During the first months of service I resigned myself to the notion that every day passed meant one day less than two years. The end of June marked a year of service; now my solace comes from the fact that less than a year remains. Here are a few changes in my life that have developed and truths that have become apparent over this past year:
1)The river is my new shower, as well as washing machine. My biceps are slightly more toned from all the effort.
2) Washing clothes is for the hell of it. Two seconds into wear some dog will jump on me or a kid will slap me with a dirty hand and run away delighted. Back to the river they go.
3)I will always look/feel disgusting. Where there is white skin and mud, there will be general filthiness. Panamanians are hard on me, but they fail to realize dark skin better camouflages dirt, leaving the illusion of cleanliness. I am not adapted for this area!
4)I paint my toenails, not because it is fashionable or appropriately feminine, but because it hides dirt (note this entry´s emphasis on cleanliness). I never painted nails before Panama, now my nude nails disgust me.
5)Food is only as fast as I can prepare it. In college I relied heavily on fast or pre-prepared foods. Here everything has to be done by scratch with a saucepan and limited ingredients. Sardines are about as exotic as it gets in the tienda.
6) Though I´m not impoverished, this is the first time in my life where a pound of seedless grapes will cost me a third of my daily salary (hence no grapes). My suppressed American materialist desires surfaced in a Panama City mall where I was overcome with a desire to buy something new, shiny, and pretty (and, of course, totally unnecessary). But when even Payless shoes are too luxurious, one has to settle for cheap costume jewelry they´ll never wear.
7) Time only exists in my mind. I check the clock to track my daily progress whereas neighbors operate by a morning-afternoon-night system of measurement dictated by the sun. Start times do not exist and punctuality is rumored to exist in ¨the city.¨ Because it doesn´t exist, one´s time is not valued by others.
8)I´m socially awkward. I´ve been rudely disconnected from my age here- my friends are either twice or half my own age. I´m not sure which is worse, acting prudish and disinterested in youthful exploits, or trying to be a ¨cool¨and apathetic youth (something I never cared to master).
9)The humidity claims all. I´m still unaccustomed to this permanent sauna called Central America and no one lets me forget. I arrive after walking briskly to someone´s house to have them announce that I am ¨sweating a lot.¨ Everything is claimed by mold; clothes, bedding, shoes, even books. My Webster´s dictionary now houses more mold spores than English words.
10)I´m here for no other reason than to amuse. When projects fall through because of communal apathy, the only interest people have in my presence derives from my antics. My malapropisms, misunderstandings, dog drama, etc, are mildly entertaining when nothing else is going on in the campo.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Classroom Chaos
To understand Newton's second law, one need only look to a primary school classroom, rather then a textbook. I've begun teaching in the local school two to three days a week, and those days are about all I can handle. From the moment students trickle in, disorder sets in and all attempts to restore order disintegrate before one's eyes.
There's the girl in kindergarten who prefers sharpening pencils over learning to write. No one lends her pencils for fear they are returned a third of the original length with both ends razor sharp. There's another boy who refuses to use any pencil that's not his, and, fortunately for him, his pencil is always "missing." Don't bother lending him one as it is just isn't the same. Then there's the boy who spends more time on top of his chair than properly seated on it. Or the child that roams the passage until dragged back into the classroom. Just yesterday he was seen clinging to the school fence screaming "buy me something!" to his mother at a nearby tienda. The constant barrage of "Ellie come here!" or unending demand for picture inspections leaves a ring in my ears. If of course, they even feel like drawing. "But I don't know how to draw a bean" they cry, and proceed to do something they do know how to do, like karate kicks or paper airplanes. One can't forget the discovery of lice and interruption of class for head inspections. Or learning in the middle of explaining possessives that a girl has had a baby songbird zipped up in her backpack since she arrived at school that morning. Any attempt to run an orderly class is punctuated every thirty seconds by four kids requesting bathroom or water breaks. At any given time nearly a quarter of the class is out of their seats, and those remaining seated have minds wandering outside the room anyways.
Chaos feeds chaos and it escalates into a self-feeding frenzy. They chat so I talk louder, as do they, and the orderly lesson spirals into a shouting match. While trying to perform a puppet act for first graders I grew angry and distraught at how many children snuck behind the curtain only to grin and shriek "Ahhh Elizabeth!" Already aware of how ridiculous the situation was, I popped my head over the curtain, and harshly scolded them for not respecting "Plantuna" the flower. As the shrieks and chatter ensued I was left contemplating the waste of a precious sock.
To be fair, the disorder has its entertainment value. When I don't want to wring their necks, I do love a lot of the children and their antics. The lack of socially-placed thought filters ensures anything can and will be said (such as the call of attention to my "hairy" arms). It's refreshing to see minds not yet molded or governed by the politics of social behavior or rules of etiquette. If nothing, the ridiculousness is immensely amusing. After reciting the "Little Plant" song numerous times as a group, one of my favorites confidently insisted he be the first to perform. His self-assurance morphed into confusion on the first and most obvious line "I'm a little...wait, what am I again?" His furrowed brow and terrified befuddlement only added to the humor.
In part, I blame the poor behavior of the students, especially the teenagers, on my being a young female. The fact that it is mainly teenage and younger boys who demonstrate a lack of respect implicates such. It doesn't help either, that I lack of the authoritative aura of the other teachers. I live among these kids, and many see me on a daily basis. I've found those most troublesome are ones that I was friends and acquaintances with before my teaching days. Unlike the other teachers that disappear after class, I remain and interact. That this familiarity would hinder my teaching became apparent during my first English class with the first graders. I grew confused after repeating salutations and hearing the kids join into a chorus of "sappo macho!" Later I was horrified to learn that "sappo macho" is the nickname of a drunk who had been molesting me at recent public events. This much I gleaned from the intelligible bits of a friend's explanation of the name, only discernible when she wasn't doubled over in laughter. Admittedly it makes an amusing story but it illustrated just how much I was in the public eye and continual presence of students.
As a whole however, however, the lack of respect and discipline is the fault of the parents who fail to teach their children better. A friend explained that people here don't discipline their children or reinforce notions of respect. The chaos of my classes is mirrored to a lesser degree with other teacher's classes. These children just don't know how to be self-disciplined and mentally focused. Most of them (boys especially) will live off of their brawn, not brains. To remain mentally focused is a difficult task for those accustomed to almost entirely physical, not mental labor. They haven't built up their mental endurance to match their level of physical endurance. Without example or training from parents, they never will.
The over stimulation of class time leaves me tense like an over wound spring and forces my retreat to my house where I cut off all human interaction to unwind and decompress. Yet, it would be more than worthwhile if I thought the children were benefitting from my frazzled state, particularly out of the environmental education (more so than English). While the first graders scrambled to collect trash in the plaza one boy sat indifferently on a rock. He just "wasn't interested" in participating. I repeated my message from class, that trash affects a plant's ability to grow and live happily. Why then "was all the grass over there still alive," he questioned. Although benign, the skepticism of his smile cut deeply. I've seen those disbelieving smiles many times in class- I know them well. They carry more weight than words, because they leave opinion unsaid, only implied. To verbalize such is a waste of his or her time because nothing can be changed. Those smiles feed my doubt: the disconcerting notion that nothing can be said or done on my part to change those minds.
There's the girl in kindergarten who prefers sharpening pencils over learning to write. No one lends her pencils for fear they are returned a third of the original length with both ends razor sharp. There's another boy who refuses to use any pencil that's not his, and, fortunately for him, his pencil is always "missing." Don't bother lending him one as it is just isn't the same. Then there's the boy who spends more time on top of his chair than properly seated on it. Or the child that roams the passage until dragged back into the classroom. Just yesterday he was seen clinging to the school fence screaming "buy me something!" to his mother at a nearby tienda. The constant barrage of "Ellie come here!" or unending demand for picture inspections leaves a ring in my ears. If of course, they even feel like drawing. "But I don't know how to draw a bean" they cry, and proceed to do something they do know how to do, like karate kicks or paper airplanes. One can't forget the discovery of lice and interruption of class for head inspections. Or learning in the middle of explaining possessives that a girl has had a baby songbird zipped up in her backpack since she arrived at school that morning. Any attempt to run an orderly class is punctuated every thirty seconds by four kids requesting bathroom or water breaks. At any given time nearly a quarter of the class is out of their seats, and those remaining seated have minds wandering outside the room anyways.
Chaos feeds chaos and it escalates into a self-feeding frenzy. They chat so I talk louder, as do they, and the orderly lesson spirals into a shouting match. While trying to perform a puppet act for first graders I grew angry and distraught at how many children snuck behind the curtain only to grin and shriek "Ahhh Elizabeth!" Already aware of how ridiculous the situation was, I popped my head over the curtain, and harshly scolded them for not respecting "Plantuna" the flower. As the shrieks and chatter ensued I was left contemplating the waste of a precious sock.
To be fair, the disorder has its entertainment value. When I don't want to wring their necks, I do love a lot of the children and their antics. The lack of socially-placed thought filters ensures anything can and will be said (such as the call of attention to my "hairy" arms). It's refreshing to see minds not yet molded or governed by the politics of social behavior or rules of etiquette. If nothing, the ridiculousness is immensely amusing. After reciting the "Little Plant" song numerous times as a group, one of my favorites confidently insisted he be the first to perform. His self-assurance morphed into confusion on the first and most obvious line "I'm a little...wait, what am I again?" His furrowed brow and terrified befuddlement only added to the humor.
In part, I blame the poor behavior of the students, especially the teenagers, on my being a young female. The fact that it is mainly teenage and younger boys who demonstrate a lack of respect implicates such. It doesn't help either, that I lack of the authoritative aura of the other teachers. I live among these kids, and many see me on a daily basis. I've found those most troublesome are ones that I was friends and acquaintances with before my teaching days. Unlike the other teachers that disappear after class, I remain and interact. That this familiarity would hinder my teaching became apparent during my first English class with the first graders. I grew confused after repeating salutations and hearing the kids join into a chorus of "sappo macho!" Later I was horrified to learn that "sappo macho" is the nickname of a drunk who had been molesting me at recent public events. This much I gleaned from the intelligible bits of a friend's explanation of the name, only discernible when she wasn't doubled over in laughter. Admittedly it makes an amusing story but it illustrated just how much I was in the public eye and continual presence of students.
As a whole however, however, the lack of respect and discipline is the fault of the parents who fail to teach their children better. A friend explained that people here don't discipline their children or reinforce notions of respect. The chaos of my classes is mirrored to a lesser degree with other teacher's classes. These children just don't know how to be self-disciplined and mentally focused. Most of them (boys especially) will live off of their brawn, not brains. To remain mentally focused is a difficult task for those accustomed to almost entirely physical, not mental labor. They haven't built up their mental endurance to match their level of physical endurance. Without example or training from parents, they never will.
The over stimulation of class time leaves me tense like an over wound spring and forces my retreat to my house where I cut off all human interaction to unwind and decompress. Yet, it would be more than worthwhile if I thought the children were benefitting from my frazzled state, particularly out of the environmental education (more so than English). While the first graders scrambled to collect trash in the plaza one boy sat indifferently on a rock. He just "wasn't interested" in participating. I repeated my message from class, that trash affects a plant's ability to grow and live happily. Why then "was all the grass over there still alive," he questioned. Although benign, the skepticism of his smile cut deeply. I've seen those disbelieving smiles many times in class- I know them well. They carry more weight than words, because they leave opinion unsaid, only implied. To verbalize such is a waste of his or her time because nothing can be changed. Those smiles feed my doubt: the disconcerting notion that nothing can be said or done on my part to change those minds.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Development of a People
One of the chief frustrations of working with campesinos (country folk) is their overall lack of critical thinking skills that I regarded as common sense, basic for survival. In January I took a woman from my community to a Peace Corps seminar on project management and leadership. Among the topics addressed were identifying personal values, using schedules, prioritizing, organizing, and identifying and achieving of goals. As basic and necessary as these topics are, they were foreign and challenging for almost all the Panamanians present. As one frustrated volunteer said, ¨It feels like we are teaching them how to be adults.¨
I myself was disillusioned as my community member failed to grasp simple concepts in spite of my lengthy attempts to help. She tended to wander into vague generalities and couldn´t form concrete and specific ideas. While identifying goals for our conservation group, she always jumped to the big picture– the vague and idealistic dream. Till the end she couldn´t understand the component parts, or the concrete and specific goals, that must be identified and achieved one–by–one to make dream a reality.
Another volunteer and I were left exasperated after we spent over an hour with Panamanians preparing a speech, and its final delivery was at best impromptu, if not totally chaotic. They couldn´t organize their thoughts, failed to follow an assigned outline, and wandered off topic frequently. Although I am sure the seminar helped in little ways, I was left wondering whether these skills would be put into practice or remain in print, on papers destined for kindling. Although she eagerly filled out her provided yearly planner with such tasks as ¨prepare lunch¨and ¨wash clothes,¨ it seemed those would be the first and last items 2009 would ever see.
This is not, of course, the first time I had noticed such deficiencies in these basic life skills. The vast majority of problems within our conservation group are due to failures in organization, planning, and a lack of critically thinking things through. Often forgetting to address present problems, the members jump to future vague pursuits without the necessary forethought, and consequently add to the mountain of issues they already face. Begun without the security of a written contract, our viveros now house over 3,000 trees that were not sold to hydroelectric companies as promised, and can now only grow roots into the ground, becoming more unfit for even reforestation. Problems accumulated so quietly and stealthily that the livelyhood of the vivero is under question.
At the heart of this deficiency of skills is both the lack of education and the overwhelming failure of the Panamanian educational system. Most campesinos do not continue schooling past primary (elementary) school, as I learned was true of my community member. High school, or colegio, is for those lucky enough to have families that value education and can bear the additional financial burden. Even then, colegio is largely vocational and focused on single–subject areas, and students do not develop much for critical thinking. University is for the ambitious who leave only to return to their hometowns when necessity dictates.
But a high school or university degree does not guarantee the development of active thinking abilities, as I am slowly learning. Rather, education here is based on passive thinking–memorization and regurgitation. What is written on the board is to be copied on paper and in memory, and certainly not questioned. Things are as they are because it is so, and rarely is the crucial ¨why¨addressed. As I clumsily attempted in broken Spanish to explain simple addition to one girl, I quickly discovered she had merely copied the problems from the board and the teacher never explained the process or reason behind it. Her uninterest was evident in her vacantly wandering eyes, for she didn´t care to focus, and was only waiting for me to arrive at the easily memorizable answer. If the why and how components of concepts and ideas were actually valued in school, these children might grow up understanding the processes and reason behind what is otherwise dismissed ¨because it is so.¨ Even then, such improvements risk falling into the same vicious cycle of passive memorization and recitation: the change must be more radical.
The failures of the Panamanian educational system are evident even in its supposed success stories. There were two university–educated Panamanian women at our seminar who were quite knowledgable of the subjects at hand. Yet, at times, they were stumped by simple concepts and acted on whims and inclinations without addressing the ramifications of their decisions.
Blame for the vivero´s undesirable sitation lies more heavily on the government agencies than group members themselves. Panamanians, like most Latin Americans, are very title–conscious, and brandish their university–obtained titles whenever opportunity affords. Government agencies staff a fair share of university graduates, but even these elite seem just as prone to make the same mistakes as their less–educated counterparts. Personal observation has lead me to conclude that most government–initiated projects are quick–fixes that produce short–term benefits, but lack long–term forethought and planning.
ANAM, the Panamanian version of our EPA, initiated the vivero project in my community and in numerous others in the area. They overextended, failed to obtain contracts amd follow–through, failed to train participants, and have consequently left most promises unfulfilled. All of this appears to be due to an egregious lack of forethought. All volunteers were told during training that government agencies most desired volunteers to train Panamanians in leadership and resource utilization (especially how to work with agencies). Why this is not approached in school, and why I should encourage Panamanians to rely on agency workers who themselves lack these basic skills, is beyond me.
It is commonly noted that the American educational system is heavily entrenched in the notion of independent and critical thought. While only its flaws and shortcomings were ever evident to me as a student, as an adult I respect its strengths and those flaws that seem so monumental at one time now pale in comparison to the weaknesses of third–world education. Once a student´s burden but now an adult´s blessing, the development of active thinking serves one in more ways than can be illustrated or demonstrated by an exam in class. I am thankful for having been asked ¨why do you think this is so¨and ¨what would you do,¨ instead of being thrown an answer and directed to commit it to memory. Being only a year out of college, the details and facts I memorized are already fading out of memory, but the concepts and method of thought remains strong. Who would have thought (for I certainly hadn´t), that by explaining why two plus two equals four, and then asking me how I would approach a two–digit summation, my elementary school teacher was preparing me for more than just the next grade but for the next stage of life– adulthood.
While waiting for lunch at the seminar, I was struck by the comment of a weary volunteer. A transfer from Bolivia, she was amazed at how so small a nation (three million people) with relative wealth (from the canal) just ¨couldn´t get it together.¨ After witnessing the failure of agencies and community members, I had to agree. It appears to me that the only sustainable means of doing so would require a complete overhaul of the current educational system and gradual introduction of active and critical thinking skills. The roots of the problem lie deep, for how you are taught molds how you think, and how you think shapes how you live. If Panama is to develop as a nation, it must first develop as a people – for a nation is only as developed as its people.
I myself was disillusioned as my community member failed to grasp simple concepts in spite of my lengthy attempts to help. She tended to wander into vague generalities and couldn´t form concrete and specific ideas. While identifying goals for our conservation group, she always jumped to the big picture– the vague and idealistic dream. Till the end she couldn´t understand the component parts, or the concrete and specific goals, that must be identified and achieved one–by–one to make dream a reality.
Another volunteer and I were left exasperated after we spent over an hour with Panamanians preparing a speech, and its final delivery was at best impromptu, if not totally chaotic. They couldn´t organize their thoughts, failed to follow an assigned outline, and wandered off topic frequently. Although I am sure the seminar helped in little ways, I was left wondering whether these skills would be put into practice or remain in print, on papers destined for kindling. Although she eagerly filled out her provided yearly planner with such tasks as ¨prepare lunch¨and ¨wash clothes,¨ it seemed those would be the first and last items 2009 would ever see.
This is not, of course, the first time I had noticed such deficiencies in these basic life skills. The vast majority of problems within our conservation group are due to failures in organization, planning, and a lack of critically thinking things through. Often forgetting to address present problems, the members jump to future vague pursuits without the necessary forethought, and consequently add to the mountain of issues they already face. Begun without the security of a written contract, our viveros now house over 3,000 trees that were not sold to hydroelectric companies as promised, and can now only grow roots into the ground, becoming more unfit for even reforestation. Problems accumulated so quietly and stealthily that the livelyhood of the vivero is under question.
At the heart of this deficiency of skills is both the lack of education and the overwhelming failure of the Panamanian educational system. Most campesinos do not continue schooling past primary (elementary) school, as I learned was true of my community member. High school, or colegio, is for those lucky enough to have families that value education and can bear the additional financial burden. Even then, colegio is largely vocational and focused on single–subject areas, and students do not develop much for critical thinking. University is for the ambitious who leave only to return to their hometowns when necessity dictates.
But a high school or university degree does not guarantee the development of active thinking abilities, as I am slowly learning. Rather, education here is based on passive thinking–memorization and regurgitation. What is written on the board is to be copied on paper and in memory, and certainly not questioned. Things are as they are because it is so, and rarely is the crucial ¨why¨addressed. As I clumsily attempted in broken Spanish to explain simple addition to one girl, I quickly discovered she had merely copied the problems from the board and the teacher never explained the process or reason behind it. Her uninterest was evident in her vacantly wandering eyes, for she didn´t care to focus, and was only waiting for me to arrive at the easily memorizable answer. If the why and how components of concepts and ideas were actually valued in school, these children might grow up understanding the processes and reason behind what is otherwise dismissed ¨because it is so.¨ Even then, such improvements risk falling into the same vicious cycle of passive memorization and recitation: the change must be more radical.
The failures of the Panamanian educational system are evident even in its supposed success stories. There were two university–educated Panamanian women at our seminar who were quite knowledgable of the subjects at hand. Yet, at times, they were stumped by simple concepts and acted on whims and inclinations without addressing the ramifications of their decisions.
Blame for the vivero´s undesirable sitation lies more heavily on the government agencies than group members themselves. Panamanians, like most Latin Americans, are very title–conscious, and brandish their university–obtained titles whenever opportunity affords. Government agencies staff a fair share of university graduates, but even these elite seem just as prone to make the same mistakes as their less–educated counterparts. Personal observation has lead me to conclude that most government–initiated projects are quick–fixes that produce short–term benefits, but lack long–term forethought and planning.
ANAM, the Panamanian version of our EPA, initiated the vivero project in my community and in numerous others in the area. They overextended, failed to obtain contracts amd follow–through, failed to train participants, and have consequently left most promises unfulfilled. All of this appears to be due to an egregious lack of forethought. All volunteers were told during training that government agencies most desired volunteers to train Panamanians in leadership and resource utilization (especially how to work with agencies). Why this is not approached in school, and why I should encourage Panamanians to rely on agency workers who themselves lack these basic skills, is beyond me.
It is commonly noted that the American educational system is heavily entrenched in the notion of independent and critical thought. While only its flaws and shortcomings were ever evident to me as a student, as an adult I respect its strengths and those flaws that seem so monumental at one time now pale in comparison to the weaknesses of third–world education. Once a student´s burden but now an adult´s blessing, the development of active thinking serves one in more ways than can be illustrated or demonstrated by an exam in class. I am thankful for having been asked ¨why do you think this is so¨and ¨what would you do,¨ instead of being thrown an answer and directed to commit it to memory. Being only a year out of college, the details and facts I memorized are already fading out of memory, but the concepts and method of thought remains strong. Who would have thought (for I certainly hadn´t), that by explaining why two plus two equals four, and then asking me how I would approach a two–digit summation, my elementary school teacher was preparing me for more than just the next grade but for the next stage of life– adulthood.
While waiting for lunch at the seminar, I was struck by the comment of a weary volunteer. A transfer from Bolivia, she was amazed at how so small a nation (three million people) with relative wealth (from the canal) just ¨couldn´t get it together.¨ After witnessing the failure of agencies and community members, I had to agree. It appears to me that the only sustainable means of doing so would require a complete overhaul of the current educational system and gradual introduction of active and critical thinking skills. The roots of the problem lie deep, for how you are taught molds how you think, and how you think shapes how you live. If Panama is to develop as a nation, it must first develop as a people – for a nation is only as developed as its people.
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