Two months and counting!

Someone told me today that they’ve been checking here periodically for new posts and they’ve been surprised to see none. So they’ve kind of kicked me into gear on this front, I guess. I’ll admit that writing on a regular basis is hard, but I think what’s harder for me this time is that what I want to write is not exciting, or beautiful, or lovely. But let me start with the good, first. 

These past few months in Chonta have been wonderful, and I find myself already missing the people and places that have become my new normal, knowing that I only have 3 months left before I leave. A small, cold fist grips my heart pretty tightly when I think about leaving COAR Pasco. It’s been such a short time that I can’t believe how quickly I’ve gotten attached to joking around with the students, playing volleyball with them during recreo, always nagging them to speak English during class, answering their questions and delighting in their reactions. I’ve had a few kids ask how old I am, and when I say 22, they all react the same by saying “oh!” with their eyebrows raised.

I’m sure I seem ancient to them, but they are bringing out the kid in me, and I love teaching them all the tricks and bits I had forgotten I even knew! There’s one kid, Oliver, who’s a freshman, and the other day I played him hard by asking him for a high-five, only to snatch my hand at the way at the last minute, saying “jellyfish!” while squiggling my fingers like tentacles. The whole class burst out laughing, and he hung his head in mock embarrassment. So I said “Oliver, I’m sorry. I pinky-promise I won’t do it again,” holding out my pinky as a truce. Oliver went in to pinky-promise me, and I wiggled my pinky away and said “smaller jellyfish!” while the class roared with delight. Poor Oliver! It was really hard to keep a straight face, but I did my best while I told him I was sorry, and held my arms out for a hug. He looked very mistrusting of this sudden gesture of contrition, but I made myself look appropriately apologetic, and I said, “No, really, Oliver I won’t do it again. You can trust me.” So warily, he approached me for a hug. But at the last minute, I pulled away, waving my arms out like tentacles and saying, “bigger jellyfish!” Poor, poor Oliver. The class was dying with giggles and Oliver kept hanging his head but I could see how he was smiling. I’m smiling now just writing about it. It’s so fun to teach these kids and watch them grasp a difficult concept, but it’s just as rewarding to see them take a break from their 12-hour school day and be kids again. The 3A class now has a healthy mistrust of any time I hold my hand up for a high-five, but they also love learning these tricks to practice on their friends, and I think that’s such a lovely, indelible part of this cultural exchange. Not everything has to be complex, serious, or studious. It can be about having fun and showing the kids that there is someone in their corner willing to joke around with them, while also imparting knowledge. 

So those are the good days, when I walk around the classroom and I get to teach students new phrases, or new gestures, and see them absorb it. The past few days, a lot of students have been asking me if I know any trabalenguas, or tongue-twisters. I’m slowly and very painfully learning complicated Spanish tongue-twisters like:

“Otorrinolaringólogo de Parangaricutirimícuaro, quiere desotorrinolaringologoparangaricutirimicuarillarse, el que lo desotorrinolaringologoparangaricutirimicuarillare, un buen desotorrinolaringologoparangaricutirimicuarillador será."

In turn, I’ve been teaching them about Peter picking pecks of pickled peppers and how much wood a woodchuck chucks if a woodchuck could chuck wood. Me da mucha risa verles intentando de decir las trabalenguas ingleses sin saber realmente lo que están diciendo. 

But there are not great moments too, and I’ve spent some of the last few weeks feeling both frustrated and useless. Because we were dropped into the middle of specifically-functioning schools, we ETAs are more like auxiliaries or support staff than actual teachers. There’s also unspoken rules and drama that exist within the COAR that we aren’t privy to, so we’ve been gleaning information on underlying conflicts between staff and administration, or between staff members themselves, and it’s been hard navigating the political aspect of the school along with trying to make friends with teachers who 1) speak only Spanish, 2) are generally a lot older than us, and 3) don’t really interact with us or each other within the COAR. 

The other struggle with being dropped in media res to this school system is that we are unfamiliar with the curriculum, and we’re not in a position to really have access to it, either. Our work so far has mostly consisted of accompanying the English teachers to their classrooms, and being called on occasionally to explain a concept, correct pronunciation, or give an anecdote about the US. We will walk around and answer student questions, or check their work, but we haven’t been doing much in terms of teaching actual concepts. It’s sometimes hard to see if we’re even having much of an impact besides being a temporary novedad for the students to fawn over. Also, since we don’t follow a strict schedule, and we can’t exceed 20 hours a week at the COAR, we are always entering at different times to different classrooms, and it’s hard to keep track of what lessons we taught and when, and whether all the students are getting key information on an equal basis. I’ve talked with some of my ETA friends who are spread around Perú in other COARs, and they’ve shared similar frustrations. Either they’re taking on too much work because the school is understaffed, or they aren’t being used to their full potential because of a lack of communication or training. Part of the politics of the school is that we are always having to run ideas by the administration, who have final approval, and decide when and where we can implement those ideas or lessons. So, for example, I wanted to share a presentation with the 5th graders about common grammar mistakes that my friends Eliza and Isis made. But because they’re busy with IB exams, I won’t be able to present until the middle of next month, when the exams are over, and these tools will no longer be as useful. It’s been a hassle and a process getting used to these frustrations and even naming them out loud, since I am so grateful to be here doing this work. But if I am going to come to another country to teach, I want to make sure I actually teach and create a lasting impact. Otherwise this scholarship feels too close to colonialism and white saviorism to my liking, and I feel like both the students and I are losing or wasting a really incredible opportunity of mutual learning and exchange. 

If you’ve made it this far into my rant, thank you for listening, and for sticking around. I want to make sure I am being transparent about this experience, so I’ve mashed the good with the bad. But I’ll end on some positive notes so you can see that this is very much still an adventure I’m enjoying. Firstly, we are making headway with the teachers! One of them, Miss Tanya, invited us out the other night to celebrate her birthday. We went to an artisanal pub, drank a lot of beer, ate wings (well, I didn’t, but they looked good), and eventually went to go sing karaoke and dance. We took over pretty much the entire karaoke bar, and no one was dancing like we were, but it was a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed getting to know some of the teachers outside of the COAR. Plus I got to sing Caraluna, which is one of my favorite songs ever, especially for karaoke, and everyone sang along with me! 

Another kind of crazy thing that happened the other week is I went out to a cafe with Aiden in Oxa to have a drink, and while we were there, a waiter left me his number on a napkin folded in the shape of a heart! It was super unexpected and I definitely turned bright red–I’ve never had that happen to me before and it was exciting. We’ve since hung out a few times, and he is a very avid reader of this blog, actually. He showed up for our date having read some of the entries, which was crazy to me, but he’s told me that I write really beautifully so I’ve decided to overlook it (flattery will get you anywhere). Unfortunately for him, I’ve vowed to my grandmother that I will not marry a Peruvian as I must return to the United States once my year is up and not move to Peru for good. 

In other news, I recently took my first weekend trip since moving to Oxa. I went with Aiden and our friend Natalie to Villa Rica, which is about an hour and a half away from us. It was an incredibly twisty and slightly nauseating journey by car, but we arrived in one piece, and enjoyed ourselves immensely. We went to a waterfall, or the catarata El Tigre, and we swam in small swimming hole surrounded by mossy rocks and trees. The water was frigid and murky, but it was the best swimming I’ve had in months! Aiden tried futilely to climb up the rocks next to the cascade, I tried my best underwater handstand, and we both swam under the waterfall–I couldn’t even keep my eyes open for the pressure and the spray! Villa Rica is known for their coffee, and having purchased some, I can say for certain that it is delicious. Aiden brought his moka pot to Peru, so no morning is complete without the ritual of dumping out the old coffee grounds, refilling the pot, lighting our gas stove, and hearing the moka pot burble and hiss to tell me my coffee is ready. It’s incredibly satisfying but, unfortunately, the pot only makes one serving at a time, so we have to take turns emptying it out and starting the whole process again if we want more than one cup. 

All in all, things are still amazing, even if they get frustrating, uncomfortable, or monotonous every once in a while. I miss you all immensely, and I can’t wait for my first few visitors to arrive so I can show them the best bits of Oxapampa in person. Les prometo que escribiré la próxima post con más prisa. Besitos y abrazos! xx