Sunshine!!

Wednesday morning was one of those routine mornings, got up, and checked my email on my Kindle.  I got a really great update email from a friend of mine doing TFA in Texas, who is probably the most naturally gifted teacher I’ve ever met, and reading about how he is handling the difficulties with students was absolutely inspiring.  I’ve been having some issues with my kids, but it is nothing compared to what he goes through on a daily basis, and yet he is always capable of finding the motivations behind negative behavior and discovering what he can do to best support those students.  His ability to always find the best in students was an inspiration I desperately needed. 

I packed up my bag, and then realized that I needed to get to class quickly because it was almost 10.  I threw a drinkable peach yogurt into my bag, a Clementine, an apple, and a little package of peanut butter and ran out the door, but stepped slowly and carefully down my muddy death trap of a hill.  Mishel decided again today, without giving any reason at all, that she wasn’t going to come to my class.  I hate it when she does that.  Maybe I hate it because it means she either doesn’t enjoy my class, or something is happening with the other students that I’m oblivious to, which doesn’t usually happen in my classes in the US.

On my way to class, I was walking by two women and one of them paused a couple steps past me and asked if she could ask me a question.  I said of course.  She asked about my English class and if she could send her kids.  I told her we only have a couple classes left but she is welcome to send her kids.  I always am halfway delighted and halfway annoyed by this.  I’m excited that people are starting to get to know me and know what I’m up to.  I’m pleased they want to send their kids to learn from me, but sort of annoyed that they waited until we were almost done with class to figure out I was having them and send their kids.  Playing catch up is not my favorite game.

My kids, waiting at the door

One of my favorite parts of my English class is when I turn the corner and walk down the steps to the bottom level of the school where my class is.  I always find a big group of students waiting on the stairs on the other side or lined up against the wall.  As soon as they see me they all start shouting “Good Morning, Teacher!” which warms my heart like nothing else.  “Good Morning” I always call back with a giant smile on my face.  When I get about 20 yards closer, they repeat their greetings and I repeat mine over again.   When I get close to the door they all crowd together around me and I’m waist deep in children.  There are two doors I have to unlock, on the outside there is a door of bars, which is easy to unlock, but I need to open slowly so as not to bend the fingers that have laced their way around the crisscrosses.  When the first door is open, the wave of little kids pushes in again, pressing against the next door, waiting to burst through.  The pressure on the door actually inhibits me opening it, so every class I have to tell them not to push on the door.  I finally get it open and they all go racing for their seats.  I think that moment, before we even enter my class, is often my favorite part of class.

We spent Wednesday learning vegetables.  I had them write down the vegetables in their notebooks, then I had them practice the names in English using some really terrible pictures I had drawn of the various vegetables.  After that we played their fruit game, but with vegetables.  Gladis was refusing to participate again.  My first instinct was to be annoyed by this, but then I remembered my friend’s email, so I told her if she wasn’t going to participate, I at least needed to know why.  I waited a long time for a response, and when I finally got one, she said that Hames (It’s James, but pronounced “Ham”, like you’re a super stuck up British person, think “haum”, and then “es” is more like “ace”…Haumace…) said he didn’t want her to play.  When I looked at Hames and he denied that he hadn’t done it, it was written all over his face that he had.  I told Gladis that Hames said that because she always wins the fruit game, and told her to beat him again.  She decided to join in then…and she did beat him. 

I noticed later, when we were drawing our vegetables in different boxes to practice numbers and listening comprehension, that Gladis had her entire body covering her paper, which she usually does whenever we draw things.  I have always known there was a bit of a shyness issue with the girls in my class, but I started to realize how significant the confidence issue was.  All the times my kids have said “no” to me, or abstained from participating, it’s always the girls.  It’s pretty clear to me that the behavior in my class is really gender divided.  The boys drive me crazy sometimes because they are too loud and out of control sometimes, but they always participate, for the most part.  The girls, however, it’s like pulling teeth sometimes to get them to participate.  Most of them are so unsure of themselves, never want anyone to see their drawings, and with the exception of Gladis sometimes, barely talk above a whisper when I make them speak English.  Their lack of participation and occasional refusal to do what I say are what drives me crazy about my girls.  It’s a confidence issue.  It makes me so sad.  Gladis learns the English faster than just about anyone in my class but doesn’t have the confidence to call out answers.  When she does, which is rarely, I make an effort to praise her by name and make eye contact with her.  I think she needs some positive reinforcement.  The worst part about the lack of confidence, and seeing it so young in these girls, is that it’s going to significantly hold them back.  People around here say that boys and girls are equal, but if the girls are pushed into a shy, self-conscious corner and the boys are expected to be boisterous and loud, who is going to learn more in the end?

We played Bingo to review their numbers again.  I was thrilled to see how much they have improved.  The only problem, was that one of the girls, a second grader, didn’t know her numbers in Spanish.  The way I do it is to pull a number out of the bag, say it in Spanish, and then they have to tell me what it is in English.  Then I write it on the board.  This little girl could see the number, and hear it in Spanish, and she couldn’t find it on her board.  She kept asking the boys where the number was on her board, numbers as simple as 8 or 6.  José, or Ismani, (he goes by both), was sort of helping her, but at one point got frustrated and yelled “No!” and then slapped her in the face.  He didn’t slap her hard, it was with the same force that you jokingly tap a friend, but I saw it.  I yelled out to him that was not ok and gave him the scary “teacher glare”, while his other boy friends laughed.  I told them to stop laughing, that it wasn’t funny.  Liz, the little girl, wasn’t hurt at all, but I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t do anything else about it.  I think I was just completely stunned that it had just happened that I didn’t know what to do.  I have no doubt at all that I would have handled that differently in the States, but I’m mortified about how I handled it in that class. 

We played the two lines game outside that I made up from an old soccer game I can’t remember the name of.  They love that game.  Some girls from town came and sat to watch the game.  A woman was cleaning up around the school and asked if she could send her kids to me also.  I was equally delighted and annoyed, and told her she was welcome to send her kids.  I currently don’t have enough chairs for the kids that come, so I’m actually kind of hoping that maybe she won’t send her kids.

I told the kids class was over, and they begged to play the game for another half hour.  I gave them five minutes.  At the end of class, all the students lined up at the door for their piece of candy.  Gladis took her time packing up her things, and was the last to the door.  I let her pick what flavor she wanted of fruit candy.  She picked Grape.  I went back inside, packed up my things, and when I came out, Gladis was waiting for me.  She looked shy for a second and then handed me a bag of their version of popcorn, the name of which has currently escaped me. I think it’s called Canchita, or something, but imagine popcorn seeds, significantly enlarged and chewable with salt on it.  It was really sweet of her.  She asked if I was walking to the health post again, and I said yes.  She told me she had to get her bottle but she’d be right there.  She ran up the stairs and over to the “Cheese house” as I call it to pick up a bottle full of whey that I think they give to their pigs.  I walked up the other side of the school building and waited for her on the road.  She came running up the side of the hill.  Liz, the little girl bought herself some snacks at the store and then asked me if I was walking to the post.  I said yes, but that I was waiting for Gladis.  We waited together.  Gladis stopped at the store and bought a couple of things.  She came running over and we headed down the hill.  We chatted about her older brother and that she was planning on heading into Chota soon to visit him.  She handed me an alfahor she had bought and I thanked her.  Alfahores in Argentina are DELICIOUS.  Alfahores in Perú are not.  You know how sometimes in the States you get excited about a baked cookie or blond brownie you bought from a grocery store that’s wrapped in plastic wrap, and then you bite into it, and there is nothing sweet about it?  It’s like eating crumbly wheat bread.  Alfahores in Perú are like two pieces of that with a clearer version of paper maché mixed with too much sugar in the middle.  They are bad.  I didn’t eat it.  When I said goodbye to her at the gate to the health post, she handed me another one.  I thanked her sincerely and told her I’d see her Monday.  Our little routine made me feel wonderful, like I had made a space for myself in someone else’s life here in Perú.

I headed back home from the health post a little bit later in a great mood.  The sun was out for the first time in a while (that always makes my day).  Instead of racing the rain back to my house, I turned my usual hike into a nice little stroll, enjoying the view and the warmth on my face.  I ran into the health promoter and chatted with her for a little while.  I bought myself a coke at one of the little stores, and continued my stroll.  I saw a bunch of kids playing in the brook and thought how lovely it will be when we have continuous days of sunshine to go down there and dip my feet.  I passed by some guys who I had said hello to that morning.  They had spent the day putting up a fence around the fields across from my house.  They were sitting in the shade under some tall bushes and I stopped to chat with them about their progress.  They were almost done.  I made the hike up to my house and sat on the bench outside for a little while.  I put on a tank top to maximize my skin to sun exposure and decided it was a good day to wash my hair.  As always, I washed my hair in the sink we have outside, and then grabbed my kindle and my coke and went to sit in the little chair on the top of our hill. 

I was warmed by the thought that Iraca will be a wonderful place to live when the rain stops and we just have sunshine.  It’s already beautiful but I feel like I live in a swamp sometimes because it’s always pouring and I can’t leave my house without knee tall rainboots on.  So I got excited about when the rain finally stops.  Six months out of the year it rains here.  I tried not to think too much about that. 

My friend, Silvia, called me.  She lives in Tumbes on the beach and sometimes I find it hard to not be super jealous.  She gets to swim in the ocean on a regular basis.  She asked how I was because I hadn’t been feeling too thrilled the last time we had talked, and I got to tell her that I was going great!  Sunshine really is all it takes for me these days.  We had a fun time chatting for a while, she was apparently upset she had lost some large and ridiculously fabulous hat….which she called me back about an hour later to tell me she had found. 

I had emailed my boss the day before to ask her for Carlos, the tech guy’s, phone number or email address because my phone has been incapable of calling numbers that don’t have RPMs.  RPMs are numbers that start with * or #, and you have to pay a little extra to have one, but you can call anyone else with one for free.  All the Peace Corps volunteers have them, which in the end saves us a lot of money, BUT, not all the people I work with, including my host Mom, have RPMs, so I can’t ever call them back.  Emilia called me to tell me it had been fixed, I just needed to turn off my phone and turn it back on again.  I did so, and it didn’t work.  I tried again.  Didn’t work.  I should probably mention that Carlos has a reputation of not being helpful at all.  I called Emilia back to tell her it didn’t work and she was like, “Oh, are you so happy your phone works now?”  I felt really bad answering her with a, “well…actually…it still doesn’t.”  She told me she’d get Carlos to call me.  So Carlos called me and we chatted and then he hung up to call the Movistar company. When he called me back to tell me it should be fixed, he asked me to call a non-RPM number, and BE SURE to call him back either way.  He sounded sort of scared, or nervous, and I’m guessing that is because Emilia has a reputation of getting things DONE.  That woman knows how to strong-arm better than anyone apparently.  I’m pretty sure she freaked Carlos out. 

MAGIC – my phone finally worked.  It was like Christmas.  I didn’t have to feel like a horrible person for not calling people back.  I could actually be accountable and professional.  It was good news.

Wednesday was a good day.