18 Octubre 2011

When signing up for Peace Corps I found myself saying, and I have heard many other Peace Corps volunteers say, “I had no idea what to expect.”

Even after speaking with returned PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers), you still never really can know. Every community and individual is different. Every experience unique.

But, people do say it is hard, unanimously.

I thought that meant the lifestyle: The living uncomfortably, the eating boring foods, the shitting in a hole, the cold bucket baths. But, I have come to surprise myself in that sense. Physical labor and being uncomfortable is indeed something I have gotten used to and learned to balance.

While life isn’t easy, and it takes longer to make anything happen because of the manuality of living, that isn’t what makes this work, “hard”.

I have come to find that the hardest part of my work here is the fight.

I feel like every day I am “fighting” with and for the local community members. That is hard.

Last week I was asking Roxana about her day. “Bad,” she said, “the principal was in a bad mood.” Basically, instead of being consistently firm but supportive, he picks and chooses when to be which. Today, he decided to be angry about cheating, copying, and fraternization. “He declared,” she said, “that if he sees anyone walking in the streets in pairs, they will be kicked out of the high school. If two people are found doing homework together, they will be kicked out of the high school. If two people’s projects are found to be similar or the same, they will be kicked out of the high school.”

The huge host of problems with these statements flies out at you and me. But, the parents nod with Gregorio (aside: the principal, Gregorio, is the same man who sat next to me on a bus one day as I was reading and asked if I liked to read. “Yes, don’t you?” I asked. “No.” “Really? What books have you read?” He shakes his head, “I don’t like to read.” The worst part of this conversation was his macho attitude, ‘I am not a nerd, you nerd’ *scoff* he is a great influence). The parents see him as one of the most educated locals, and he is. They don’t see that he can’t follow through with his threats. They don’t see that if he does it is actually worse off for the youth. They don’t see how unhealthy this is for youth in a communal society that learn from and support one another. Ultimately, they don’t see that his means and methods don’t actually lead to his goals, and neither does he.

He really does want what is best for his students, but he doesn’t know how to get them there, and he isn’t willing to threaten his own comfort (in my opinion). (in my opinion) I feel this is the case for a majority of the parents in the colca community.

It takes a community to raise a child. So, how do you raise an educated one in an uneducated community? That fight, I had no idea, would be ‘my fight’. That is the density to my hard.

So much NGO (Non Governmental Organization) work and the Peace Corps three goals, ultimately lead to this idea of change. That we westerners can provide a human resource to make change in developing communities so that they are happier and healthier. That we westerners will leave our comfy bubble, see another culture and lifestyle, and bring that knowledge back to make western life more fulfilling and healthy.

But, so many question, is change possible?

When asked (according to WNYC’s RadioLab), “Will humans ever stop fighting wars once and for all?” Nine out of ten say, “No”. And Jab Abumrod points out, that this question actually gets at the real curiosity of; “Do we feel we can change who we are?”

In this radio broadcast (10/19/09 titled: New Normal?) they take it out of the theoretical, and explore the scientific. Is it biological? Are there certain characteristics that unavoidably come from our ancestors that will never change?

Robert Supolsky is a Stanford Neuroscientist that studies wild baboons in the Serengeti, Africa. “Baboons literally have been the text book example of a highly aggressive, male dominated, hierarchical society. Because these animals hunt, because they live in these aggressive troops on the savanna … just like we humans used to, and thus we evolved very similarly… they have a constant baseline level of aggression that inevitably spills over into their social lives.” he says. With one particular troop he was studying, due to a series of unfortunate events, all of the dominant males were killed. This, lead to a community run by females, and a societal change. When new males came to enter the troop, they saw aggression was not necessary, and they relearned a lifestyle. Now, the troop is known for its hippy-dippy, tranquil nature, and has been living aggression-less for over 20 years now. Jab Abumrod says it well, “The idea that something that was thought to be so unchangeable, could change, and change quickly, and then stay changed as a result of something so airy and indefinable as culture… … well that causes… …hope.”

Can people just decide to change, or does it take an unavoidable and dramatic event to force us to?

I am not saying that Western culture is better, we all obviously still want change. I am not saying that ancient cultures are better either. I think there is a pendulum that hangs delicately in the middle closer to happiness and a fulfilled life. But what is it that kicks the butt of culture into change?

17 Octubre 2011

We had to skip “How do I find answers to my questions?” theme this week because the encyclopedias haven’t yet arrived in Madrigal. We moved on to the next week for “What is a good leader?”.

This week is pure games. Everything from working as a group, to following the leader activities, then discussions on what worked and what didn’t. Then, reflections on feelings associated with the different activities.

Because I have been so frustrated with inefficiency lately, I decided to move the egg-drop contest into this week.

I have slowed down working in the fields as much as last year. Mainly because I can’t swallow the frustration like I did before. I mastered smiling and nodding while steam was pouring out my ears, now, I feel no need to get myself so worked up. If I could make a life here, I would be doing things differently with the resources they have.

For example; After plowing the fields with the bulls and laying seeds the field needs to be leveled. This, like everything else, is done by hand with rakes. Everyone grabs a rake and breaks up clumps. It obviously takes hours.

One day when taking the donkey for a walk (yes, he actually did that to keep Wilson fit after days of only grazing), Gray walked by one of my host uncle’s fields and Doña Juana was working there. She called Gray over to help, he obliged, and grabbed a rake. Tio Felix stopped Gray and said, something like, “No no no, I do it like this.” At which point he tied reigns onto the bulls, balanced himself on a board, and leveled the entire field in about 15 minutes, water board style. Gray was flabbergasted. Why have we spent days in Doña Juana’s fields, literally doing back breaking labor, if Doña Juana’s brother figured out a faster way using the free tools we have? The very next week, as I was laying corn seeds, Gray was handed a rake to level. He was silent and furious all day.

He said all that was spinning through his head was,

“Why are they doing this to themselves?

Why is Roxana out here raking when she could be at home reading or god-forbid playing?

Why do these parents repeat the uncomfortable ways of their parents instead of making life better for their kids?

Why don’t they unite and buy a tractor?

There is a serious value to physical labor, but at the cost of education and health?”

His anger was all too familiar. Last year I assumed I was missing something. I repeatedly told myself that I didn’t understand. I can’t possibly understand everything now. But, I can see that these parents have to decide to make change. Even when Gray and I implement something in this house, the family doesn’t come to use it because they never have. The chicken coop is literally rotting away. The oven has only ever been used by me. When I brought some wheat home from a neighbor and put it in the hand grinder she uses for corn, Doña Juana saw for the first time that she has all the resources to make whole wheat bread, but I have yet to see her do so. Instead they buy stale white bread shipped in from Chivay once a week.

Why?

What made my grandmother decide she wanted the lives of her children to be easier than hers? What gives some parents the strength to pull out of cyclical poverty, study for years to become higherly educated individuals, and pass that value on to their children? The brain loves pattern, so much so that these people can’t escape it.

So, this week I wrote in the egg drop contest. Giving them limited supplies (some popsicle sticks, left over recyclable paper, and tape) they had to build a basket that would keep an egg from breaking when dropped from a second story height.

They loved it. The kids were so excited about the activities this week it was almost impossible to control them.

The children are SO hungry. They need so much more than they are getting. I had trouble keeping them away from the book tables while we were playing the different games today. And, so many wondered in totally bummed that we would not be coloring this week. They are hungry to be creative. They are hungry for knowledge.

I know it is in a sense, “too late” for this generation, and I have said since the beginning of the program that I am working for the next one. I can’t get the adults to change now, even if I provide the resources for them to do so. But, I can instill creativity and basic knowledge in this generation so that it will be valued as they begin to have children of their own.

Need-less-to-say the egg-drop competition was a huge hit, as well as the working in a group and leadership games...

13 Octubre 2011

Last night Gray had made me some lovely ginger chicken noodle soup and I was so beat and still feeling ill that I ate some cantaloupe and fell asleep leaving the soup untouched.

Today, we were both expected in the fields. After a bit of a lay in, he attempted to convince me I hadn’t eaten enough in the past 3 days to plant potatoes today. “But they do it. They still have to plant even if they are sick.” was my only argument. I agreed to one hour of work instead of 6 and we headed out. My foggy head couldn’t direct us to the field I planted with Don Juan last year, and we came back 2 hours later exhausted from the hike and having never arrived. The family would have to plant without us today.

As I was coming out of sickness, Gray was headed in. When I came home from VALE with the teenagers tonight, I found him in bed for the evening with all too familiar symptoms. Now, I have made some gentle chicken noodle soup that will sit untouched as well.

The interesting thing that I discovered in VALE tonight, was that the teenagers were as interested in the little one’s books as their own. If not more. I think that this is partly due to the simplicity of the books, and their ability to understand the stories easily. But, I also think the idea of a book for fun with pop outs and monsters is so novel, they are stunned. Books have only ever been boring. Heck yeah they want to read the picture book about the little martian that travels the universe to save a princess. It has little flaps you can lift up to see if the princess is hidden underneath!

If the only book you had ever seen in your life was your school text book, how would you react to a pop out martian, or a book about trains that actually is a toy train as well?

12 Octubre 2011

Two nights ago I got violently ill, yet again. I had to cancel VALE and spend about 2 entire days and nights in bed sleeping.

But, I crawled out of bed today to do a back to back VALE session to play catch up. Today we had about 40 kids come through. I opened with, “I don’t feel well today, so please be patient and nice to me.” A phrase that children really respond to, especially if they can see it in your sunken eyes and pale face. They were very well behaved. Carrying in their water bucket to wash their hands and sitting, reading, quietly.

My favorite part was when one kid took the “Beasts” books and held it up to show his friend on the ware wolf page. All he did was howl. Then his friend howled back. Then a few more kids chimed in. Perhaps there is a ware wolf population in madrigal that I am unaware of…

10 Octubre 2011

This weekend I made a mad dash into Chivay to shower and do some market shopping. Upon my return, Gray had appeared at the house after another adventure into the mountains. This time, he had been traveling with the first team to voyage the amazon river from it’s birth here in the canyon to its far away basin (a new mouth of the amazon was found about a month ago only about an hour’s hike from Madrigal).

He helped Don Juan move the pigs from our house here, to a pen on the more Southern side of the city so that Doña Juana and I can plant a vegetable garden where the pigs were here at the house.

Last week, before the  VALE party, I needed to bounce into Arequipa Friday in order to get the rest of the world spices and cooking supplies. While I was there, I saw a sign for a book festival. Extremely curiously, I went to pick up a brochure to see what it was all about, and a woman working the stand ended up giving me an entire calendar of the event as well as directions to the location at the university on the outskirts of the city. As I flipped through the schedule I found a familiar name. Javier Arevalo is a Peruvian author that gave peace corps volunteers a lecture on Peruvian illiteracy about a year ago. I had met with him, personally, following his lecture in lima to run the VALE program by him. He had given me some fabulous suggestions and clued me in on an NGO he is starting to get inexpensive books to rural communities. As I am wipping out my phone to give him a ring friday, I see that he is speaking at that very moment at the festival. So, Gray and I jump in a taxi and arrive in time only to catch the end of his presentation to high-schoolers on how to take advantage of a library. He calls me up to the stage when he finishes speaking and we chat about the program for a bit. In this time he encourages me to buy as many books as I can for the Madrigal library that very day at the festival not only because it is probably the only time I will see such good quality books in Arequipa (which is true, most books you find here are illegally printed copies), and a portion of the profits would be going to a small community library, a community that looked strikingly like madrigal. As Gray and I already had our return tickets to Madrigal, we had to re-game-plan. We decided it was possible if he did some of the grocery shopping while I book hunted then we could meet at the same bus termimal this afternoon that we deboarded this morning.

I ended up buying two large boxes of ‘starter library books’ for Madrigal from the Vale budget; About 50 3-10 year old books and about 50 books for adolescents and adults. The kids books are full of interactivity with pop-outs and see through human bodies as well as a really lovely bedtime series with short stories with beautiful illustrations. The teenagers got a horror series as well as Peruvian authors short stories series that has the quechua languange thrown in here ad there. Then there is a reference section that I really focused on art, a dictionary with Aymara, Quechua, English, Spanish, French, and German translations, and then some random sciency selections. The point of everything being as fun as possible.

So, this week’s theme is, “Do I like to read?”.

The kids come in the room and I have their reading level books set up on a table under a thin blanket. I hand them each their own personal copy of the book El Principito, and we curl up on a donkey blaket (that’s all I got), and read a chapter. Here the author traveling through space described the little prince on his tiny planet pulling every weed he could find. We discuss all the symbolism involved from everything starting as a seed and growing, to taking care of our planet, to removing all the weeds from our lives so we grow healthy. Then pictionary. There is this special leg up Peace Corps Volunteers have here because these children don’t know games that you or I have known since childhood. I explain the rules of pictionary, and they begin to draw topics from a bowl. Of course we had things like “seed” and “weed” and “planet”, but then I threw in some nasty verbs like “explode”, “to take care of”, and then adjective: “night time”. They did great, and loved it. This fed into an activity where they drew their lives as a tree. With their roots exemplifying their influences, their face in the trunk, then their attributes in the branches. This was a good self esteem exploration as well because they were instructed to ask their neighbors about their attributes. I have to admit, that went well. The little 3 and 4 year olds had trouble with the idea of influences, so I used the words, “What is important to you?” when helping them write out their words. My favorite was Norma’s response, “My mom, my birthday, and dancing.”

Upon finishing their projects the books were unveiled and they all returned to the blanket to read for hours. I was so busy reading to the little guys book after book I wasn’t able to take any photos. Just picture it:

Corner of a cement room

Sitting on a donkey blanket

With not only a circle of children, but little ones climbing over my shoulders

As I read them the first book they have ever read for fun, “Where is my egg?” where a mother condor searches for her lost egg (kind of the opposite of the well known, “are you my mother?)

As a mountain of books piles up next to me ‘to-be-read’

6 Octubre 2011

So tired that I am struggling to even reflect on the day.

I just put my tea kettle on… completely empty. Brain, not, functioning.

But, let’s see what we can do here. Please excuse the severe lack of point to any of the following paragraphs…

Waking up at 8 I began the preparations for the VALE first cycle party. At the end of each of the three sections of the program there is a party planned, and certificates given to youth with attendance above a certain percentage.

Invitations went out this week to parents and teachers. The idea of the party is for the kids to show their parents their art that is displayed on the walls, and show them what they have learned. Not sure if that actually happened.

Certificates- printed, addressed, signed and stamped

Ingredients for the evening-checked

Invitations-delivered

Library-cleaned

Stove and gas tank-delivered to library in trusty wheel barrel

Self-cleaned and placed in heels

Thus was my morning. Having started early, it went off without a hitch.

I was in the library and ready to start cooking by 3pm (a good 3 hours before parents were supposed to arrive).

There were kids playing outside waiting for my arrival as I stepped up with the keys.

“I am sorry guys, but you can’t come in until 6 o’clock.” Was rattled to confused and unhappy faces.

The VALE committee (my dearest and darlingest friends here) showed up with willing hands just before the Secondary School VALE youth strolled in. I had set everything up so that they could divide in groups with recipes and make each dish as I oversaw. Turned out, that through gritted teeth and a plastered smile I needed to teach them how to read a recipe. Even my adult peers. I could have strangled a few individuals with their inability to make a decision without my aproval. But, like magic, about an hour in, everyone was sizzling and stirring away and I was trotting around as each new step was taken. Never-the-less with a constant finger tapping my shoulder from varied hands.

Of course, one of my burners went out, and Hirma had to save the day and bring her kitchenette down from around the block.

Then my 6-month gas tank ran out (pure luck), and the boys hauled me in a new one from a seller around the corner.

And Meche saved the day by running home to boil sweet potatoes to advance the whole process.

The goal of having the youth learn how to make the dishes was completely fulfilled. Even if they can’t remember the recipe perfectly, at least now they know how to work with ingredients they have never touched before. They actually took over the sushi making, even!

We successfully made:

Maki Sushi-Japan

            Avocado inside some, and asparagus and cream cheese inside others

Gyoza-Japan

            HUGE hit. We made them with fried wontons instead of the traditional dough.

Borscht-Russia

            A little heavy on the cabbage, but seriously the best tasting thing we made

Fufu-Ghana, Africa

            A sweet potato dish no one complained about that disappeared

Hummus-Egypt

Our least successful dish. The blender started smoking so it wasn’t smooth, and we threw in WAY to much garlic.

Kashmir Spinach with whole grain rice

Seriously unliked dish. But, it smelled so good I had to try it. One spoonful and I was convinced their palettes are all confused. Flavors I love that I haven’t tasted since I moved here found their way into this plate. It was delicious and hardly touched.

I do have to boast that this was the most people I have ever been in a room with in the canyon that were quiet simultaneously. Not because of the food. Not because of me. Not because of their kids, even. Because of Jeopardy. They had never seen or played Jeopardy, and we put the Secondary School against the Primary one and the rivalry was on. The Primary school had about double the heads to crunch and much better attendence ratings, so it was a very close game. They were captivated, and the parents were gleaming at the information their kids had learned about things they had surely never heard of. A couple of my proudest moments were when youth raised their hands to confidently define things like “What is a maytrushka doll and where does it come from?”, or “Who was Ghandi and where was he from?”. The best was “Demonstrate how the mantra ‘Om’ is used, what it means and why it is used, and from what country it originates.” To which I got, “It means basic (fundamental… close enough), they use it to reflect on their day in India.” “Can you show us?” to which the entire room couldn’t resist and placed their hands in the prayer position and chanted, “OOmmmmmmmmmmm” in unison.

The parents laughed, and I almost cried.

We had at least 100 people in the tiny library. It was wall to wall packed. Warm and deliscious.

The one HUGE disappointment was that only about 20 parents showed up for the 80 or so youth. When Roxana and I got home here parents were watching TV in bed. It is like these parents week after week don’t show up for their kids’ games or recitals. Or more like they NEVER show up. It feels like utter selfishness to me. I keep reciting in my head, “They are tired from the day’s work in the field.” But, I feel like I am making excuses for them so often, now. I have laborious days too. I tend to chickens, pigs, and donkeys before I even start my day then teach. Some days I hit the fields with them. I live without water and electricity as much as they do. Life is as challenging for me as it is for them. And yet, I and a few other locals, actually accomplish things while others seem incapable.

Going on a rant… it has been driving Gray and I crazy how they never fix anything. They just make life work with what they have. But, their lives would be SO much easier if they just took a day to do a project. Fix the entrance to the pigpen so you don’t have to pile rocks every time you feed them. When you bring firewood home, chop it into usable pieces so the women don’t have to break apart wood in the mornings before they make breakfast or any time they want to cook (sometimes, I think this actually contributes to the malnutrition… the lack of desire to cook because it is such hard work). There are SO many of these little projects they just don’t ever do that I could go on forever. A majority of them wouldn’t even cost a penny, so poverty is no excuse.

Are they just missing that little societal push? Does the community not push them to do any better so they just settle for what they have and plop in front of the tv or behind  bottle?

Anyways, the kids had fun and went home with arms full of things they made, tongues confused by strange flavors, and heads floating somewhere far away.

4 Octubre 2011

I tear apart the Peace Corps training often, for a variety of reasons.

Little did I know how well it would prepare me for things I didn’t expect.

But, this week, I have found a theme in advice given to me for the past year and a half that I have officially decided to ignore.

“Don’t get attached.”

We are leaving in two years, we won’t live here forever, so don’t do the following:

1. make a home for yourself that makes you comfortable. Just get whatever you absolutely need to get by.
2. get a pet, they will take your time, and it will be hard to leave them in two years.
3.  get too attached to the people because you will never see them again.
4.  show all of yourself to the people in the community, they won’t be ready for certain things that are acceptable in western culture and not in theirs (it could hinder your work).
5. have any romantic relationships. It just gets to messy with the cultural differences.

Ok, now, think about how depression and loneliness are the number one Peace Corps issues and tell me you wonder why after looking down this list. Who wouldn’t be depressed and lonely if they are uncomfortable, not being themselves, and have no access to someone they can confide in?

So, I am done.

I realized for the past couple months I have been throwing all these things out the window and made a life for myself here.

I have purchased some things to make my kitchen and daily life easier. An extra pot instead of just one. Four plates, mugs, and forks, instead of just two of each. An actual wisk instead of just using a fork to beat. And… a weekly bottle of good wine.

When the family dog was poisoned by a neighbor, Gray brought us home a puppy. She is some sort of German Shepard mix, and will make a great guard dog for the family. She spends half of her days with Gray and I, and the other half with the family. Right now, she sleeps at the foot of my bed.

Roxana is my life-force. I love her with all my heart and will forever do anything I can for her. It will torture us both for me to leave, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love every minute of loving her here.

I specifically changed my dress and removed all my piercings to be culturally sensitive when I moved here. I have nodded and bitten my tongue when someone says something illogical. I have contributed to projects that are poorly planned, designed, and carried out to not offend anyone. Welp, done with that too. I always assumed there was a reason behind the illogical actions that I didn’t know, and trusted in the doer. Now, I know, often the only reason they do something the way they do, is because their parents did it that way. The desire to do things their best doesn’t exist. So, now, I speak up, kindly, but promptly. I get attached to my projects and make them the best i possibly can.

I have started wearing MY clothes again. I would save my clothing style for when I traveled into the city and live everyday in their style of jeans or sweatpants and sweater combination. Now, I stick to clothing that makes me feel good. I wear a little bit of make up, my way. I cut and style my hair shorter and spikier, and it makes me happy. I am attached to who I am and not playing some ¨perfect PCV¨ roll.

And, my work is flourishing, and I am happy.

Yes, I know it will end. And yes, I will be sad. But now I am being my full self instead of my guarded one. Besides, what is happiness if you don’t ever feel sadness? Why live numb?

3 Octubre 2011

At the end of each section we will have a little party for VALE. Over food, the kids will play jeopardy for their parents and teachers to demonstrate what they have learned. This round was “The World” so we will be eating international foods from mostly local products, but a few spices and supplies I had to have shipped in or needed to get from specialty stores. Friday morning, 3am, bus boarded for Arequipa City. Friday afternoon, 5pm, bus boarded for a rapid return to the Canyon. 12 hours on buses in one day = smelly lu and a well deserved night of camping out near the natural volcanic hot springs, and… drum roll.. a warm bath!

The following day was spent getting things ready for today’s VALE.

Now that we have discussed how the planet revolves and creates seasons, and we have discussed quite a bit about different places and countries on this Earth, today we talked about how to take care of our planet.

I asked them what it meant to take care of our environment and there were resounding responses about not throwing trash in the river, street, or ground. So we moved on to what one should do with trash, then what you could do with trash... and I got a lot of blank faces.  I kind of threw the idea at them to recycle trash. Recycling was something they knew they are supposed to do, but they didn’t really know what it meant. They didn’t even realize that they are actually recycling every time they reuse something.

When cutting down the program due to time restraints I combined today’s recyling day, with one of the self esteem days.

“Today, we are going to make paper by recycling news paper. Then, we are going to turn that paper into diaries that you can write in every day.

You have 15 minutes to go outside and collect all the newspapers and flowers you can find to make our paper.”

And, the were off, half an hour later pressing their paper one at a time (which they thought was just the coolest project in the world).

Well, that was until the blender died.

To our dumb luck, there happened to be a gentleman in town selling kitchen supplies. He comes once a year, what is the likelihood!? So, the blender was quickly and expensively replaced, and we were back on duty.

Today felt like a particularly successful day because they youth were in such an obedient and helpful mood. They arrived early, helped set up, listened well, and then stayed to help clean up.

The VALE program gets a gold star for the week because a couple of the girls asked permission to make Japanese fans. When I got them the popsicle sticks and other supplies to do so, other youth started inventing projects with the popsicle sticks. Huge success for the path to creativity that was so non-existent when we started.

We continue with paper making this week, then celebrate with the parents Thursday.

29 Septiembre 2011

We did the Egyptian mask project yesterday.

Hug hit.

Meche came in and played security guard for me to keep the younger ones from entering, and we had about 10 secondary school students (perfect number, I thought).

The project was exciting and they enjoyed themselves. Their maskes were looking good, and they began painting their headdresses as two boys painted their mask like a ninja.

The entire purpose of this program is creativity and curiosity, so I focus less on discipline and more on the youth being as creative as possible. I told them, “I like how you painted your masks, but I need to show your parents and the donors that you have learned about Egypt, so humor us, do the headdresses, then when you take them home, you can throw them away, and use the mask however you like.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’, Gregorio, what did I just say?”

“you said that we need to do the project like you say now, then we can throw them away when we get home,”

“Kind of, just finish your headdresses please.”

As I was finishing this sentence, two female teens were headed out the door after only finishing one mask between the two of them, and not painting it or putting a headdress on.

“Where are you going?”

“We have homework to do.”

How can I fight this? Even though the school system sucks, and this project is probably more beneficial to them than any homework assignment they have, they have to do their homework to proceed in high school.

“Then why did you come here and use the supplies for a project that you couldn’t finish?”

Silence.

“Can you come back tomorrow and finish?”

“Yes.”

With all of me, I doubt them.

“You were both late today as well. If you had arrived on time, perhaps you could have finished. Tomorrow we start at what time?

“4”

“see you tomorrow at four, en punto, then”

I come back inside and begin to clean up the girls’ mess. I step into the bathroom to rinse their bowl and plaster dish. Moments later I come back into the room and the boys have left with their ninja masks leaving the headdresses behind, and made up names written on them. Supplies are also missing.

I allow this to crush me, and cloud me for the rest of the evening. To deliberately disobey even when I was allowing such liberty in the first place tore at my confidence. Demanding it to slide off my back, I decided I should still do something in rebuttal. While I am not here to teach discipline, I do need an ounce of respect to get anything done. I could go to the school tomorrow and have the principal reprimand them in his way for me. I could go pull them out of class and reprimand them myself. I could go to each of their houses right now and demand the masks back.

But, my goals are creativity and curiosity in the youth, so…

I make a sign,

“This is the artistic ability of Gregory, Jamil, and Rodrigo. They couldn’t even finish an egyptian headdress. They have disrespected their teacher and their classmates by stealing materials.”

This, is embarrassing for youth in this small town. Tomorrow when the older youth arrive for their day, they will see it, and word will hopefully begin to get passed around. Surely, if the boys get wind of the sign they will come and tear it down, which I have given them liberty to do by hanging the sign on the outer wall of the library instead of inside. But, their parents will have heard by then and it will have fulfilled it’s duty.

Lack of discipline, however, is a huge issue when one is working towards the advancement of education here. Parents and teachers are irresponsible, whiney, and inconsistent, so, how is there to be any improvement with their children? There won’t be. Anytime soon.

All I can hope for is that this program instills creativity, curiosity, knowledge, and leadership skills in this generation of kids so that they can pass that on to their kids at a younger age preparing their brains better for the world of education and fixing it themselves.

28 Septiembre 2011

All I can say is, coming home to a puppy wagging her tail and jumping on me saved me today. she and i crashed on the bed together minutes after i made it through the door. I will write more tomorrow.