Time continues its ever present dance, making a mockery of
plans we may have had. Being busy really puts a damper on how often I write my
blog posts. I think I'm going to try to update monthly now instead of weekly
because that's a bit excessive.
What is more beautiful than a mind that wants to learn? A
mind craving knowledge so much, it goes out of the way to learn, which tends to
spark more learning, continuing like that in an endless cycle. Maybe I'm biased
when I say that this: this pursuit of knowledge, is among the best, brightest,
most beautiful things I see. It reminds me why I want to be here, why I came at
all. To help teach those who want to learn. To encourage those who don't. To
help every child realize they can learn, no matter what. Learning doesn't have
to be in schools, it just has to be there. In coming here my goal was to help.
To teach. Coming from such vast, lofty goals, and settling into the
reality of making it happen is quite a switch. Reality is never so soft. It
cuts, sharp edged. Making dreams squeeze themselves into the confining
quarters of reality, well.... it's a task. Dreams can still flourish in
reality, but the shape changes. The patterns come into finer focus as the
details needed to make it continue start growing. Soon it looks more like a
checklist than a dream, demands and requirements weighing down the beautiful
thoughts which inspired it. But, hopefully, with luck, the colors rise back up
in the dream, and, despite all the hard edges reality has forced upon it, it is
still beautiful. Still noble and true.
There are moments when the dream, the reality, and the awe
of being here overlap. Sometimes those moments last for mere seconds, sometimes
hours, or even encompassing whole days. But these, these slivers of perfection,
these are the things which keep me fighting. They are why I do what I do. For that
child who says "Miss, you would teach us?" For that woman who stands
up for herself. For the droves of children flocking to the school library I've
revitalized. Of course it is hard. The question "Why am I even here?"
is unavoidable. Homesickness is part of the job. The number of things to get
used to stretches longer than I can even say. The heat. The sun. The bugs. The
transportation challenges. The mysterious holes which keep appearing in my
clothes. The not understanding half of what people say. The overwhelming
kindness. The gratitude. The small children shouting "Miss! Miss!"
and parading behind me like ducklings. Oh, yeah, there's lots to get used to.
Good, bad, it's the experience. It's not even a single event, or a day, or the
daily battle against a million things which could keep me down. It's
everything, together: a puzzle I don't know the design of yet.
Two years is still a long time. A lot can change. I hope
I'll still be here to the end, still coloring in the dream with finer focus on
what needs to be done. I wonder what I will be like down the road as the Peace
Corps chapter of my life heaves a sigh, ready to be done. Who will I be? What
will have changed? Will I look back on who I am now and not even recognize
myself, but for a shadow of what I will be? I look forward to that day, to who
I will be when all is lived and loved.
Fitness
and Fitting In
I've taken up running. In one part because I've always
wanted to, to challenge myself. Additionally, it gives me a small, consistent,
way to interact with people on my island. I could easily sit around and not
accomplish much, especially with how hot the sun gets, but running has been
good for me. My calves still petition to cede from my body on an hourly basis,
but it's worth it. Sometimes it's hard for me to find reasons to go out and
about in my community, but this makes it easier. I am going to be such a beast
at running after running barefoot in the sand every morning for 2 years.
I think the hardest part of coming in and not knowing
anyone is now past. I hope. There are so many small things which pile up,
things which make this experience incredibly challenging, and not having a good
support network in country is one of those factors which could lead me into
dark places. The relationships here are so crucial. The community is people.
I'm here for people. Without the amazing people I've met, without their
incredible desire to grow, I probably wouldn't be here. Despite the challenges
it presents, I hope I can continue to develop new relationships and build the
ones I've got.
Building relationships with children, that's another story.
For one reason or another, I'm good at making friends with children. Some of
them I already know from summer camp, but many are new, thrilling faces. I
already love all of them. I've taken up writing with some children at the
school. I have a mailbox where they can leave me notes and I respond to them so
the children practice their writing and talk to me. Win win win. I want to set
up pen palling(this is so not an actual verb) between my students and students
out on the coast, and eventually between students in the states. I'm hoping so
much writing will increase skill and build motivation to write well. Spending
time with children at school and at home is among my favorite things.
They are so sweet and eager to please. I
was telling Grannie I want to steal them all home with me. Seriously. She said
I'd need a private jet. If only I could get them through customs...
Too cool
for school
My role at school is still transforming from me having no
idea what to do into something of a plan. Probably a flawed plan I'll
continue to change as I spend more time at the school, but a plan. I think the
best thing I can do is to expect the unexpected. Have a few activities ready at
any time for any age group. My school is understaffed on a good day, but when
teachers get sick or take personal days, the dynamic changes a lot. At
different times, I've been asked to teach two classes at once, become the
nursery teacher, or be something of a special education teacher. It's hard to
describe the full extent of what it's like to be placed in charge of a
classroom with no warning ahead of time. Overwhelming is one word for it. As my
host mom says: it's Guyana style. It's how things are here. When there is no
one else, you have to fill in, or let the children run around not learning
anything. When all the teachers are there, I plan to do literacy interventions
with grades 2 to 6, assist with nursery, and teach struggling grade 5 and 6
students. Oh, and run the school library in all of that free time I have. I'm
really busy every day, I think it's best. No one wants to sit around doing
nothing when they can see how much there is to be done.
After school every day is the best part of the day. I wrote
a little thing about it for my Peace Corps reporting, and I want to share it
here with you.
Two boys, one girl. One boy, Navin, is small. Small small.
He's in grade 5 but looks as if he were in grade 1. But, boy, can he run. The
girl, Earlita, climbs like nobody's business. The older boy, Ravin, has a smile
so big it looks like it'll fall right off his face. Ravin and Earlita are both
in secondary school. Siblings, all of them. The other connection binding them?
None of them can read.
This is a trend in Wakapoa. Focus on literacy seems
lacking, and it proves next to impossible for teachers to provide the necessary
attention to struggling children in schools, overwhelmed as they already are.
Children don't always seek out opportunities to learn, for
one reason or the other, and tend to spend their time playing cricket,
football, climbing trees, or doing back flips into sand pits. Whether this
comes from lack of motivation, lack of encouragement, or some outside
factor, I don't know. But, I do know that they want to be able to read.
It's not from stubbornness that they sit ostracized from their peers. It's not
from some deep brokeness inside them which forces them to look on as others can
read, and they just can't. Despite what the general community thinks, I believe
in these children. The ones who "just can't read." The ones who
"can't learn." The "stupid" ones. The "slow"
ones. Every single one.
Unfortunately, when school ends I have to leave promptly with
my school boat, and am unable to help many struggling students who have to go
to their own island, only to see them the next day at school. For those three
children though, we've only just begun. We don't say anything as we travel home
on the boat together, but sometimes they steal glances at me, occasionally
bursting into grins. It's not until later, after they've changed out of their
uniforms, after I've planned for the next day, that we'll see each other again.
I go over to their house, armed with picture books, alphabet cards, word cards,
and the belief that they will read.
The first day, I almost didn't go. I figured they'd
forgotten my promise to read with them. As soon as I got close, two children
came running over, racing to get a bench for me to sit on, another 5 appeared
out of the bush and rushed to settle themselves on the bench across from me.
They hadn't forgotten. We read, practiced spelling words in the sand, and
worked on sight words. As I started walking home Earlita shouted: "You commin'
tomarrow?" She insisted on walking me partway home so the snakes didn't
get me. When she left for home, her smile could have melted the hardest heart
as she shouted, "tomarrow!" The next day, I expected fewer children.
They didn't have to come. On a Friday afternoon, who would expect children to
lay down their cricket bats, set aside their chasing games, to come, book in
hand, telling me they wanted to read to me today instead of me reading to
them? Not me. But they did. They read. Some had the books memorized, but they
wanted to be there. They wanted to learn. And they must have believed in
themselves enough to be there. When you break it down, it always comes back to
them. Their choice. I can't force a child to learn. They make the choice. The
choice to try, knowing full well they will fail sometimes, but can only hope it
will be worth it in the long run.
How do you measure success of children? Is it really marked
so precisely in the fine numbers and columns of what words they know, what
letters they can repeat back? Or is it somewhat more complicated, lying in the
split second smile as they realize they remembered that word they couldn't get
yesterday? My success comes in smiles, in joy colored faces as they can read
more and more. I measure it struggle by struggle, as they keep not giving up,
even though they easily could. My success looks like Earlita practicing words
at home and racing to tell me how much she knows when I come in the afternoon.
My success is Navin proudly reading along with me, now recognizing the
difference between "please" and "puppy." My success looks
like Ravin bursting with joy as he correctly matches each vowel to the correct
letter. My success is these three children coming out, day after day, to learn.
This is more than they ever do at school. They've changed, just in the short
time I've known them. They try instead of sitting back. They yearn to know
instead of being content with less.
Two boys, one girl. Navin remembers the sound 'a'
makes and couldn't be more happy to show me his 'ah' 'ah' 'alligator.' Earlita
is so proud to remember 10 sight words, and begs me to give her a spelling
test. Ravin is less ashamed to learn to read, he no longer shrinks away, but he
tries his best. Amazing, all of them. The other connection binding them? They
will read, every single one.
There are more children who come to my tutoring group, but
those 3 come pretty regularly since I literally go sit outside their house and
teach. For the reporting form they wanted a specific group of people so readers
could more easily relate to it, or something, so that's why I chose to talk
about those three. I wish I could describe all of them in detail. They are
truly amazing. In recent news, the father, Paul, surprised me by making an
amazing bench for me to sit on so the kids and I don't have to tip over when we
sit on the smaller benches the kids would bring out for me. So heartwarming. I
can tell these kids and their families really want me to be there helping them.
It's nice, going from the dream, back to reality, and having it be a smooth
transition. When I first came in, I knew I wanted to help people, but didn't
know who I would be helping. Now I've met them, and I'm even more dedicated to
them. I love them, and the promise I made to myself is now becoming the promise
I make to them. I will help them, as much as I possibly can. They deserve
everything I can possibly give them, and so much more.
Heritage
September is Amerindian heritage month throughout Guyana,
in addition to being Education Month. Due to living in an Amerindian Community,
I got to attend 3 heritage events in Wakapoa, and had delicious fish at each
one. (Being on the river does wonders for how many fish are eaten). I also got
to learn how to strip the plant tibisiri which is boiled, dyed, and turned into
sweet grass skirts, bracelets, anklets and headbands.
At the last heritage on my island, people danced a number
of traditional dances. I got to dance a few of them when they were practicing
earlier in the week, but unfortunately I wasn't able to for the actual event.
When we were practicing they said I was too tall to dance the dances with them
because they wouldn't be able to spin me. #tallgirlproblems Regardless, next year I will
dance all the dances
Awesome things of this month:
Climbing a coconut tree via rickety ladder to fetch
coconuts. Beast mode. I was pretty convinced I would fall out and die, but I
didn't! Definitely one of those moments which made me really glad I'm here.
Fishing! Yes, you heard me right. Violently murdering cute
little fishies. Don't you hate causing animals pain, Beth? Yes. Yes I do. And
each time we caught something I felt exhilarated and terrible simultaneously. Also
vaguely terrified we would tip out of the canoe, as fish tend to wriggle about
significantly before settling down into having their skulls bashed. (And no, I
did zero percent skull bashing.) It was quite the experience. If I had not gone
with expert fishermen I would have: A. sat in the boat and gone nowhere because
I can't paddle and B. caught zero fish. I managed to catch 3 fish pretty much
on my own. I still can't really deal with the whole hook-in-mouth thing. I did,
however, stick my finger in the mouth of a not-quite-dead-yet fish who used his
last moments to latch onto my finger with sharp teeth. That also very nearly
tipped us out of the canoe. I'm not sure what it was that eventually resulted
in almost canoe sinking. I think one person leaned one way, I leaned another,
and then the other person just kind of hung out as the boat got flooded. One of
the locals who took us screamed "jump jump" and it took me a few
seconds to understand that if we didn't jump, with the boat sinking the way it
was, it would sink to the bottom and we would never get it up. We all survived,
although we did lose two of the fish we
caught. Heartbreak. I went fishing with two locals and two project trust
volunteers from England. I call them the girls. Ella and Tash. They're 18 and are
teaching at another Elementary School in Wakapoa and have little training in
education, so I've been trying to be kind of a resource for them. I can't even
imagine doing what I'm doing now at the age of 18. Whaat. Although, their
service is only for one year compared to the two years, so somewhat less
hardcore, but still.
Following fishing, I managed to scale 3 fish and cleaned
one of them pretty much solo, although I
did have to be shown where to slice the fish since I don't know anything about
fish. We made fish curry. A lot of fish curry. SO MUCH CURRIED FISH. And it was
amazing.
As always, a shout out is in order for you wonderful people
being ten million kinds of awesome and supportive. The question of what I would
do without you is answered simply: I would BE SO SAD ALL THE TIMES ALWAYS. For
real though, you guys are amazing. Whether you read this because you think of
me all the time, enjoy laughing at how many bugs I battle against, are curious
about Peace Corps, or any of the other various reasons you might be reading it,
I appreciate it. I love writing my blog and am so honored you read it. Thanks a
load! For the next one I'd like to do some Q and A if y'all have some questions
for me drop me a line and I will answer the heck out of
them(p3guinluv3r@yahoo.com or Whatsapp +1-592-603-7525). Thinking of you guys
all the time! Loads of love and hugs.
