Happy Thanksgiving to everyone back home. I spent the day being thankful for the ability to have this experience and for the fact that we are so fortunate enjoys the lives we do. That sounds so cliché but today was intense. I want to go get my law degree and to work in the field of human rights so that I can make a significant impact in the lives of those who are not able to speak for themselves. Getting my degree and putting myself in a position to access those with the power to make changes is central to achieving my goal. But just as crucial is that I have a decent understanding of the issues facing those at the lowest rungs of society and that I know realistically, what is keeping them from changing their situation. My placement in this particular kindergarten is giving me that experience, something that I was not necessarily expecting when I booked my plane ticket. I had prepared myself for the language barrier, for the culture shock, for living with 20 strangers, for food that doesn´t sit well with your stomach, but naively, I had thought that a kindergarten would be a breeze. After all, I have worked with kids in classroom settings since I was 14. But this is different. I am in the midst of children who are not getting the attention that they so rightly deserve to reach even 1/10th of their potential, let alone any more than that. There are children with obvious learning disabilities which will never be addressed. Some of these kindergartners already hate, and I mean
hate school. And who can blame them as screaming and slapping abound when answers are not correct. La profesora frustrates me and my urge is to be angry with her, but when I look at the lack of supplies, the lack of support, the obvious reality that many of these children have home lives which don´t allow them to come to school prepared to learn, I can understand her frustration and impatience. She is teaching what she knows, what she has been taught, what these children will teach others. She is the embodiment of the principal that the key to improving lives is education.
Good education which teaches her to keep order in her class, how to address social issues that her students are having, how to work with dyslexic and autistic children. What an incredible difference in these kids lives a teacher like that would make.
Today I sat with a little girl who obviously has some fine motor issues as she is one of the older ones in the class and she is unable to even begin to form her letters. She was in tears within five minutes of beginning the lesson in which the students were supposed to right words that the teacher put on the board. La profesora came over and screamed at her, telling her not to be so lazy and other things that I didn´t fully understand but certainly got the drift of. This girl, such a sweet, tender soul, was just crushed. And to make matters worse, the other girls were making fun of her. I helped her to practice some letters, not really caring whether she actually formed the words but just desperately wanting her to know that she was a good child, that she was worth something and that her inability to write didn´t make her trash. It was absolutely heartbreaking.
At another point in the day, as the class had once again descended into chaos, I began to randomly write letters on the whiteboard and have children copy them for me. I know it was always a treat to get a chance to write on the chalkboard when I was in school and I think the same was true for these kids. I was able to regain some semblance of order with the threat that students who did not behave would not get a turn at the board. Two of the boys that present the greatest challenge in the class wrote their names on the board when there was not another activity that they had participated in all day. I gave them both a smile and a "muy bueno" and they just beamed....and came back to write their names over and over and over again. That was the first time I had seen one of them act like anything but an animal-literally.
When our driver picked us up at noon, one of the other volunteers that worked in a government sponsored daycare told us of something that happened that day that just chilled my blood. I won´t repeat it here because it is not my place to tell the tale, but it just sort of pushed me over the edge and I spent about ten minutes crying in the bathroom when we got back to the house. To say that is rare for me is an understatement. I guess that being faced with the things that I have long read about, heard about, known existed in the world but never experienced first-hand, was overwhelming. But I actually treasure being able to go through this process so that I can better know how to change these things. And absolutely, today of all days, I am so incredibly thankful for the life we are so blessed to lead, the life that means that though my children will face challenges, they will never be the kind which automatically destin (sp.?) them for a future filled with failure, the kind of life which gives opportunities and choices. Thanksgiving indeed.
After I composed myself from my little crying jag, we had lunch which in Peru as most other Latin cultures, is considered the main meal of the day. As a special treat, the cooks prepared the local delicacy
cuy for us......also known as guinea pig. I made an exception to my no-meat rule to try a piece-a leg I think-and it was actually pretty good. Wyatt devoured his portion and then went around scavenging leftovers he liked it so much. The cooks also gave a nod to our Thanksgiving holiday by cooking turkey for dinner which I did not partake in. It looked nothing like our traditional turkey and it was accompanied by hot applesauce and iceberg salad, but the effort was appreciated.
Some of the volunteers that work with the jail held a sale of handicrafts after lunch which was a fantastic opportunity to get the "feel good while shopping" juices going. The jail here in Ayacucho holds about 1400 men and women though the buildings capacity is supposed to be closer to 700. A great majority of the women, probably around 80%, are jailed for drug trafficking. From what I have been told, rather than being hardened criminals, these are generally women who desperately needed money and accepted a load of cocaine for transport, then being not particularly practiced at what they do, were caught. Since these women obviously had no money to pay off the appropriate authorities, they were incarcerated with sentenced generally in the range of 12-20 years. The women are jailed with their children until the kids are three at which time they must be sent to live with relatives or barring that, to an orphanage. It is not uncommon for both a husband and wife to be jailed at the same time as they are often together when trying to transport the cocaine. This leaves a great many children with no one to care for them and the orphanage is another popular placement for CCS volunteers. Though they are behind bars, the women must still provide for themselves and their children out in the world, so they create beautiful handicrafts which they sell....well, basically anywhere that they can. They have been working overtime creating things which they think the volunteers will like and therefore buy. The detail in these creations is amazing and I did indeed spend quite a few soles on handicrafts. Next week I have been promised that I can go to the jail and meet some of these women for myself which is fantastic as I had been hoping to be placed there originally.
To everyone´s relief I am sure, the internet cafe is about to close so I will head back to the house. Happy Thanksgiving everyone and lets all count our blessings tonight....
Jenny
