Tuesday: the craziness never really ends; it just takes different forms. On Monday at the end of the school day, we suddenly got word that the teachers without permanent contracts had achieved a settlement, and would not be here on Tuesday because they’d be in the city signing their new contracts, but that this was a process that might require as many as three or four days in some cases because they’d have to produce all kinds of paperwork. Later that evening Paulino told us that it was not easy to be a teacher, that some who were from districts who hadn’t voted for the president would not even be hired. He said, “This isn’t really a democracy, you know.”
The Director Marcelo was caught off guard and hadn’t even had time to send a letter home to the parents. (I’m guessing he should have had a letter ready in anticipation of a settlement, mind you.) He had no idea how he was going to handle all the kids single-handedly the next day. We presented an idea to him of how to use the older students to work with and supervise the younger ones, and assured him we’d be there all day to help as well for which he was grateful. As it turned out, we also had the teacher Bolivar, which helped; that made four of us. Paulino was there as well, but he was hosting the visit of some social security visitors and conducting a meeting for them with people from various villages in his county.
Late Monday afternoon we worked in the computer lab and let the boys – Bolivar, Roberto, Hernan, and Luis - into the lab to enjoy a little Facebook and Youtube time. Suddenly I spotted something fluttering in front of Bolivar’s monitor. He had a nest with two baby green hummingbirds in front of him. We explained that this wasn’t a kind thing to do, to steal two little birds from their mother. He said, “Oh, Luis stole the nest.” Of course, Luis, easily influenced, had given it to Bolivar. Luis is a somewhat sweet and simple grade 6 student, tall for his age, who cannot read or write, and watches cartoons that normally appeal to younger kids. From appearances, he might have an above average awareness of nature.
The boys were very resistant to the idea of giving up their little living toys, but we insisted, got quite fierce about it, and after arguing with them and getting nowhere, we simply ordered Luis to take me to where he’d found the nest so we could put it back and hope that the mother would find them before dark. Bolivar and Roberto began to accompany us, and Bolivar hung over Luis’ shoulder, whispering in his ear, thinking I didn’t understand, but he didn’t realize that body language also speaks. I stopped and ordered them back to the lab while I continued with Luis alone. Again, they were extremely resistant, and when they finally left us Bolivar shot a final instruction at Luis. Luis and I continued a very short distance further and then Luis pointed to the low branches of a sort of scrub cedar and swore that’s where he’d found the nest, and the mother would be sure to return for them there. So we left the nest there, and Luis, looking scared, said he had to go home.
I returned to the computer lab, but Bolivar and Roberto didn’t. I knew something was up, so we locked up shortly afterward, and as we walked back to the hostel I watched for him and spotted him handling something. When he saw that I was watching him he stuffed the something into the branches of a nearby bush. It was clear that he’d told Luis where to leave the nest so he could find it again. I walked straight to him, not in a rush, reached in, and brought out the nest. By now I was becoming really angry, for the risk to the baby hummingbirds as night approached, and the dishonesty and lack of respect that the boys were demonstrating. Deb and I scolded him severely, said that absolutely for sure this would be reported to his parents, and told him how ashamed he should be for being so cruel, selfish and dishonest when he was the “President” of his school. (It bothered me a little that I was scolding a kid whose Mom would kill a chicken and have it prepped and on our plates in a half hour flat, for not caring about two tiny birds, but I ignored that thought.)
I took the nest once again and walked up the hill, much further this time, and found a place in the high branches of a bush that camouflaged them quite well – the same timbre of green. I returned, still incensed, and after a while their cousin Hernan came to apologise for his part in the lie. He called to Roberto, who came and apologised, and to Bolivar who was still hanging back but finally came and also apologised. They tried to convince us that it was Luis’ fault, that he liked to kill birds, that he would catch and eat hummingbirds, and that he was afraid because his mother was very fierce. I told him that was ridiculous, if Luis would try to eat them the baby birds were so tiny they’d get stuck in his teeth.
Deb spent a long time delivering a lesson about taking care of God’s creatures, like his older brother William who is studying to be a veterinarian, and about caring for the environment, and about how the mother needed to cover her babies from the cold at night as well as to feed them, and we humans had no ability to provide food that hummingbird babies can eat, so by stealing them from the mother, we were actually killing them, which was a crime against God. They finally seemed to get it, but I had no confidence that the two little birds would be alive by morning.
Still, in the morning I took Luis, with Marcelo’s permission, up the hill to see if they had survived. He went straight to the tree where he’d left them the night before, and was shocked to find the nest missing – looked all around, and below on the ground. Apparently he hadn’t realized that Bolivar had intentionally duped him into leaving them there so that Bolivar could retrieve them later. I told him to follow me further up the hill to the higher location I’d left them in. Amazingly, although the wind overnight had blown the bush to the point where it even looked different, one bird was still in the nest and with a little search on the ground below, Luis found the other one. Both were a bit energetic, trying to flap their little wings although they were still days away from being able to fly, and probably quite hungry by now. They’d probably survived on the warmth of the nest, which contained bits of cloth and their mother’s down, as well as each other.
Luis led me up over the hill and pointed down an 80 degree cultivated hill into the next valley, to where he’d originally found the nest. He volunteered to go on his own, probably quite aware that it would be a difficult descent and an even worse ascent for me. I agreed, and he went bounding down the hill holding the nest carefully in his hands, through one gully and on to the further one, where he climbed a bit and reached up into a bush on the gully wall. He spent some time carefully securing the nest back in its original location. I took photos of the safe return of the little birds, and Luis climbing back up the hill.
When we got back to the classroom, we reported with pleasure that the birds had survived the night, and that they were safely back where the mother would find them and care for them once again. We built Luis up as the Saviour of the Baby Hummingbirds, and told the class that when they saw a beautiful green hummingbird flying around in coming months, they would know that this was the one of the hummingbirds that Luis had saved, and that they should remember The Story of Luis and the Two Hummingbirds for a long time, even when they were grown up. Then we played several rounds of Twister in English.
That evening Paulino returned with an indigenous leader of the Kitchwa, someone Paulino assured us was a much more powerful person than any elected politician or government official, and his wife and entourage of two, perhaps a friend and/or a driver and younger bodyguard. He didn’t look terribly powerful, and he didn’t speak Spanish much, but he took the time to tell me that the Quechua live in Peru, and that his people here are known as the Kitchwa, with more of an “ee” than an “eh” sound. (Mind you, that could be local accent or dialect, because I’ve heard Josefina say “No si” instead of “No se”, as well. Maybe e’s become i’s locally.) Eventually the group headed back to the city and Paulino spent a little time describing his dealings with a group of thieves who’d recently been caught, after an exciting chase, according to Elvia. Alicides came over, Bolivar the teacher joined us, there was some Pilsener happening, and Bolivar had me taste some “cane liquor” that was basically clear, over-proof rum, but actually quite tasty and with a slight effervescence to it.
On Tuesday we reported early at the school to help Marcelo, and Bolivar as it turned out, supervise “cafecito” for the students who arrive early for some nutrition before school starts. There was a cauldron of hot drink mixed up from a powder enriched with vitamins, calcium and iron, and a cereal bar for each student.
An interesting point that will have my colleagues shaking their heads: the Director Marcelo was further unprepared for this absence of teachers which appears to resemble a walk-out, basically, although not a strike action per se, since the official reason is that it will take them some days to get signed up with their new contracts. Marcelo had no master ring of keys to open the library and the computer lab, etc. Luckily Rosa’s classroom door had been left open, unlike one previous time when she’d been absent and hadn’t left her only door key. This time, the teachers had taken Paulino’s keys with them, and Bolivar seems to have lost the “school president” set that he used to carry around. Marcelo said that he’d lost his own set as well. We were stymied until it suddenly clicked that there were two additional small keys on the piece of red yarn that our hostel room key was on that were about the right size and shape for the padlocks, so I tried them, and voila! We were in.
We wandered around looking to see where we should pitch in, but every class, from the tens down to the ones, was working in notebooks and workbooks, extremely well behaved. There seemed little point upsetting the apple cart, so we began our day in the computer lab. Recess arrived, however, and lasted too long. And the students, who’ve been “practicing” for “carnival” for two weeks already (it doesn’t actually happen until February) began chasing each other all over the schoolyard and the roof of the schoolhouse with mugs and bowls full of water, spray cans full of “carnival foam”, flour, and water balloons. Sometimes they make a mess inside the classrooms, chasing each other in there as well. Deb turned into the dragon lady, and we managed to put the lid on it between the two of us, with no effort from the other two teachers. At one point Deb discovered that the “flour” a student was using was actually stucco cement he’d swiped from the construction workers in the next building.
After recess we had a shortened time with the grade sevens in the computer lab, and just after we’d started with them, Josefina came rushing in and insisted that we come home for lunch right away, at noon. We protested that we’d just started, the lesson time was much more important than the convenience of her lunch schedule, and so on; however, she just insisted that if we didn’t come now, the food would be cold and that they’d be leaving right away for Latacunga. She said, “teach them tomorrow!” It was frustrating, but we decided we could leave the nine grade sevens alone for a few minutes in the lab, rush across the street to eat, and return in a hurry. Josefina wasn’t there. Elvia said the students would be fine without us, but I had my doubts – just as we were leaving, eighteen grade eights showed up insisting that it was their turn in the lab. We had told them earlier that we would work with them next, but we had just got started with the sevens and we had to go to lunch, so we apologised but insisted that they return to their room and wait until we could come and get them. They left finally left with terrible sulking and scowls on their faces that looked like trouble to me.
Sure enough, we got back to find that the grade eight boys had bullied their way into the lab and forced the grade sevens out. Once again, I was furious at the lack of respect, and yelled at them all to leave – they don’t get teachers yelling at them much here, which may help to explain the lack of discipline and stubbornness of some of the students. Marcelo the director is an old softie, and there doesn’t seem to be any form of discipline for any infraction.
After we got the sevens back to the class, we went down to the grade eight class and invited about a third of them, mostly girls, who’d obeyed our wishes and stayed working in their classroom, up to the lab. We told the boys and a couple of girls who’d been with them that they weren’t welcome because they were dishonest and disrespectful, and didn’t deserve to be in the lab being taught by us. They hung around the door, sometimes banging on it, acting entirely angry, whiny and petulant, some giving us puppy-dog eyes, others petulant scowls, and they seemed to believe I would relent, but I was unmoved. I was secretly pleased that we didn’t have to work three to a machine anyway, and be constantly kicking sneaky boys off the machines for opening Facebook instead of studying duolingo with us.
At the end of the morning when they lined up for lunch we had a word with Marcelo, who stood them at attention and chewed them all out for their behaviour and their disrespect to the “voluntarios”, reminding them that we communicate with the “Madrina Pamelita”. He forbade them to play at “carnival” tomorrow. In a situation like this in a Canadian school, administrators can make that call based on the safety of the students with insufficient supervision, so Deb and I suggested it to him, being a little “up to here” with the behaviour of the students during the second half of the morning. He and Bolivar discussed whether they could ask the students to stay home tomorrow until their teachers returned, but decided they couldn’t, and decided to take a chance and hope that the speech would make a difference. We’ll see…
In the late afternoon a new guy arrived. He’s a 28 year old fellow named Dustin Tosi , whose home is in Alaska. He showed up out of the blue with a red beard and a shaved head, having learned about the school and hostel online. He’d tried to email Pam but hadn’t had a reply, but after two months in Colombia he’d spent a few days at the Llullu Llama hostel in Isinlivi and decided to show up here and teach for a while. He left Alaska at the age of 18 and worked in Taiwan teaching for ten years, mostly English, using computers for educational purposes (Yeah! Definitely need him for that here!) and high school math, which will please Paulino who asked me for a little algebra coaching when I’d arrived, but I was reluctant to strain my brain over the language barrier. Now that I’ve taught in Spanish a bit, I might be more willing to try.
Poor Dustin’s timing is a little off, however: he has two more days to help us keep the lid on at the school, maybe the weekend to meet the colegio students and staff, and then he has to find some way to entertain himself until school starts up again on February 18th. He says he might head to Cuenca and come back when he can be useful, but in the meantime we’ll see what he’s made of, helping us to keep the lid on here for the next two days.
Wednesday morning: so far so good, Dustin is happy to begin his day here with Rosa’s grade 2/3/4’s, who were about to endure their second day with no teacher and no supervision. He’s a hit with the kids, since Marcelo hadn’t followed through with our suggestion yesterday that he assign the six responsible grade 9’s to take care of them for at least half the morning, two per grade.
I managed to collect the right sequence of photos for a slideshow that we showed the whole school in the computer lab, in three sessions back-to-back. The grade 8's were forgiven, and got themselves some computer time, including Facebook and Youtube access after they'd worked a sufficient amount of time on Duolingo. The behaviour has been much better today, since yesterday’s speech at the end of the day, and Deb’s dragon-lady impersonation, and the fact that I clamped down tightly today at the first evidence of water balloons and foam – created a collection of confiscated spray cans in the library, reducing one boy to tears until I convinced him that I’d return them after school is over. Paulino decided that will be after the end of term is over, i.e. tomorrow rather than today. I'd collected seven this morning, plus a few water balloons and a mug of water that was about to be thrown. Dustin also told the kids he wouldn't stand for it, which helped, because they are fascinated by him - he's very cool because he can do kung fu (from Taiwan), magic tricks and knows lots of other games children like. Haven’t seen any flour or stucco concrete powder today either, thank goodness.
At recess Paulino called a staff meeting to present Deb’s politely delivered suggestion of a master ring of keys for Marcelo never to let go of, and a back-up even for that. We talked about completing the library culling, and requiring the assistance of the elementary teachers to move that forward, because they're the only ones who can decide which books at their levels should remain, and which should go.
We also spoke about the difficulty of volunteer visitors who want to teach and manage classes but have no way to manage discipline and not enough back-up from the regular teachers. Hasn't been a major issue for us because we have a combined sixty odd years of experience in classrooms, but the pre-"carnival" behaviour was way out of hand, and has been for over a week, until we got fierce about it yesterday.
The teachers who were present, including Rosa's husband who showed up mid-morning to cover her class, thanked us for our suggestions and our efforts at the school.
One more day to keep the lid on before the end of term vacation begins...
Next: Parthian arrows
Wow, what a week you have had! You must be ready for a "break" now. love, M/K
ReplyDelete