See More Love

In reflecting on my first month in Guatemala - I've realized quite a few things.  In one of my first blog posts about my experience teaching here, I wrote about how the classroom chaos I'm experiencing is a Guatemalan phenomenon, and very hard to work with.  I misspoke.  I know better than to generalize behaviors and frustrations to a whole country of people.  The behaviors manifesting in my classroom can be generalized to my school and this community.  The violent behaviors of my kiddos are mirrors of the violence in their homes and this community, but this isn't true of everyone in Guatemala. It can be easy to sink into frustrations about the cycle of life in a slum, and it can be easy to take out my woes by blanket statement-ing.

This being brought to my attention today reminded me of something else - that it can be so easy to focus on the negative.  In talking to people back home and writing my blogs, it's easy to open the floodgates of vent city and talk about all my struggles and fears.  It's easy to talk about my cold showers, my clothes that I rip and ruin on my cement washboard, the kids who strangle and beat each other up, my useless boss, and the gunshots that are part of my nightly ambiance that no longer make me jump.

But didn't I just return from a trip around the US to practice seeing more love in the world? Weren't my 4 months of traveling spent with the daily intention of reporting on the good in the world and the blessings in my life?  I do want to use this blog and this space as an avenue to talk about the tough social truths happening here, and my struggles to combat violence and oppression.  I want to talk about the kids that are falling through the cracks and my fight to figure out how to make a sustainable change in the lives of my striving ninos.

But I don't want these conversations to be confused with me having a horrible time here.  I need to remember to also share how much I actually love my kids.  How I get 20 cheek kisses and 50 hugs every day, and I feel completely loved.  I wake up every morning and watch the sunrise behind a beautiful volcano, and I think about how lucky I am to have the best view in the city.  My afternoons are so peaceful, filled with time to read, play guitar, do yoga and draw. I love the challenge of learning how to teach children love and compassion, and every day I roll up my sleeves and am excited to go into battle - to see if I can successfully make a child feel seen or guide a child in helping a friend.  I adore the women of this cooperative, and love bumping into them in the stairwell and swapping life stories.

Today was an amazing day with my kiddos.  Obstinate-defiant Jhulian decided to become a librarian - he interviewed kids and checked them out books (from our cardboard box library) according to their interests.  My Special Ed Yeremi was so excited about our art project that he made 3 self portraits, and correctly followed all the steps.  My little Orlando wrote his name by himself, and shy little Josue performed in front of the class during our dance party.

Mi clase!

One of my little Yeremi's 3 portraits

This is one of my favorite little buddies, he is always so careful with his art.  This took him 2 hours!

R and R

I have recovered from my crazy week by having a super fun weekend.  Me and my roof girls finally left Guatemala City, and headed for Lake Atitlan.  When I had been through Guatemala before, this was one of my favorite places – and it was great to go back.  My old college friend Amelia and her friend Mara are living in a little town right on the lake, and 5 buses and 1 boat ride later we met up with them.  San Pedro de la Laguna is a beautiful laid-back town – exactly what we needed in our first escape from the roof.  We were mostly excited about access to delicious food, something outside of our rice and beans routine.  We ate Thai food, hummus, pesto, fresh juices, brownies, delicious drinks. . . it was like we’d never eaten before.  I was excited to interact with people from my past life, and as much as I can enjoy the people I live with. .  .there is something to be said for getting to hang out with people by choice.  Amelia and I went through our teacher’s ed program together, and we would just sit in the back of class laughing about everything.  It’s been 5 years since I’ve seen her, but she’s one of those people that you can easily fall into step with and have a great time.  We partied hard, filled our bellies, and got some much needed sunshine and fresh air. Thanks for living in an awesome part of Guatemala Amelia and Mara!  And thanks for hosting us.  Same time next weekend?

Slum Realities

Wow.  Life has really hit hard this week.  If I had to rate this last week on a scale from 1 to “What the hell?” I’d say this week has reached Apocalypse status.  I have had some of the hardest experiences of my life all wrapped up in these last few days.

It started last week, with a pack of brothers.  Me and 2 of my colleagues were walking outside our compound, when these three brothers were so excited to see us!  They were little kiddos, 3-10 years old.  They jumped on us, hugged and kissed us, and were begging for attention.  These were the most love starved children I have ever met.  They also were the filthiest children I have ever met.  One of the volunteers referred to them as feral, and that assessment was pretty accurate.  These poor kiddos scavange for food in the streets, their teeth are rotting out of their head, they are covered in skin wounds and lice, and the little boy climbing on me was soaked in urine. The families in this poverty stricken community look down on these little boys, and outwardly talk about discriminating against them because they are “too poor.” It was absolutely devastating to want to smother these kids in love, but be terrified of touching them at the same time.  I came home feeling horrible about wanting to wash my clothes and check my head for lice. On Monday morning, I found out that these brothers had been enrolled in our school, and I have one in my class.  I am super excited that these kids can have access to the education they deserve, but I also feel like a deer in the headlights wondering how to teach them.

Exhibit B for my tough week: This weekend I was washing dishes on the roof and I heard gunshots, followed by the most horrible sounds of screaming and crying.  A block away from my window, a woman was shot and killed on her way home from church.  Now, if you’re reading this – don’t you start worrying about me.  It was a gang related shooting, and the gangs have a certain respect for the teachers here at the school.  So I’m not in any danger.  But it was so sad to hear the shooting and the devastating aftermath unfolding outside my window. That’s the first death I’ve ever heard, and it was super sobering. It’s so sad that this is a reality that this community and my kiddos live with day to day.  Death is so normalized for them.  There have been a few other shootings since then, and every time I hear a gunshot I realize the harsh truths of living in a slum.  It’s not something I will ever get used to, and it’s so sad to hear a shooting, and then think about who might be dying and who will be missing them forever. That violence is what I see in my classroom every day, kids beating each other to solve problems.  It’s sad to think it’s only a matter of time before they are holding guns instead of fists, and I wonder. . . can I combat this?  Is there a way to infuse these kids with love and compassion?  I have to hope so. 

These shootings were followed by 4 days of horrible teaching.  I know there is a way to teach these adorable monsters, but I still haven’t nailed it yet.  Yesterday, my students had a mutiny.  When I started teaching they all chanted “No!” banging the tables, throwing things, and a few kids ran out of the class. 

Due to this normal chaos, 2 English teachers have quit.  There have been moments where we’ve wondered if the English program can actually continue with so few teachers.  And, to top off my apocalyptic week.  . . the director of the school walked out this morning.  She was new, and started the same day as me.  She came in with the task of helping the teachers teach in more progressive ways, whip the students into shape, and turn the community around.  I have not envied her position.  She came in with her fists in the air, changing rules and dictating the path to love.  While her ideas were great, her approach as an outsider rubbed all the women from the cooperative the wrong way, and she met closed doors.  So, today during school, she packed up and walked out.  We have no principal.  We have no leadership in the school, and we are all at a loss.  I no longer know who my boss is, where I go to with questions or who is here to support me and the other 2 remaining survivors of the English program. 

This week, I have wondered several times if I really meant to choose teaching as my profession. . . .on purpose.  And then at the end of the day, all the students give me hugs and kisses, my narcoleptic kiddo wakes up and does a ballet performance for me, and my little feral buddy shows me his accurately toothless self-portrait and is so excited he gives himself a high five.  And then I remember how much I love kids, and this job, and I buckle down, grit my teeth and decide to fight for this job and my little monsters.  I’m going to do like Tim Gunn says, and “Make it work.”  

Maestra!

Ay Dios Mio! Well, I’ve. . . .survived my first week of school.  I’m here teaching 1^st grade, have I said that yet?  In my classroom I co-teach with Brenda, a Guatemalan teacher.  She’s a super sassy, denim-wearing fashionista, and even with her pumps on, I tower over her. There are so many new and crazy things that have happened this last week, it’s hard to know where to start.

The Guatemalan school system is obviously very different from the systems I am used to.  The standards are very different, and have given us a few laughs.  The math standards don’t include children needing to know how to count, but in math we do need to teach them how to raise their hand, stand up and sit down.  We spent a week and a half going over these standards and other laws here, and my mind nearly exploded from all the Spanish being crammed into the dustiest corners of my brain.

Another challenge this week was setting up our classroom.  I feel like it was an episode of craft wars.  “You get this piece of cardboard, some chalk, and toilet paper.  Create a classroom. . . . GO!”  Luckily my family plays craft wars every year for Christmas, so I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.  But it’s definitely a new, and slightly overwhelming, task to have to create everything you need to teach students.  On our first day, we didn’t have any paper or pencils for the kiddos to use. 

Oh yes, the first day of class. My boss walked by at the end of the day and said I looked like I had been hit by a train.  I told her it was the CRAZIEST day of school I have ever had in my entire life, and she said “Yes, but that was such a good first day for here!”  I have to keep re-calibrating my brain to function within the cultural differences.  It is very normal in Guatemala for students to be wandering around, yelling, interrupting each other, and using violence to solve problems.  These kiddos aren’t intentionally being disrespectful, it’s just the norm here. 

The violence was definitely the hardest for me to see.  Every time a kid was annoyed about something (a wrong look, a mean joke) they would punch each other – the girls and boys.  It was really sad and frustrating to see that, and not have all the language I need to establish a different culture in the class.  I could say a lot, and I certainly told them to stop, but I couldn’t find the words I needed to create the safe space and community I would establish on the first day in the states.  I have also learned that I can’t understand Spanish from angry kids, crying kids, and excited kids.  Emotions mixed with Spanish make it impossible for me to keep up.  So I generally would nod my head, pat their backs and say “Let’s ask Senora Brenda.” 

The kiddos in my class are adorable, but are definitely gonna give me a run for my money.  All the teachers voted that my class is the hardest.  We have 13 boys and 10 girls.  We have 2 special ed kiddos, and there are no special ed services to speak of, so I have to create a system within my class.  We have 2 boys who were held back, 1 boy who is 8 and has never been in school before, 1 boy who doesn’t speak, 1 kiddo who is obstinate-defiant and will not to a single thing ALL day long, and my personal favorite. . . .a narcoleptic.  Poor little Ricardo really is diagnosed Narcoleptic, and falls asleep everywhere!  He just clonks out wherever we are – in the middle of circle time, in the middle of eating his food, he even fell asleep walking down the stairs one day!  While it is sad in the dangerous moments, it makes me laugh when he’s just clonked out in the middle of his lunch.  The poor guy.  And I have no idea how you teach someone who sleeps all the time! His mom did say to splash him with water to wake him up. So basically, I’m going to treat him like a plant - water him, and assume he’ll learn through osmosis.

My kiddos are super sweet, and I’m never short on hugs and love.  But they definitely are gonna make me work for my time here.  Which is good.  I said I wanted a challenge.  Ask, and ye shall receive.  

Here's my bare bones classroom

Here it is after our crafting resourcefulness.  The wall won't hold nails or anything, so everything is hot glue gunned to the wall

Mis Alumnos!

Life on a Rooftop

Ever since my mom and I began traveling to Mexico 13 years ago, I have had a love affair with Latin America.  In my travels through Central America and the Dominican Republic, I have always loved the colors, the noises, food on the street, children playing everywhere, and the cadence of Spanish.  My first day in Guatemala, driving through the streets seeing the dogs roaming, hearing women selling Tamales from their wheelbarrows, seeing the colorful cinder block houses with tin roofs, and packing myself into a bus with 200 other people. . . I had a sense of feeling right at home.  But right along with that love, also comes some culture shock.  As a Guatemalteca for the next 6 months, there is definitely a lot I have to get used to!

People here are itty-bitty, and I am a giant.  One of my English teaching buddies is 5’2”, and she said this is the first time in her life she has felt tall.  I live on a rooftop with 7 other people, all working in different capacities throughout the school.  Some are teachers, some are working with the Artisans on their crafts, and some are working in the afterschool tutoring program for community kids.  I definitely love my new family here, but it can be hard all living on a roof together.  We all have our love of travel and helping the world in common, but the personalities are so different!  Included in our group of folk is a woman who leads a professional clown troop, a quiet artist, and a proud Texan who loves liberty.  Definitely a group of characters, with enough stories to last us all the quiet moments on our roof.

While I do love the noises here, it can make sleeping infinitely difficult.  Fireworks are a constant event outside our windows.  Guatemalans use fireworks to celebrate someone’s birthday, the arrival of new puppies, to honor a visiting guest. . . . .and basically to celebrate every day of the week, and every hour of the day and night.  It’s definitely festive, and I’m sure it will soon be sweet lullabies to my ears.

I look forward to the practice of simple living – and by look forward to, I mean that I miss all modern conveniences, and look forward to the time in a few months when it’s normal for me to not have them.  We hand wash all our clothes, showers are quick and cold, and we share rickety bunks with barely enough blankets to go around.  Our ceilings have un-intended sun roofs, which make for breezy sleep. Here's my bedroom. 

A few days ago, one of the girls I live with, Meagan, fell in love with a little street kitten.  She adopted it and brought it up to our roof.  It was adorable!!  But none of us, but Meagan, would touch it.  It had cat lice, crazy eyes, and mewed all the time.  We named the cat “Brittney Flea-Body,” and she stayed with us for a whole 24 hours before we returned her to her cozy street corner.  We reference her often, and reminisce over the fond memories of running away from her and telling her to be quiet. 

I have done a few house visits to spend time getting to know the community, and the amazing hospitality never ceases to amaze me - that families who have hardly enough for themselves, will feed us their food.  It also is always a humbling experience to see families who have only clothes and each other, but are filled with more joy, happiness and love than many families who have more money and things than they know what to do with. 

Part of that hospitality does mean we eat whatever is given to us.  Yesterday, we visited another school, and they cooked us a special soup, consisting of cow tongue, cow intestines, and cow leg nerve.  MMmmm.  I ate my soup, and have been paying for it ever since!  The Guatemalan’s who ate it got an upset stomach – which means it was probably a bad batch - none of my other (maybe smarter) English companions ate the meat and have been fine – but I went all in, and have had the meat sweats for a whole day.  I tend to get a parasite on every trip I’ve been do, but am surprised it happened this soon!  I haven’t kept anything down, and am off to the doc tomorrow for some medicina.  And I will save my future leg nerve and give it to Brittney Flea-Body. 

Brittney Flea-Body, breaking the rules and sitting on the couch.  

 And here is our neighbor's house, with their dog who we have named "Ledge dog." He is always perched precariously on the ledge of their 3 story home, acting as neighborhood lookout. 

Somos Luchadores

I decided to name my blog Concientizacion y Otros Pensamientos mostly because these are  my favorite Spanish words, and also because I feel like it explains my time here.  Concientizacion is a word meaning "consciousness raising" or "awareness." And otros pensamientos means "other thoughts."

Before coming here, I was a ball of chaos and stress.  Jumping between 3 jobs, never quite sure where I would sleep or how I would make my money. And I was so craving mental stimulation!  My change-the-world bones were aching to do something more, be part of something bigger than the routines I was caught in.

As I'm sitting on my windy roof-top home, and thinking about this last week, I feel like my tornado of chaos has landed me in the right spot. I am working for an organization called UPAVIM – Unidos Para Vivir Mejor (United to live better). This is a co-op started by women in the community.The community I live in, La Esperanza (hope!), was created by people escaping the Guatemalan genocide. Originally they just squatted on the land, and eventually gained ownership and began building. Living here, the women were still victims of domestic violence, poverty, and their husbands were active gang members perpetuating the violence they had tried to escape.

The women wanted a better life for themselves and their children, and began by working together on crafts.  Tourists fell in love with their art, and slowly they made money to sustain themselves. It has grown over the last 31 years to become a school for kids 2 months -6^th grade, a community bakery, library, soy factory (complete with soy cookies, milk and ice cream!  Its like they knew me and my lactose intolerance were coming) medical clinic. . . there are scholarship funds they give out to the community for kids to continue their education, and so much more!  This organization is a power house in the community, and these women amaze me.  Some of them still go home to husbands who beat them, one woman’s son was just murdered two weeks ago by a gang member. . .. and they still experience intense tragedies and hardships like these.  But they come every day to fight for a better life.  To make it better for their children.  When the organization started, the women said their husbands beat them more and made fun of them, saying a group of women all getting together were just lesbians.  But once the women could put rice and beans on the table, the men's perspectives started changing.  Angela, whose husband and daughter have both been killed by gangs, said, "It's still a battle we fight, but slowly we are making a difference."  

Before I came, Cris and his cousin Rey got me a book called “Paradise in Ashes.”  It is a book about the Guatemalan Genocide from the 70s and 80s – of which I was completely ignorant to until a week before my trek down here.  This week, I got to hear the women talk about that time of war, and I got goosebumps hearing them speak about the same tragedies and stories of courage I am reading about. It was also very powerful for me to realize that I am working in a place that has been such a light of hope for a community recovering from devastating tragedy. 

When the women speak about their experience, and when I can see how much passion they have to build a better life here (fighting against so much!!) I get incredibly emotional.  A board member from the states is here, and asked the Vice President of UPAVIM what she would like the new board to know.  This woman stood up tall and said,  “Tell them we are women, and we are fighters.”  I feel pretty proud to be part of this community of luchadores.

Here's a video that shows you more of where I am.

Here's part of the town, view from our 4th or 5th story rooftop (we're not sure what floor we live on, there are so many mysterious staircases)

The sunset is beautiful every night behind this volcano

Here's another part of our rooftop.  Our clotheslines, to the right is our herb garden, and then the mountains in the back