blog entry

Lessons Learned & Planned

"Why are all the parts for girls?" a couple of male high schoolers whined earlier this morning, during auditions for the upcoming theater festival in La Serena. "They are just names. You can get over it," I heard myself saying. Wow. I am a badass. I have been placed in charge of literally running this show, from finding the short, English only play (suggestions appreciated), to conducting the auditions and running the rehearsals. Step one, hold auditions (the American way), switching parts til I´m satisfied and have fully grasped the potential. I will only be able to choose eight students, which means seven students will be very disappointed. A couple girls begged me for Shakespeare ... I laughed out loud. Impossible. I have found a very simple five-page dialogue online with about seven female characters coming and going. There are lines like, "Sally have you heard what Cindy has done with Deborah´s pencil case?" Some students get it. Some trip all over the pronunciations. All I know is, thank GOD I trusted me instincts and nixed William S. in the butt. But still, it was very fun. Almost Hollywood (just kidding), maybe Broadway? I acted friendly but serious. Watch out! Woman in charge! Comin´through! "Will Alice and Cindy please take the stage!" I yelled through cupped hands, only half-joking. I liked being the director, I felt right back at home. My mama would be so proud. After I told them all to go home (and good job, of course), I heard a student named Jonathan complaining to Marcela in Spanish. He only read once, he says. I really can´t stand whiners. "You read twice Jonathan," he gives me an unconvincing head shake. "Yup, you did." He complains the whole way out the door. I discuss the contestants with Silvana and Marcela and when we get to Jonathan I give them my honest opinion ... he showed me very little. His pronunciation was pretty bad and he looked like he mighth hurl at any moment. I hear a bunch about how we need to boost his self-esteem, and I dunno if it´s the power trip or what but I flat out tell them that I don´t think we should just give him what he wants because otherwise it will hurt his feelings. He´s a senior, I remind them. He´s an adult. Angel pipes in. "Yes, but Chileno´s are this way!" He seems to think this is some sort of acceptable explanation. "Well," I continue "I can tell you now that if I´m working with him every week and he acts like that, I´m not going to baby him just because that´s what he´s used to. He´s 18." Marcela kinda smirks and says to Silvana in Spanish "This is why the North Americans are where they are and we are still here." Whoa! Most fascinating quote of my day. I dunno, maybe it´s true, we do have really good theater...

Second event worth discussing: last night I attended my second barbeque at Silvana´s house (she´s so nice to me). I sit around a table with her two uncles and their wives, her father, her grandmother and Mauro (Silvana´s boyfriend) and discuss why I wanted to travel, why I´m here, how I found the program, etc.. We are drinking beer, wine and pina colada´s and I am forced to dance cumbia with an uncle (twice), and then to try to learn the Chilean national dance, Cueca (sp?). I hold a napkin in my right hand and twirl it around my head and dance in circles. It´s hysterical, and quite fun and I am enjoying the company. Silvana´s uncle, Alberto (?) keeps toasting to me and everyone agrees I´m very very nice. And then ... something changes, (maybe on account of the pina colada´s?). Alberto (in his incessant interviewing style) keeps prodding about the program I´m here with. It´s run by the Chilean Ministry of Education and the U.N. English Opens Doors Program. "So you leave at the end of November and then who takes your place?" he asks me. I don´t know. "But you´re job is to improve the student´s English? In only four months?" Yes ... I don´t like where this is going. He keeps looking at his wife and going "zero." After hearing him tell me that this will be of "zero" help to the students for five minutes, I cannot contain my tears. They begin streaming down my face ... and they won´t stop. "Teresa, why are you crying?" I tell him that he is basically telling me that everything I represent, believe and am trying to do here is worthless. He is basically telling me that I am wasting my time. "Then, why am I here?" I demand as I struggle to push the tears back into my eyes with my balled up fists. "This isn´t easy for me, you know. I could be at home, in my country, with my friends and family and my boyfriend, speaking English and actually MAKING money, instead of working for free with your children in your schools," I tell him. The dam has broken, everything I have felt for the past week is pouring out and I cannot control it. He tells me he is not criticizing me and my life, but the program which the Gobierno of Chile has set up. I understand that, but I also try to make him understand that at this point, by criticizing the program and it´s inevitable failure, he is hurting my feelings. "How," I ask him, "will I be able to pep myself into showing up at school on Monday and getting through a lesson with a class full of freshman who never stop talking and don´t even want to learn English, when I have been told with full certainty that I am not making a difference? If I am not helping them ..." I know he doesn´t mean to hurt my feelings and everyone is shocked at how sensitive I am on this subject. But, they slowly start to understand. "It is her vocation right now; She believes it in her heart; She cannot separate her heart from her head on this topic," all the woman around the table explain to the men. Yeah ... exactly. It´s cheezy, but you try teaching fifteen different classes each week, when you have no idea what you are doing, without repeating the mantra, "I am making a difference," over and over in your head. I want to help damnit, don´t kill my buzz. "It just reminds me that most people have no idea how hard this is for me," I tell him. "She came here alone, Alberto," his wife reprimands him, "try to imagine that. Now change the topic!" Well ... my second most embarrassing display over with. What´s next?

It must sound like all I´m doing here is crying, but those are just some highlights. You cannot imagine the wave of emotions I´ve had this week. But, each day spent as a high school teacher, I have learned how to improve the next day´s lesson. The last thing I absolutely must share is a lesson tip I have discovered for my fellow English Opens Doors volunteers who are also faithful blog readers. YOU GOTTA TRY THIS LESSON! ... Musical chairs...seriously. Work a simple dialogue as a group first. Example: 1) Good morning, how are you? 2) Fine, thank you, how are you? 1) I feel tired/excited/nervous 2)What´s your name? 1) My name is Fe-fe .... etc etc etc. Then I undergo a light-hearted listening session and I split the class into groups 1 and 2 and scream "number one´s raise your hands! Number two´s raise your hand! Go!" (Over and over and over...all the while looking like a clown.) The two different groups recite the dialogue back and forth (this can get obnoxiously loud, but I usually take this as a good sign). Then set up the chairs, blast some pop music and watch what happens when the music stops. Kids run around the room frantically in search of chairs screeching. It. is. hysterical. The kids know that the two losers left standing must read the dialogue on the board alone in front of the class. I have laughed so hard during this exercise that tears have streamed down my face (unusual, I know). The crazy classes love this game because they get to dance and scream, but then they are silent when I need them to be silent, because they want to hear what game I will have come up with next, and it really encourages participation. It is amazing.