After picking up some dinner items from the supermarket last night, I spotted a street vendor marketing a small collection of socks and cloth gloves. As I run almost every other night wearing a pair of miserably abused low-quality gloves, I decided to pick up another pair. The small, older street vendor was affective, as they always are, offering me little gloves for my little hands. Her wrinkled brow creased when I gave her a $2 mil note; the gloves cost $1 mil and she didn't have change in the inconspicuous fanny pack around her waist.
"Watch the things for me, ok?" She requested. "I'll go ask ___ for change." And she dashed off to consult with another street vendor some twenty meters away. Due to the layout of the sidewalk, and the fact that she'd set up right next to columns, I was blocked from her view as I stood over the few lovingly laid out socks and gloves.
I was rather impressed by her show of trust in me - generally people in Chile are very mistrusting of strangers: "if you get swindled by a stranger, shame on you for trusting them." Perhaps the act of entering into a market exchange, a business relationship, means more than a simple trade of goods here; it's certainly true that vendor loyalty is high in Chile. People do generally form a friendly relationship with the small vendors that they frequent.
The camraderie between the vendors (who are there illegally,) is also quite clear: they function rather like a large comunal bank.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
My Contribution
One of the things I treasure most about my time in Santiago is the ability to spend time with my Aunt Flor (Tía Flor), the only one of my mother's siblings to continue the family legacy of pastoral work in the Methodist Church. She's getting on in years, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to be able to share in her wisdoms (and no shortage of crazy stories.) Although I don't necessarily share in her belief, we connect deeply on the issue of values and spiritualism; our way of perceiving and interacting with the world. Her life's work has been in the Methodist church, and moreover, to the needy of Chile, regardless of their creed (and there are some incredible programs she's developed in this aspect) and I wanted to find a way to give to her community as well.
I chose perhaps the most obvious thing I could offer - English. English is mandatory for most university majors; it is taught (with serious deficiency) in almost all primary and secondary schools. One of the main newspapers in Chile reported that having a good working knowledge of English could increase your salary by up to 30%.
Since March I've been giving English lessons/support to kids from the church that were interested (or whose parents were interested). I originally intended to teach people my age as well, but in a tribute to Latin American fatalism and lack of motivation, none of the "jovenes" showed up. I was not particularly surprised. So I've been working with a motley group of 7 to 16 year olds, with drastically different knowledge levels. To start with, it's been an incredible learning experience.
Every Thursday evening at 6 pm I unlock the church where my aunt has been pastor for the past 26 years, and set up shop in the small room that serves the sunday school class. Sometimes the kids are on time, sometimes they're not. Some kids will come that week, other's won't. Apart from class with my two advanced pupils, one of whom has an almost perfect attendance record, I start with the basics and repeat.
I have a lot of things working against me in this small endeavor - varying attendance (so the entire group of students is never on the same page); knowledge of English (from little kids that are only recently reading well in Spanish, and have never taken an English class in their lives, to older kids with years of painfully lacking English lessons); time (I teach only once a week for about forty five minutes, and will be in Chile only till mid July); and my own limitations (I have no idea how to teach English to kids, and minimal experience teaching to a group in general.)
I am lucky to have a room adequate for giving classes, with a whiteboard, benches, and a table. The room has no heater, so often we remain huddled in our coats. And the other day the power to the Church had been shut off to reduce (exorbitantly expensive) energy costs. I was not told, and could not teach in a pitch-black room, so I hosted a very small class in the guest room at my aunt's house. Most of my students, if not all, come from lower class backgrounds with difficult family situations: absent fathers and mothers, interfamily fighting. These issues are small compared to the range of possible evils (i.e., teaching in a conflict zone), but can become quite limiting or disruptive; I can only imagine the hurdles teachers in more desperate areas have to overcome in order to transfer knowledge.
My mainly U.S. education has taught me to value an interactive teaching style; far from the norm around the world. The terrified silence of my otherwise bubbly and affective students at my request that they each introduce themselves in English indicated that speaking out loud individually in class was out place. Some would look down, frozen, and would only squeak a word or two after a minute of my determined prodding. I am pleased to say we have made A LOT of progress in this area. (I realize it's a value judgment to call this "progress," but I've noted that Chilean youth have an incredibly passive grasp of English. They can read and gather general ideas decently well, but speak or put together sentences like a deer caught in the headlights. In my first lessons my most outspoken students would pipe up "in class our teacher makes us translate sentences to Spanish." But Spanish to English? Nope. So I personally opine that the ability, and more importantly, the courage, to practice a language out loud is absolutely invaluable. Speaking is often regarded the most difficult part of learning a new tongue - I would agree.)
So far the basics entail how to introduce oneself, greet people, numbers (what's the big deal with numbers? All of my students seem to nearly equate learning English with learning numbers), colors (also a favorite), likes and dislikes, directions, and we will soon move into family, days of the week, and weather.
It's been really encouraging, and touching, to see students that panicked when I asked for a phrase out loud, (curling their heads into their shoulder and drawing their hands into tense balls in an effort to disappear) grow so comfortable with practicing new things out loud that they volunteer their attempts. Pronunciation has improved markedly (I make an effort to translate all unknown words into Spanish pronunciation: under the word "Name", I write "neim.") We can now play "hot potato" with the numbers, in English, up to thirteen.
Last week I was tempted to cancel classes facing the impossiblity of teaching in a darkened room, and my hesitation to bring students to Tía Flor's house. Only two students had shown up (a very low number; generally the class fluctuates between four and seven). The two brothers (Pablo - 7, no experience, and Ramón - 11, English in school) were brought by their mother. I suggested that we cancel class, and she immediately protested. "Ramón had to repeat a year of school last year, and one of the main reasons was that he failed English. When I picked him up from school a few days ago I found out that he received a 6,8 (out of 7) on an assignment recently. He's doing really well now."
I don't expect to be able to make a huge difference in most of these kid's English skills. Ramón, who has shown impressive dedication and seriousness, may be the exception. Perhaps the most meaningful and lasting thing I can give is not English itself, but more profoundly the skills to learn something new, and the courage and belief in oneself necessary to unlock unseen potential.
I chose perhaps the most obvious thing I could offer - English. English is mandatory for most university majors; it is taught (with serious deficiency) in almost all primary and secondary schools. One of the main newspapers in Chile reported that having a good working knowledge of English could increase your salary by up to 30%.
Since March I've been giving English lessons/support to kids from the church that were interested (or whose parents were interested). I originally intended to teach people my age as well, but in a tribute to Latin American fatalism and lack of motivation, none of the "jovenes" showed up. I was not particularly surprised. So I've been working with a motley group of 7 to 16 year olds, with drastically different knowledge levels. To start with, it's been an incredible learning experience.
Every Thursday evening at 6 pm I unlock the church where my aunt has been pastor for the past 26 years, and set up shop in the small room that serves the sunday school class. Sometimes the kids are on time, sometimes they're not. Some kids will come that week, other's won't. Apart from class with my two advanced pupils, one of whom has an almost perfect attendance record, I start with the basics and repeat.
I have a lot of things working against me in this small endeavor - varying attendance (so the entire group of students is never on the same page); knowledge of English (from little kids that are only recently reading well in Spanish, and have never taken an English class in their lives, to older kids with years of painfully lacking English lessons); time (I teach only once a week for about forty five minutes, and will be in Chile only till mid July); and my own limitations (I have no idea how to teach English to kids, and minimal experience teaching to a group in general.)
I am lucky to have a room adequate for giving classes, with a whiteboard, benches, and a table. The room has no heater, so often we remain huddled in our coats. And the other day the power to the Church had been shut off to reduce (exorbitantly expensive) energy costs. I was not told, and could not teach in a pitch-black room, so I hosted a very small class in the guest room at my aunt's house. Most of my students, if not all, come from lower class backgrounds with difficult family situations: absent fathers and mothers, interfamily fighting. These issues are small compared to the range of possible evils (i.e., teaching in a conflict zone), but can become quite limiting or disruptive; I can only imagine the hurdles teachers in more desperate areas have to overcome in order to transfer knowledge.
My mainly U.S. education has taught me to value an interactive teaching style; far from the norm around the world. The terrified silence of my otherwise bubbly and affective students at my request that they each introduce themselves in English indicated that speaking out loud individually in class was out place. Some would look down, frozen, and would only squeak a word or two after a minute of my determined prodding. I am pleased to say we have made A LOT of progress in this area. (I realize it's a value judgment to call this "progress," but I've noted that Chilean youth have an incredibly passive grasp of English. They can read and gather general ideas decently well, but speak or put together sentences like a deer caught in the headlights. In my first lessons my most outspoken students would pipe up "in class our teacher makes us translate sentences to Spanish." But Spanish to English? Nope. So I personally opine that the ability, and more importantly, the courage, to practice a language out loud is absolutely invaluable. Speaking is often regarded the most difficult part of learning a new tongue - I would agree.)
So far the basics entail how to introduce oneself, greet people, numbers (what's the big deal with numbers? All of my students seem to nearly equate learning English with learning numbers), colors (also a favorite), likes and dislikes, directions, and we will soon move into family, days of the week, and weather.
It's been really encouraging, and touching, to see students that panicked when I asked for a phrase out loud, (curling their heads into their shoulder and drawing their hands into tense balls in an effort to disappear) grow so comfortable with practicing new things out loud that they volunteer their attempts. Pronunciation has improved markedly (I make an effort to translate all unknown words into Spanish pronunciation: under the word "Name", I write "neim.") We can now play "hot potato" with the numbers, in English, up to thirteen.
Last week I was tempted to cancel classes facing the impossiblity of teaching in a darkened room, and my hesitation to bring students to Tía Flor's house. Only two students had shown up (a very low number; generally the class fluctuates between four and seven). The two brothers (Pablo - 7, no experience, and Ramón - 11, English in school) were brought by their mother. I suggested that we cancel class, and she immediately protested. "Ramón had to repeat a year of school last year, and one of the main reasons was that he failed English. When I picked him up from school a few days ago I found out that he received a 6,8 (out of 7) on an assignment recently. He's doing really well now."
I don't expect to be able to make a huge difference in most of these kid's English skills. Ramón, who has shown impressive dedication and seriousness, may be the exception. Perhaps the most meaningful and lasting thing I can give is not English itself, but more profoundly the skills to learn something new, and the courage and belief in oneself necessary to unlock unseen potential.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Everybody's on the same wavelength
A quick comment before I get back to writing a description of the armed conflict/civil war in Sri Lanka (which recently ended after 26 years!)
The Argentina - Colombia football match is on, and a crowd of people from my residence are attentively glued to the television in the common room, watching. Minding my own business, writing my essay, I suddenly hear an outraged roar, beginning with my house-mates downstairs, then joined by the neighbors behind the house, then from dozens of windows and floors of the apartment buildings alongside the residence. The sound of collective dashed hope and disbelief swells and echoes several seconds through the entire block, neighborhood, city for all I know, ending with a few stray "No!!"s.
This can only mean one thing. Judging by the reaction, I can safely say that this one thing is more terrible and acute than a global recession, or the disappearance and certain death of over 200 plane passengers, or dozens of civilian deaths by a suicide bomber or misplaced missile. Argentina has scored a goal.
The Argentina - Colombia football match is on, and a crowd of people from my residence are attentively glued to the television in the common room, watching. Minding my own business, writing my essay, I suddenly hear an outraged roar, beginning with my house-mates downstairs, then joined by the neighbors behind the house, then from dozens of windows and floors of the apartment buildings alongside the residence. The sound of collective dashed hope and disbelief swells and echoes several seconds through the entire block, neighborhood, city for all I know, ending with a few stray "No!!"s.
This can only mean one thing. Judging by the reaction, I can safely say that this one thing is more terrible and acute than a global recession, or the disappearance and certain death of over 200 plane passengers, or dozens of civilian deaths by a suicide bomber or misplaced missile. Argentina has scored a goal.
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