Written by: Stephanie Ogowa
I sit down for a quick breakfast of fresh fruits before gathering my materials for the day´s classes and heading out the door. As I walk through the cobblestone streets towards the school, I go through the day´s agenda in my head while greeting the townspeople as I pass. Today, I have Group A's fourth, fifth and sixth graders. In the previous class, I taught the basic greetings to the fourth and fifth grade classes. The sixth graders were a bit more advanced, so we had gone on to conversation skills. In my arms I carry my planner, a CD of German punk music, and two carrots. I arrive at the school, walking through the basketball court where the first graders are having P.E. class. They are in the middle of a racing game across the court and I have to dodge 20 sprinting little children as I make my way to my first class.
The fourth graders greet me with a resounding "Good morning!" as I enter the room. I beam and remember how differently I was received just a few weeks ago. At that time, I had stood in front of a class of 30 kids with about 5 days of Spanish lessons under my belt and zero experience of teaching English. The children had all looked at me with curious eyes, whispering to one another in what I would later learn was their native Tzutu´jil tongue. When they handed me six of these classes in a school where not a single person spoke English, I thought, what did I get myself into?
A Typical Day Photographs
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On this morning, the moment that I walk in all of their eyes are glued to the carrots in my hand. "Para nosotros?" – "For us?" they ask. By now, they are accustomed to me bringing in random objects for class, so they are all excitedly discussing the prospect of receiving snacks. I explain to them that the carrots are not for eating, but rather for a game of telephone. So, I put in the CD and hit it on full-blast to start the game. They really get into it, frantically passing the carrots from teammate to teammate. And when the music stops, the class gets quiet as the two holding the "telephones" make a conversation with the material I taught them in the previous classes. If the conversation is successfully completed, I place their respective race car one notch ahead on the race track. Before I know it, the 45 minutes are up and I have to move on to my next class. But when I get my carrots back, there are missing bits and pieces showing teeth marks from various hungry kids. I can´t help but laugh and scold them at the same time. My next two classes are just as loud and crazy, but the kids have fun and I walk home with a tired smile on my face.
By the time I get home, I can smell the aromas of lunch wafting through the house. I feel fortunate for having such a wonderful host mother who loves cooking. The meals are usually made up of tortillas, beans, vegetables, and chicken, but there is nothing like the traditional green hot sauce that puts a kick in every bite. The table is usually crowded with the father, mother, three children, me, and sometimes another student from the Spanish language school. For me, it is a unique living arrangement because the host father is the director of the language school, and he also works with the primary school where I teach English. The conversation at the table today is about a project that has been started in order to build a new pathway to the primary school. Currently, the students and teachers have to climb a precarious walkway of rocks and dirt in order to reach the school. I tell him the good news that, thanks to numerous generous donors back in my hometown, there is now enough money to start building the pathway. I doubt that the project will be completed before I leave, but it’s a nice feeling to know that the kids won’t have to climb such a dangerous hill for much longer.
After lunch, I go to my room and try to finish my homework before my Spanish class which starts in 45 minutes. After I complete the few assignments, I walk to the garden for class. Each student has their own teacher, and classes are held under the shade of bungalows in a garden overlooking the lake. My class lasts from 2 o'clock until 6 o'clock with a snack break in the middle. Today, my teacher and I go over the homework and then begin with the past tense. I still can't believe how much I've learned in these past couple of weeks. Just a short while ago, I was struggling to properly introduce myself in front of my English students. And now I understand most basic conversations in the streets. By the end of class, the sun is setting and I am getting sleepy. As always, I'm assigned with more homework for class the next afternoon. I walk back to the house where little Elenita and Francisco are watching cartoons in the small living room. I plop down next to Elenita who snuggles up next to me, chewing her hair, eyes glued to the television. I try to process what Bart and Homer Simpson are saying and can't get over how strange it is to hear it dubbed over in Spanish. The mother calls us to dinner and the entire family sits down for a dinner. Tonight, we are having my favourite meal of fried eggs with salsa, refried beans, the local town cheese and tortillas. My host mother is amazing.
By the time 9 o'clock rolls around, I'm absolutely exhausted. The children are put to bed and I wind down for the night as well. Tomorrow, I have Group B's fourth, fifth, and sixth graders, and I plan on playing the same game of telephone. I hope that it goes over as well as it did with Group A today. I set my alarm clock to get up a little earlier because I have to go to the market and buy new carrots seeing as the ones from today are being digested in my students' little tummies. I briefly glance over my homework, but decide to put it off until tomorrow. The end of another crazy day, I think to myself as promptly fall asleep.