This morning a host of mothers and fathers gathered around the dining room table of our house to discuss opening an alternative "Escuela de los Padres" in order to compensate for the lack of sufficient education in the rural public schools.
And these gatherers have a point. The school system here is completely fragmented, without methodology or any strategy for dealing with the social implications that arise between the indigenous and the non-indigenous.
When I walk into Tigrera Elementary each morning of the week, I have only the slightest idea of what will happen in the classroom. Many times the teachers don't show, the cook comes and declares breakfast at unforeseeable times, a new student will show up to school for the first time in his life and be placed in a third grade class--yet he doesn't know how to write the ABC's or his own name. The indigenous are almost debilitatingly shy and sit at the back of the classroom, refusing to participate in activities.
Yet the kids are never happier than when they see the volunteers. Each day I walk into the school yard that sits on the riverbank and am greeted with dozens of hugs and kisses. The kids, for the most part, stay attentive and say "Te quiero enseño!" after class. Forget having to earn their trust.
But critical thinking is a foreign concept here. As I write an activity on the board, the students write down every single letter up there. If I write down an activity and give an example, when I walk around the room and peer down at their notebooks I see, "I am from the United States. I am 23 years old." When I say, "Good morning," they reply, "Good morning." When I say, "How are you?" they reply, "How are you?" These kids have had English class for years. But they're not learning much. The disappointing part is that in no way is it these kids' fault.
To come in and try to invent a curriculum without having any experience myself except for lessons of my own education from which to draw on, is a challenge to say the least. But it is working. By presenting material to the kids in doses that are digestible, they are beginning to not only memorize the vocabulary words, but to absorb and understand them. It takes a mixture of fun, discipline and an understanding of the importance of learning for their own sake.
But on a Sunday, I sit and listen to the ideas the adults share about opening an alternative school. As they are all interrupting one another with unfounded arguments, I laugh. There's a hippy goddess stressing the need for training in ecology by taking field trips and cleaning up trash. An American man talking about Conn University. A business man arguing with everyone for no reason whatsoever. But then I stop laughing, and I sit and wonder about their motives, their plan of action, and their willingness to become effective teachers. If these people can't effectively teach their students to say, "I am fine, and you?" after four months of teaching, how will they found a school sufficient enough to serve the needs of these students? It can be a bit discouraging at times.
The heart is there. But what about the drive? The method? A curriculum?
And these gatherers have a point. The school system here is completely fragmented, without methodology or any strategy for dealing with the social implications that arise between the indigenous and the non-indigenous.
When I walk into Tigrera Elementary each morning of the week, I have only the slightest idea of what will happen in the classroom. Many times the teachers don't show, the cook comes and declares breakfast at unforeseeable times, a new student will show up to school for the first time in his life and be placed in a third grade class--yet he doesn't know how to write the ABC's or his own name. The indigenous are almost debilitatingly shy and sit at the back of the classroom, refusing to participate in activities.
Yet the kids are never happier than when they see the volunteers. Each day I walk into the school yard that sits on the riverbank and am greeted with dozens of hugs and kisses. The kids, for the most part, stay attentive and say "Te quiero enseño!" after class. Forget having to earn their trust.
But critical thinking is a foreign concept here. As I write an activity on the board, the students write down every single letter up there. If I write down an activity and give an example, when I walk around the room and peer down at their notebooks I see, "I am from the United States. I am 23 years old." When I say, "Good morning," they reply, "Good morning." When I say, "How are you?" they reply, "How are you?" These kids have had English class for years. But they're not learning much. The disappointing part is that in no way is it these kids' fault.
To come in and try to invent a curriculum without having any experience myself except for lessons of my own education from which to draw on, is a challenge to say the least. But it is working. By presenting material to the kids in doses that are digestible, they are beginning to not only memorize the vocabulary words, but to absorb and understand them. It takes a mixture of fun, discipline and an understanding of the importance of learning for their own sake.
The heart is there. But what about the drive? The method? A curriculum?


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