Neither Here Nor There

One of the biggest mistakes I've made in preparing for this trip, and trying to adjust to new elements as they come, is my comparison of life here to my life in Italy when I studied abroad for 4 months. On the one hand, it made perfect sense for me to compare the two. Living in Italy was the only experience I had living abroad for an extended period of time, so it was the only niche into which I could try to fit my new lifestyle. On the other hand, it was the dumbest thing I could have done. News flash: studying abroad with English friends in a developed country is a little difference then going alone to a country that, in all it's beauty, still struggles with poverty.

Nevertheless, when I found out that I would be teaching English twice a week at a catholic school in one of the campos, I was immediately filled with dread. I hated teaching English in Italy. I had no control over the lessons or the kids, had little support from the teachers and just generally found the experience to be more stressful than enjoyable. I left each day questioning whether or not I was meant to be a teacher, and what it was I was doing so wrong that made every lesson a failure. So it was with an anxious heart and heavy mind that I entered the old barn where the catholic school is located. Granted, the hour bus ride that left an hour late and follows eroded roads and cliff sides the entire ride didnt exactly ease my fears.

As soon as I entered the first partitioned classroom, I realized the mistake that I had made. Comparing my experience in Italy to what would be my experience here was like comparing my skin color when I arrived to my skin color now- not even fair. I walked in to a crowd smiling faces staring up at me and wanting to soak up every word that I said, whether in English they didn't understand or Spanish...that they still didn't understand because I'm not exactly a language expert. They wanted my love, my help, and my attention. And I could have given it to them forever. My time with them the first day was cut short, and instead of feeling a sense of relief, I felt a sense of sadness that they didn't get to finish decorating their name tags, and would have to wait a whole other week. I knew then, that this time was different. This time, the classroom was my home and not my enemy.

Granted, there are similarities. Elementary aged children everywhere are the same. Full of energy, unable to sit still and still in awe of their own voice and knowledge, leading them to want to teach instead of learn. I was the same all those years ago ( sorry mrs. Livingston). Most kids are good for about a half an hour of English, and then are bored. Instead of fighting it, this time I came prepared with coloring books and enough markers to go around. I learned from the terrors in Siena, and refused to be beaten this time around.

I'm not sure if this time is different because of me, or because of the kids. Maybe I grew more than I knew in my teaching abilities during my last year of school. Maybe somewhere along the road I found the patience I've been lacking since the day I was born. Or maybe I just connect with these children on a deeper level than teacher and student. Maybe they mean more to me than the kids in Italy did. Whatever it may be, what I know is that I'm counting the days until I go back. I know I want to be there, and I want to plan. And I know that no matter where my life will lead me, my heart and home will always be in a classroom, whether in a beautiful school in Vermont or a barn in Rancha Arriba.

I've always believed that education is the way to change the world; truly I believe it is the only way. And I believe it is my mission to do my part and be a facilitator of that change. You see, I don't teach because I love children. In fact, out of the classroom I secretly find many of them annoying. It's the brutal, and surprising, truth. I teach because each child deserves the chance to decide what they want out of their lives without limitation based on what family or country they were born into. I teach for the child who has no hope, to give them that starting spark. And never have I seen the need for education more than I have here. These kids soak up everything, in the hope that one day they can be what their dreams are telling them now they are capable of. Even if it's only for two or three hours twice a week, I teach here to keep that dream alive for one more minute of one more day. To give them that hope.

So next week, and the week after, and the week after, I will board the crazy gua-gua, be smushed against the window and make my way to the barn. I will make my way home to be with my kids and try to teach them the difference between there, their, and they're, while asking ask myself who in God's name made English so complicated. Really, it's unnecessary.

Wishing you a great weekend,

Siobhan