Lunes, Lunes (Monday, Monday)

Monday, October 05, 2009

I am tired today. There are four weeks until the school year ends, and if I am tired, I am positive that the kids must be tired. They didn’t really have the energy to fight me in class today, until the end anyways, when they were sure to make sure I knew that I was giving them way too much work to do when they have SOOO much work in other classes, too. They are mad with me because they have a final test AND a project to do in my class. “Ay Daniela, no, eres mala. Es mucho.” Whine whine whine, they are in 9^th grade and about to graduate, I told them; they are just going to have to buck up and deal (as my Michiganite roommate Anna likes to say). Several of the 9^th graders used the “vos” form with me in class today, which is a very rude, very informal form in Latin America to address someone unless you are close friends. It would be comparable to saying, “hey you” to your boss or college professor, although even that translation loses a bit of the bite. But I know how far I’ve come from starting this job, because as soon as they tried “vos” on me, I gave them one look and they corrected themselves. And although their whining and complaining about all the work they have to do is obnoxious, I know they’ll do it because they know I’m serious.

As my experience with my 9^th graders illustrates, today has definitely been a Monday: Talleres lived up to its reputation for me to make sure of that. At 9:00 I went to the 9^th grade classroom to teach there, as I have been doing for the last couple months, but today—as has been happening lately for some reason—the teacher told me that I couldn’t use her classroom because she needed it, and that I’d have to find the person with the keys to the extra classroom. Dragging a line of kids with me waiting to get into a classroom, I went from room to room in search of the professor who usually has the keys. After somewhat of a wild rabbit chase, someone told me that that professor didn’t come to school today. OF course. So back the first professor to ask her if I could please use the other other extra classroom. She rolled her eyes and reluctantly tossed me the keys, adding that I need to make sure that no one touches anything. Sí, sí; I know. A few of the kids who had thought they’d be really smart by sneaking away from me in my classroom hunt looked disappointed when I went back out to find them and tell them that I had a classroom and that we’d be having class in two minutes. FINALLY we were able to start class. And commenced the whining, but you know how that ended.

Monday settled into my class with some of the younger kids, too, and made itself quite comfortable. I opened a bilingual book, Puss in Boots, to read out loud . . . and strained to make myself heard over the pounding and yelling going on in the classroom next door, for all 20 pages or so. A quiet classroom is simply too much to ask, I suppose. When the classrooms have no windows, it’s easy to hear everything going on in every classroom. I was glad when I gave the kids their notebook activity for the rest of the class period and they settled into making their own book. But Monday found me again when I accidentally ran into one of the metal desks and pounded my funny bone into it. The three girls at the back burst out laughing and thus ended my few moments of quiet. And my elbow still hurts.

But none of that is as Monday as what happened to Ernesto, the other English teacher here. His Monday is pretty much as bad as it gets. Ernesto is the best teacher in Talleres, in my opinion. He has only been working here since February, but he has more energy than any other teacher and works harder than any others. He is also one of the few teachers I’ve witnessed in Talleres who is not apathetic towards his work; he honestly loves the kids he teaches. And, he has been unfailingly helpful to me in my transition here, whether it be speaking English with me, practicing some French, loaning me movies, or telling me about the teachers’ meetings when we have them. Ernesto called me over today during recess to tell me that he had been fired this morning for not coming to teach classes two days last week and failing to call and notify the office that he wouldn’t be coming. His grandmother was very sick, and he traveled to La Ceiba to care for her. I understand why he had been fired—you cannot just not come to work without calling—but I am furious all the same. I can point to more than several teachers in Talleres who play hooky all the time, who do more sitting and gossiping than teaching, and whose attitudes are about ten years stale. As Ernesto mentioned to me today, there is a hierarchy at the Vocational Center (Talleres): if the teachers who have been there for years don’t like you, you’re out. I guess it’s a good thing that they can’t really fire volunteers. I already work for beans.

Finally, Monday attacked again when I had to cancel my last class of the day in the afternoon when I found out about two minutes before it started that we were having a teachers’ meeting. And it was definitely, definitely a Monday meeting: what are the goals for next school year, what are the founding principles of Padre Wasson (the man who started NPH), what are we expected to show, yadda yadda yadda. My only solace in the drone of the meeting was a little chat beforehand with one of the nicer professors about how my classes are going. She told me that she has never seen the kids so well behaved, doing their work and paying attention for any other volunteer who has had my position. She said that her class is sometimes better behaved for me than they are for her, and that they respect me and like my teaching. For all the pain a Monday brings, that’s all I needed to hear to be able to get up again tomorrow morning.

And just in case some of you are wondering:

We haven’t seen much of a change in the political landscape here since last week, although the 10 day limit that Micheletti gave the Brazilian embassy to figure out something with Zelaya expires on Wednesday. Some of the volunteers who didn’t have to work this past weekend ventured into the city and returned to the Ranch bearing no extraordinary stories of adventure and terror. We are as of today no longer under a suspension of civil liberties (hooray?). The Ranch/NPH as an organization is laying low in all of this and being very careful not to align itself with one side or another. Apparently one of the casualties a couple weeks ago in the tear gas explosions was a woman who was demonstrating with her husband, and she had been a pequeña here at the Ranch years ago. The pro-Zelaya people are somewhat holding her up as an inspirational beacon, as someone who came from poverty and died speaking out against the “golpistas” (the coup-doers). Needless to say, we are all being very careful, but all the same, Rancho Santa Fe is as ever very secluded and cut off from a lot of what is happening in Tegus.

Happy October everyone and congratulations on getting through your Monday!