One of the requirements as part of our curriculum here in Chile is
some volunteer work, or as the university likes to call it, experiential
learning. Some of our choices included Habitat for Humanity type construction
work, teaching and/or coaching at a local elementary school, visiting the
homeless at a local shelter, and other various volunteer opportunities. Never
claiming to be good with people, and certainly not with children (as I am the
youngest sibling and almost youngest cousin, I have very little experience in
the child department), I originally chose the construction type option. As fate
would have it, since the choices were so lopsided in favor of one or two
options we were placed at random, and I was one of five chosen to help
assistant teach at St. Peter's School. When classes were all doled out, I was
given a first and third grade class, both helping the same teacher.
I was more nervous on my first day of
school as a glorified assistant teacher than I ever was as a student. Sure, it
was a bilingual school, but should I talk to the children in English or
Spanish? Should I let this student go to the bathroom if there are two already
there? Man, it's hot in here, I'm sweating. Why are you thinking about
sweating? Why is my handwriting so awful? And so on. It wasn't until the end of
that first class that I realized something: these kids don't care about any of
the things I was worried about, so why should I. They don't care what I look
like or how I talk, although Noshavember has gathered the 'beard' (I use the
term loosely) many a teasing and my accent has been known to confuse
frequently.
Before I go further, I feel the need to
explain my official title when I teach. On day one, the teacher I help had the
students all stand to greet their other teacher. She realized she hadn't caught
my name yet, and after I told her 'JJ' she turned to the class and said,
"Class, can we say good afternoon to Mr. JJ?" Which was then followed
by "GOOD AFTERNOOOON MEESTER JJ!!" And all I could think was how much
fun this semester was going to be.
Other things made my first days better. On
my first day, a first grade girl came up to me with a tissue. At first, I
thought she had used it and intended for me to throw it away for her. However,
I noticed the tissue was clean and still folded. I glanced over at the teacher
who was observing and smiled saying, "it's a gift, dear!" And later,
in the third grade class, a girl who sits at the back came up and showed me a
bracelet she had made out of pipe cleaners. I told her it was very pretty and
handed it back to her, only for her to give it back saying it was for me. It's
difficult to describe the combination of pride, joy, and acceptance that came
with such small gifts. But, suffice it to say that both of them are on the
shelf next to my bed as I type this.
So, what do I actually do? Really not a
whole lot, further contributing to my relatively stress free volunteering. I
cut and hand out things the teacher didn't have time to earlier and I walk
around when the children are doing their activities in their books, the latter
of which has exposed how hesitant I am to punish disobedience and maintain a
quiet room. I guess I'm just a softie, and by now they've caught on! I also do
most of the reading out loud as my teacher wants them to hear a native speaker,
something I wish I could see the results of if twenty Chileans grow up speaking
with long Minnesota "o's" (Hoooola).
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| Just doing my civic duties. That and failing in my attempts to bring back the ruler |
Also, there is a small rivalry between the two first grade classes that are taught in neighboring classrooms. Every few classes, the teacher indulges the kids' competitiveness and lets them come up to the board and tease the other class through the wall. This link shows one such instance, and I crack up every time. If that link doesn't work, try copying and pasting this link into your browser: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VN_rl1WgwgI&feature=youtu.be
No blog post is truly complete without
some ill-informed and biased analysis, and so it is almost out of necessity
that I try to wrap mine and your heads around what seems to be an unhelpful
education system, or at least parts of it. From a broad historical sense,
thousands of students and families have been protesting for years about
improving the educational system. It's been a factor in the last who knows how
many elections (as well as this years) and I'd like to think I've gotten a
glimpse into it's inefficiency, ineffectiveness, etc. For starters, it's
mandatory that the class makes it through the whole textbook during the year,
otherwise the school loses funding. This makes for some hectic classes, as we
often rush through 10 pages of filling in blanks in just one class and is made
even more difficult by my next issue: the country expects these kids to be
geniuses. Just the other day we were talking about differences between ancient
Greek and Roman cultures, social issues about rights of women and well as
differences in the educational system of today. I don't know about you, but I
didn't learn most of that until half way through high school (you might jab
that the key operating word there was 'learn' instead of 'was taught', but my
point still stands nonetheless!) Let me also remind you that this is all in
their second language. The books are all in English and often translated badly
or laid out and designed horribly and not intuitively at all. I will sometimes
be reading a paragraph out loud only to pause and think about what I just said
because it made no sense. And I'd like think I to know, my grammar and sentence
structure.
The point of all this is that I now know
why it's called experiential learning. The kids might be the students in this
situation, but I'd argue that I might be learning just as much. Not only am I
relearning some (un)necessary schooling, but I'm also learning more about
myself. For instance, I find it very difficult to reprimand a child who either
doesn't yet know wrong from right, or is just seeking attention they don't get
from those who should give it like family. Like my parents, I find a stern word
or face to be just as effective, if not more so (also, laps around the school
would be difficult and dangerous, just as they were around the house circa
'98-'08). I'm also learning about the mind of a child, though some would say
I'm already an expert firsthand. Like when someone looks hurt and dejected when
I do eventually tell someone off for being consistently too noisy, all I have
to do is laugh at something they do later and all is forgiven. Every day is
filled with fragile relationships, and I'd like to think I'm having an impact
on their lives. But two hours a week for each grade probably isn't affecting
them much, so I'll take solace in the tremendous amount of learning I've gained
through them.
I've also gained a new level of respect
for any educator. My sister Michaela teaches Spanish to kids back home, and I
always knew she worked hard (as her first years teaching were when I first
started honing my cutting, gluing and grading skills when she brought work over
to watch Viking's games). But the pressure to teach well and to encourage
students to learn comes from everywhere including parents, educational systems,
as well as peers. You have to be always attentive to the needs and/or
complaints of the kids, and your answers to questions have to be simple yet
conclusive as well as as politically correct as possible. I only work four
hours a week and never have to form a lesson plan, can you imagine what actual
teachers go through?? Even so, I get some of the benefits of teaching, as I
literally walk out of the school with a smile on my face every day. I'm fairly
certain I don't want to be an educator, at least not in a school setting. But,
who knows? Mr. JJ does have a nice ring to it.
