Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Ode to awesome students

I've been feeling a little under the weather for the past week or so, and have been pretty bummed about it.

Today when I got to my classroom I was informed that 3 students out of the 12 were out sick. In the end, only 5 of the 12 showed up for class. Two of the students who did show up were out sick last week. One of the students who showed up has studied medicine. We ended up talking about health for 30 minutes.

I learned the following about the 5 students in class today:

One of the girls who was out last week has an enlarged heart and will be receiving open heart surgery in July. The other girl who was out last week is 18 years old and has high blood pressure. One of the boys who came to class today told us that he has 2 of something near his heart that all people are supposed to have 3 of (I didn't know the word, but am thinking maybe valve??). Despite warnings against practicing strenuous sports, he chooses to continue practicing his passion of Tae Kwan Do.

Now, I'm not going to downplay my own health problems, because in my opinion you can't compare burdens, but I was floored by the conversation. And impressed. I am SO impressed with the maturity and strength of my students (the 3 with the health problems are all under 20 years old). My respect levels for them were raised to new levels. I can't stress how much I admire these kids. And these 3 are the ones who are always smiling, laughing, and actively involved in class (and yes the ones who I have to shush the most).

We went on to have a really fun class, reviewing the idioms I taught them last week. We did an activity where we had a real conversation, but every time a person spoke they had to incorporate an idiom into their speech. This is the exact excerpt of one section of the conversation. I could have sworn I had walked in on a comedy routine (even more impressive to consider that this is my intermediate class).

Luis: "I heard through the grapevine that my girlfriend likes girls."
Erika: "Take a chill pill; there are more fish in the sea."
Karla: "Yeah, I'll introduce you to my girlfriends and you'll say, 'this is right up my alley.'"

... after recovering from intense laughter,

Me: "Jesús, your turn..."
Jesús: "Ummm... For me, this is not a piece of cake; I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed." (Jabes, who was in the bathroom, walks back into the room) "Speak of the devil!"

... after recovering from more laughter,

Me: "Jabes, your turn..."
Jabes: "I feel under the weather when I don't have class or homework."
Karla: "Whatever floats your boat..."

I seriously love these kids.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

My future

“To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing
is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom
and the threat of eternal indecision.”

Maya Angelou diagnosed my condition pretty accurately on page 271 of I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Untitled



Today an UTEZ student died.

I learned of the news after giving a one-hour English conversation lesson to a new student who is 48 years old. In his introduction, he made it a point to mention that he was single, to recite his phone number, to tell me I was beautiful, and to ask me if I too was single (among some other less consequential things). I managed to steer the conversation to more manageable topics like soccer and religion, but it didn't totally dissipate my frustration and momentary discomfort.

After checking my watch about 15 or more times, the hour ended, and I cut him off in the middle of a thought to declare that class had ended. I reached across the table pointedly to shake his hand and said, "Nice to meet you." He hesitated, and in that moment I thought he was going to ask for my number. I braced for it.

He looked at me quizzically, "How can I say, 'Que Diós le bendiga?'" ("How do you say, 'May God bless you.'")

Boy, was I mistaken.

After saying bye, I walked into the English office next door and heard the news of the student who had died, apparently in a car accident with his girlfriend. I didn't know him, but hearing the news made me take a step back. It was one of those moments when everything in a split second becomes more simple; when suddenly I see my surroundings through a wider lens; when I realize that life and humanity aren't such crazy, complicated concepts. It was a moment when I saw the face of a fellow (male) teacher, one who is normally the token jovial jokester of the office, crumble into a cave of shock and sadness.

I think that as human beings, we acquire a series of masks throughout our lives, masks that make up what we call our "identity." I have my teacher mask, my foreigner mask, my friend mask, my white girl mask, my American mask, my scholar mask, my sister mask, etc. But the essence of human beings, when all the masks are stripped off, I think, is actually quite the same. At the core of our being, we all crave companionship and love; we all eat food to survive; we all laugh when we're happy and feel pain when we see others suffer or die.

Culture is a mask. I was put off by my student's comments on being single, but I reminded myself that it was a cultural norm. By the end of the lesson, he had taken off that mask and had sent me off with a genuine, heartfelt "God bless."

On my bus ride home from school, I stared pensively out the window thinking of these things. In what felt like slow motion I made eye contact with a weepy-eyed girl inside of a corner store sitting behind the counter waiting blankly for customers who didn't come. I saw an older man, maybe 70 years old, inside his garage, sitting on a bucket, hunched over at an angle of 90 degrees, eyes fixed steadily on the dirt floor below.

A friend recently shared a quote on facebook, "You may forget the one with whom you have laughed, but never the one with whom you have wept." (Kahlil Gibran)

It's true, although tragic; at what time do you feel you know a person better than at their most vulnerable moment?

Call me simplistic or idealistic, but I dare you to get out there and try it yourself; get someone to take off their masks. It is beautiful.