy.
Brave, lone representatives from each class inevitably ask me, "How old are you?"
I make a lock-and-key motion across my lips. "I´ll never tell," I reply.
Right, like I´m gonna tell a bunch of 18-year-olds that they must do the assignment given by the 24-year-old teacher. One girl nails it on the first try. "I think you are 24," she says in Spanish. My blood pressure rises. I stick to the lock-and-key move. It´s working for now.
Last night I also met with the two English teachers from the two elementary schools, with whom I´ll be working once a week. They tell me that almost noone goes to college here. Today, a director at the school gave me a number. Maybe 20 out of 200 continue to college. They don´t have the money or they can´t pass the entrance exam. They usually go to technical schools, to be a secretary, learn a craft, etc.
The English teachers tell me about the Chilean education "problem." Students incessantly strike against teachers in Santiago, teachers strike with students against the government here. Students here are lazy, they tell me. They fail their tests and their parents don´t care. The parents are never home. The children do whatever they want and their parents buy them $200 cell phones. "But if the parents aren´t home, is this because they are working?" I ask. The difficult answer is yes. Lots of single mothers here. "But it is the same in the United States too," I tell them. "Just more segregated." This "problem" belongs to this entire city, dare I say country. In the U.S., it is easily ignored. The middle and upper classes can easily spend a life time without ever having a conversation with someone of a lower-socioeconomic class.
I´ve noticed a different tone in the grown-up conversations I´ve had here. The Chilean people see their situation as dire. They tell me they are very poor, with a very bad education system, but I cannot help but compare their conditions with those of Peruvians. Peru is by FAR the poorer country. The Peruvian economy is pitiful. Chileans seem to know they can do better. They demand more. Perhaps, the Peruvians are just more resigned to their conditions. Obviously I´ve only seen so much, met so many. This is just my assessment.
However, without a doubt, these people could use some help -- a fresh take on teaching English -- but they are on the right track. I was recruited by the Chilean Ministry of Education, that´s a start. Michelle Bachelet, their female president (hell yeah!!!) has done alot for this country. However, there is, without a doubt, extreme poverty in this city, but can´t that be found in almost every American city as well?
"Why did you choose Chile? Why did you want to leave the United States?" a 4th year asked me yesterday.
"To meet all of you of course," I replied.
I mean, I´m just glad to be here.
ch I am scheduled to participàte in a futbol match. Six teachers (who rotate spots) against six students, all female (thank God). Some of you who know me may ask? WHY IN THE WORLD AM I ENTERING MYSELF IN A GAME THAT REQUIRES HAND-EYE COORDINATION AND A BALL? To fit in of course. Besides, I played real football with Kevin and his friends once, and there were boys in that match. I´m not SO challenged. Anyway, I want the teachers here in my high school to know that I am trying, that I do like them, that I want to integrate. My weekends are looking a bit dull (Dorita and abuelita can only entertain me so much), so I am making friends. I hear Chilean barbecues are "la raja," aka ragers. Maybe I will lead the teachers in a warm-up, oh the possibilities. 
Which reminds me, last night the English department held a "tecito," to welcome me to the staff. Every single teacher in the school sat around U-shaped tables, with Marcela and I at the head (quite embarrassing) and Silvana stood up and introduced me (for about the 8th time) and welcomed me. So ... of course, I started tearing up. I don´t know what´s wrong with me these days ... waterworks.
It´s just that, there was this big sign they had made that said "Welcome Teresa," and sandwiches and tea and coffee and terrible tasting cookies. I am discovering that in situations such as these, all the mastery I have gained of the Spanish language disappears in a very unkind way. I am speechless, literally. One on one I am decent; sitting at the head of a buffet table with 45 trained Chilean eyes fixed on me ... not so much.However, in the classroom (thus far) I am a hit. I pretend not to speak Spanish and feel completely at ease among the rows of students, even the seniors. This week has been so much better because I am observing only the classes that I will be teaching and so I am meeting kids I will see every week for the next four months. When I introduce myself, I really introduce myself. "I am from the United States," I tell them, "I hope you´ve heard of it." I tell them that I´m a volunteer so I don´t get paid. I want to stress to them "I´m here because I want to be here, not because I have to be here." There are always a few girls who stare at me, smiles from ear to ear, eyes sparkling. The class never understands everything I say, but usually they can grasp bits. I get that. It´s exactly how I get by with my broken Spanish. I love these kids. Today in a freshman class, groups of girls kept begging me to listen to their favorite songs on their MP3´s and to dance. Of course I did both. "Do any of you girls like to dance?" I asked. They nodded their heads furiously. "Would you like to have dance classes after school once a week?" "SIIIIIII!!!!!" Alrighty then. Consider it done. They asked me if I had been a cheerleader. The unfortunate answer is yes. They seem excited. "You want to create a cheerleading team?" I ask. Again, "SIII!!!!"
This is too easy.
Brave, lone representatives from each class inevitably ask me, "How old are you?"
I make a lock-and-key motion across my lips. "I´ll never tell," I reply.
Right, like I´m gonna tell a bunch of 18-year-olds that they must do the assignment given by the 24-year-old teacher. One girl nails it on the first try. "I think you are 24," she says in Spanish. My blood pressure rises. I stick to the lock-and-key move. It´s working for now.
Last night I also met with the two English teachers from the two elementary schools, with whom I´ll be working once a week. They tell me that almost noone goes to college here. Today, a director at the school gave me a number. Maybe 20 out of 200 continue to college. They don´t have the money or they can´t pass the entrance exam. They usually go to technical schools, to be a secretary, learn a craft, etc.
The English teachers tell me about the Chilean education "problem." Students incessantly strike against teachers in Santiago, teachers strike with students against the government here. Students here are lazy, they tell me. They fail their tests and their parents don´t care. The parents are never home. The children do whatever they want and their parents buy them $200 cell phones. "But if the parents aren´t home, is this because they are working?" I ask. The difficult answer is yes. Lots of single mothers here. "But it is the same in the United States too," I tell them. "Just more segregated." This "problem" belongs to this entire city, dare I say country. In the U.S., it is easily ignored. The middle and upper classes can easily spend a life time without ever having a conversation with someone of a lower-socioeconomic class.
I´ve noticed a different tone in the grown-up conversations I´ve had here. The Chilean people see their situation as dire. They tell me they are very poor, with a very bad education system, but I cannot help but compare their conditions with those of Peruvians. Peru is by FAR the poorer country. The Peruvian economy is pitiful. Chileans seem to know they can do better. They demand more. Perhaps, the Peruvians are just more resigned to their conditions. Obviously I´ve only seen so much, met so many. This is just my assessment.
However, without a doubt, these people could use some help -- a fresh take on teaching English -- but they are on the right track. I was recruited by the Chilean Ministry of Education, that´s a start. Michelle Bachelet, their female president (hell yeah!!!) has done alot for this country. However, there is, without a doubt, extreme poverty in this city, but can´t that be found in almost every American city as well?
"Why did you choose Chile? Why did you want to leave the United States?" a 4th year asked me yesterday.
"To meet all of you of course," I replied.
I mean, I´m just glad to be here.
2 comments:
Gervase, You are giving me chills in my 40 degree celcius sauna-like computer room. You are going to teach so much to these kids that you might not even realize. And of course, you are going to learn sooo much from this experience. How amazing that you are able to give the girls dance lessons and how interesting that you can see the plight of these people and yet recognize their determination to be better. YOU ARE DOING A GREAT THING.
rfitwdloDear Gervase:
Your blog is very interesting. We are always looking forward to your news. We feel your volunteer effort is great, you are giving the children a very good example. Keep the good work and have fun.
Lots of love,
Aunt Gladys & uncle Andy
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