momosmessages

[momosmessages]

Day of Language and other Miscommunications

As I mentioned in my previous post, I returned to the United States last week to attend a friend’s wedding. A few days beforehand, I wrote this post. I had issues with my house’s internet, and therefore, could not post it.

On this blog, I want to share all of my experiences here - both the good and bad. I want this blog, I want to be as real, authentic, and open as possible.

I want share my successes AND my frustrations. I feel that this post shares both.

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“Now I see the mystery of your loneliness .”

― William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well

Today is Monday, April 23, the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth. Here in Barranquilla, it’s celebrated “Language Day.”

Apparently there is another holiday called “English Day”, but it’s in August.

I felt that the meaning behind the word “language” was both fitting and ironic for the events which took place.

Yesterday started off how the day would be - full of miscommunication.

On Monday mornings, Silvia doesn’t have class in the first period, but I do. I always forget this. I think this is a more recent thing though, because I vividly remember this wasn’t a problem when I first moved.

Normally Silvia makes my breakfast. But because she goes to school later, she slept in. When I came out of my room, ready to go to school, she was in the middle of getting ready. Roberto was awake because he will leave the house at the same time as Silvia and I for school. He realized this dilemma  and tried to compensate.

He opened a new bag of milk and then attempted to open my new bag of cereal, “Zucaritas” (Frosted Flakes). I normally don’t eat that for breakfast; I only snack on it throughout the day. I felt bad that he already opened a new bag of milk, so I told him I’d just pour the cereal myself. I ate it with a yogurt drink I had bought the week before, knowing cereal alone would not satisfy my hunger.

When I was almost finished eating, Roberto informed me in broken English that he was leaving and his mom was going in later, because of her schedule. It seemed to me as if she was almost ready to leave, so I decided to wait for her and not walk with Roberto.

And of course, I assumed wrong.

After 10 extra minutes of waiting, I realized my mistake. I then saw no point in walking to school on my own. I was already late, and I knew that my students this period were working on a project. I waited another 5 minutes for her to be ready, and we left together.

By the time we got to school, there was only 15 minutes left of the first period.

This class was the 11th grade Advanced Level, and they were working on career-themed posters in English. The objective was to create a group presentation in English about their career of choice. They had to include what steps one must take to obtain that career, the pros and cons, the salary, etc.

I helped one student who wanted to be a lawyer. She asked me what qualifications she needed to study or work as a lawyer in the United States. I told her she’d first have to take an English level test to prove she’s proficient enough of the language. Then she’d have to take at least a bar examination. It made me remember my privilege as an American citizen.

Unknown to me, this would be my only class of the day. As I entered my second classroom, a group of 8th grade Beginner-Level, the my students just looked at me and all nodded their heads “No” in silence. Another teacher sat at the desk, unaware of my presence and busy taking attendance. And so I slowly retreated, wondering what this was all about.

I met Mentor outside of the teacher’s room. We shook hands.

Whenever I first see him in the morning, he will shake my hand.

After he shook my hand, he told me he was sick. Great.

I asked him what was going on, and if it had something to do with Language Day. He told me that there would be an event in the third period. However, the second period classes were switched with the third period classes.

This meant that I had this period free. So I reminded him of a meeting we had.

Back Story - Social Project or Hidden Imperialism?

As a mandatory element of the Colombia Bilingue program, English Teaching Fellows must create what is called the “Social Project”. It is a project that is meant to help better the community in some way. It can be themed around helping the environment, helping women and children, promoting literacy, etc.

At the beginning of our semesters, all fellows had to write a detailed proposal. We had to include the dates, teacher involvement, the budget, etc.

My proposal was due the day after my first day at my school. From the start I had mixed feelings about this project. I felt like it was  a “White Man’s Burden” to come to a country you barely know, and start telling them what’s best for them, without knowing the community’s needs at all. And as a white person specifically, this made me uncomfortable.

But I did it anyway, because I had to.

I created an event centered around Earth day. I wrote that students would have booths with presentations about how to keep the Earth environmentally friendly. I pictured a student art contest, where students had to create art pieces out of recycled materials. I envisioned students singing songs, or reading poetry about the environment.

But every time I brought it up to Mentor, he would talk about my English Club, or brush it off.

My English club is supposed to be part of my “Cultural Hour” -  another mandatory element of the program.

Last semester’s fellows did not have to create social project as elaborate ours. So the last fellow at my school, who I am often compared to, only did an English Club.

About a month ago, a little before Semana Santa, I reminded Mentor that I needed to begin preparing for my Social Project. He told me that Julio*, a science teacher, already had a project going on that was similar to mine. I felt more comfortable with the idea of working with an already ongoing project, so I told him I’d be happy to help. Mentor told me he’d set up a meeting with me and Julio, but never did.

At this time we were also trying to get the English Club started. Mentor needed to create a permission letter for parents, as well as select certain students for the club. Every time I mentioned English Club, he would say an excuse about how busy he was and would try to work on it the next day.

I first hand how difficult a teacher’s life can be, so I decided to remain patient.I figured I wouldn’t press too much about the Social Project, and let him work on one thing at a time.

But last week RC told me that I needed to start working on my project, pronto. Apparently, my Social Project Proposal was chosen as one of few out of Barranquilla. I even learned today that the Ministry liked my proposal so much, they want to put it in a book for next year’s fellows.

THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANT TO PUT ME IN A BOOK. I REPEAT - THE COLOMBIAN GOVERNMENT WANTS TO PUT ME IN A BOOOOOOK!

This week I am traveling home to attend a close friend’s wedding. Therefore, RC told me she’d come to the school in order to convince my Mentor realize that this was serious. She said she had to observe me in a class anyway, so she’d kill two birds with one stone.

In fact, last week I had not one person but TWO pepole observing my class, at the same time. The other woman, Jinger*, came straight from the Ministry. Afterwards she asked me questions for a survey. Jinger also told me how much the Ministry liked my proposal. This made it feel so much more real!

After the class, RC talked my principal and Julio, stressing the situation. Julio said he was willing to work with me. They planned to have a meeting for Monday, April 23 at 9am.

Back to Earth

And of course, what we didn’t plan for, was the Language Day Event.

In yesterday’s “second” period, the 10th grade girls had created stands outside their auditorium, across from the gym. Every girl was assigned to create a poster featuring a famous artist. One of my favorite students, Jordan*, explained everything to me, because of course, I had no idea what was going on. Her English is amazing, she plays three different instruments, and if I were her age, I’d want to be friends with her.

One table had a box which said: “Classic”  and “Modern”. Students were encouraged to vote for which type of literature they preferred.

A variety of books were laid out across tables. Never in my life had I seen so many Spanish books all at once. I’m just only used to seeing it as a teeny tiny section in a Barnes and Nobles.

Some students got really into it!

It was also super cool to see famous young adult novels in Spanish, such as John Green books, Harry Potter, and the Book Thief.

Student-made posters of famous authors

The gym was decorated with balloons of all colors of the rainbow. Small cut-out alphabet letters hung on string from both sides of the bleachers. Larger cut-out letters spelled “Dia de Idioma” over the Balloon gateway.

Here, students presented poetry, sang and played instruments, and even acted out poems.

Literature has such an immense affect on my own culture.

An 11th grade student performing a poem

It was cool to see for myself how it can have a similar affect on another community that’s so different than my own.

When RC came to the school, these presentations were still going on. At first I couldn’t find Mentor.

Students singing a song

Instead I found Julio, who told me in Spanish (I think) was that we couldn’t have the meeting because of the event. I explained that RC was physically here, and he told me to just talk to Mentor, who in that moment, seemed to come out of nowhere.

Students acting out a poem

I told him RC was here. He just said “No, we changed the meeting to next Friday.”

I just blinked at him with confusion.

“Did you already talk to RC?”

“No.”

“Um, okay. But she’s here?”

“Oh RC is here?”

*Inner face-palm*.

“Yes, she’s here in the principal’s office.”

Mentor then told me how the Ministry sent him an e-mail, saying they would visit next Friday. Even though I told him that morning and last Friday that we had a meeting with RC, he seemed to have fused her and the Ministry together.

So, we went to the principal’s office without Julio.

Now, this part is what makes me most frustrated. In this conversation, I felt like although RC tried to talk to Mentor about my proposal, he only talked about the ideas that HE had. Mentor and I had talked about his ideas the past Friday. I had explained that a lot of his ideas were very similar to my ideas in my proposal.

But again here today, he talked about the project as if these ideas were all new, and just repeated things that RC and I had been saying on repeat. For example, HE even told RC how we “really had to hash out the details of the project”, yet didn’t provide any solutions. And this was the entire reason why RC had come in the first place!!!!

In this conversation I just felt so frustrated. I felt like I couldn’t speak because he just kept talking, and he never asked me to contribute. The only time I spoke was at the end of the meeting, when RC asked me if I had questions.

I just felt so thwarted. Here I was, a 24 year old adult woman, feeling like I’m 12 years old parent was speaking to a teacher for me.

The Ministry had selected ME specifically for my own project, yet he completely overlooked this fact. I knew my RC was trying to politely stick to the facts and be solution oriented.

I hate saying this, but through his actions felt like he was just being a stereotypical man. In my experience in working with men, this happens so often. Also in the past, the men I’ve worked with won’t do something unless they think it’s their idea, which was totally happening now.

At the end of the conversation, I suggested to Mentor that the two of us should meet tomorrow and finalize the details. I said that at home after school, I would reorganize my proposal to fit for May, and he agreed. I said want to have something done before I leave on Thursday.

RC left, I talked with him a little more. I asked him at what time tomorrow he was free to talk more about the proposal. I said I was free tomorrow at fourth period.

But then he then told me at fourth period that the 10th grade would be presenting.

“Tomorrow they’re presenting? Not today?”

“No, today they are presenting.”

“Um okay so are you free tomorrow?”

“Oh no I am not.”

“Okay, so when are you free to go over the proposal once it’s reorganized?”

“Oh, can’t we do it at today’s meeting?”

Every Monday we have a meeting with the other English teachers. They normally speak in Spanish the whole time, but I was determined to have a say this time. I felt it was important to inform the other teachers about my project, since this did involve English. But since I didn’t have a revised proposal and we just talked about this, it didn’t make sense. I explained myself again.

I think after a few times he understood, and we settled on a time on Wednesday instead.

Normally that wouldn’t have made me impatient, but I felt so pissed off inside. We literally had just talked about this, and I felt like my head was spinning in circles.

The following period, the 10th grade really were presenting. I had noticed in the beginning of the morning that they had decorated the Auditorium in red and black. But I didn’t know the purpose of it!

When I returned for the second part of the morning, a red carpet was rolled out. The windows were covered with long strips of red paper.

About a dozen tables lined the inner perimeter, surrounded by students in uniform, and in red and black costumes. Cut-out decorations of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clovers covered the walls, and pop music blasted from the speakers.

I then bumped into one Spanish teacher. She informed me that this was supposed to be a “Casino”. The “games” were like card-games, but based off of literature. She then had one student take me by the arm and led me to a table. She wore a purple blazer over white button down shirt, and half of her face was full of white makeup.  

At this table, students had a deck of cards and poker chips spread out. From what I understood, three people at a time were to pick and flip a card. Whoever had the lowest value card won a poker chip.

If you had a chip, you could use it to bet on other games.

I found one of my co-teachers, JF playing a game. The students had orally told a story, and contestants had to answer a series of written questions about it. JF was so excited about it.

“Here if you win, you win a free book!”

I thought that was pretty neat.

I had also seen the principal and other teachers there, participating in games.

As I walked around the auditorium, a sentimental yet melancholy feeling came over me. This event and it’s atmosphere reminded me of all the events me and my City Year team did. Almost every month we’d have some sort of event, including  two huge events during the year for students and parents. We got so into decorating that we’d plan months in advance.

It made me reminisce on how much fun we had making it, especially because we made it on our own. We had a lot of freedom with our events, and though it was a lot of work, we truly enjoyed it.

A thought dawned on me - that even though I was an experienced, well-equipped and creative event planner, I wouldn’t have the freedom to make my Social Project as awesome as it deserved to be.

In the classroom I feel as though I don’t have much control, because the teachers rarely plan with me. I thought that maybe this would allow me to feel in charge of my time here. I had also thought this about the English Club. But since that isn’t happening either anytime soon.

And once again, I felt powerless. I feel like I have so much potential to help students here, but it’s not being used. And it’s unfair to me, to the students, and to the government.

I left the auditorium and walked to the audio visual room. One of my favorite students, Jessa* told me that she would be presenting there. These were the girls who put on the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade for me. And so, I tried to put on a happy mask over my true feelings.

The room was covered from top to bottom in  constellations. Black, ripped garbage bags had been tapped onto the walls, and string Christmas lights were pinned at the top, and lit all around the room. Jessa and another girl, Joy* welcomed me in white lab coats. On their pockets were names of a Nobel Science winner. There were about a dozen students in the room, and everyone had a specific constellation or planet to explain. Jessa and Joy knew my spanish wasn’t enough to fully understand everyone, so they went around the room with me, translating what every presenter said.

Some girls connected the planets to literature. One talked about a fictional planet from the “I am Number Four” series.

I am always amazed by these girls. They work so hard and always put on incredible presentations.

My takeaway from the day is this:

I love how holidays are celebrated here. It reminds me and encourages me to celebrate every aspect of life. I wish we had a Language Day celebration like this in the United States!

But if having so many celebrations comes with a price, and causes so many mishaps, like schedule changes and missed time,  I think I’d instead take a consistent schedule any day.

[momosmessages]

Culture Differences - Bathrooms

I recently took a short trip back to the United States to attend a friend’s wedding. I had an ultimate blast, and it was a perfect refresher for me to continue my program here.

Like I was afraid I’d be, I am currently a little homesick. Not just for my friends and family, but for the simpler things in life. To me, nothing’s more simple than the human function of using the bathroom, am I right?

Here’s six bathroom differences I’ve noticed and makes me long to once again step foot on American soil.

1. Showers

Here, the only type of shower you can expect is a cold one. Unless of course, you’re in a five star hotel, but that’s another story. The shower in my house now can sometimes be lukewarm, so it is manageable.

In my first place of residency however, the shower was brick ass cold. Think Arctic cold. Think “You Ever Been to Wisconsin?” cold.

I quickly learned the art of jumping under and away from the shower faucet, like a spritely water nymph. The most times I’ve meditated here was in that shower, taking deep breaths every time I had to go under the faucet for over 10 seconds.

In my shower in New York, “This Is What Hell Feels Like” hot is always the normal shower temperature. I’m a person where when I shower, I usually need to feel a “burning sensation”, otherwise my cleansing doesn’t feel complete.

Showers are usually my form of self care. It’s the one time of day I can normally just be alone. No one in their right mind will come in and disturb you. And the whole purpose of entering that small box of humidified, luxurious steam is to cleanse your body of toxins, both physical and mental. The sole purpose of a shower is to do something to only  HELP YOURSELF!

At home, I really try to make the most of this time. I even have more than one body wash (including scrubs), dependent on my mood. Call me a diva, but after a long stressful day, it’s amazing to smell something different and special, like Bath and Body Works Stress Relief Shower Gel than your normal Dove’s or whatever you use.

Here, I’ve adapted to other forms of self-care, such as writing or playing my ukulele. But nothing ever compares to a nice, long, hot shower at home.

2.  Flushing Toilet Paper is a No-No

The plumbing pipes here are quite fragile. Just like you can expect a cold shower, everyone here expects you to throw out your used toilet paper, instead of flushing it down the toilet. This was such a hard habit to break at first!

I’ve never been so careful about folding my toilet paper before, in the embarrassing case that someone accidentally sees something they’d rather not see in the garbage can.

And yes, I have seen shit.

3. Sometimes, There’s No Toilet Paper

Not allowed to flush toilet paper? No problem! In some public bathrooms there’s not even toilet paper PROVIDED.

For example, in the teacher bathrooms in my school, there’s no toilet paper whatsoever.

At first, I was horrified. I thought everyone just splashed some water from the sink instead.

But then, I noticed that teachers will bring baby wipes or a roll of toilet paper with them to the bathroom. I caught on quickly, and now carry a pack of Baby Wipes everywhere I go. Which leads me to #4.

4. And Sometimes, There’s Not Even Jack Shit

Soap. The mother of all forms of cleanliness. The one thing that even if you need to use the ol’ water trick in absence of toilet paper, can make things right again. In some cases, is . . .  non-existent.

I’ve been told that there’s no soap in most students bathrooms here, in most schools. After I learned this, I immediately stopped giving my students high-fives.

In my house, there’s no hand soap located by the sink. Every time I wash my hands, I just use the bar soap I use to shower. This wasn’t the case in my previous residency, but it is also the case in Silvia’s mother’s house.

In the college where I take Spanish classes, there’s no toilet paper OR soap. Thank God for my baby wipes, which I can also use to clean my hands.

One time I used this bathroom, and happened to bring my Bath and Body Works hand sanitizer (Do you notice a trend for my love of this store?). After I finished my business I stood at the sink, rubbing my “Christmas Cookies” scented sanitizer like it would grant me eternal life. I noticed a younger girl, probably in her mid-teens, come out of a stall.

She walked to the sink adjacent to me and simply ran her hands underneath the faucet. She then stood up straight, looking in the mirror, and began to fix her perfect straight black hair.

She was about to leave the bathroom with germs all over her hands and had not a care in the world!

“Quieres?” I asked her, pointing to the bottle in my hand.

“Que es esto?” she replied, looking at it with a confused look.

I took a deep breath.

“Es . . . como jabon.”

I had no idea what the word for “hand sanitizer” was.

But from a first glance at it, this girl didn’t know what hand sanitizer looks like?

Her confused look dropped into a friendly one. She reached out her hand and took some.

I can’t put soap in all bathrooms I use here, but it felt good to know someone else’s hands were clean. Oh, it’s times like these that remind me of the starfish story.

5. Water, Water . . .  Everywhere?

Sometimes the water pressure here isn’t the best thing ever. Often, people need to collect water from the tap or rain water, and will keep it in a bucket or cup. You need to pour water over your hands to wash them in the sink.

For example, in Silvia’s mother’s house, there are giant buckets filled with water in her bathroom. In order to “flush” the toilet, you need to scoop up some water with a bowl and pour it into the toilet. The same concept goes for washing your hands.

6. Cockroaches and Other Critters

You are reading the writing of a master cockroach killer. In the past three months, I can’t say I’m no longer afraid of cockroaches. But I can say I channel that fear into a “Terminator”-like style of coping. I think I’ve killed at least 5 of them - almost all of them found in the bathroom.

It’s not an easy job, but when you’re the only one in the house or awake in the middle of the night, somebody’s gotta do it.

What bugs me the most is that Roberto once told me that I’m the only person who’s ever seen the big cockroaches in the house. (The family had only lived here for one month before I moved in.)

So basically, not only am I the Cockroach Terminator, I’m the Cockroach Whisperer. Greeeaat.

Sometimes I’ll see other bugs too. For example, there’s some sort of beetle thing that’s been living in our medicine cabinet. I tried to kill it at first, but there’s so many things in there, I figured it’s not worth it to disturb it. Especially if it’s doing no harm.

There was also one time, I woke up in the middle of the night with a strong urge to pee. It was one of those moments when you really need sleep, you tell your body “NO”, but no matter how much you try to sleep you can’t stop thinking about it.  And body wins.

I sluggishly got up and walked to the bathroom. As I sat down, ready to do my business, I opened my eyes - only to make direct eye contact with a lizard on the bathroom door. Body 1. Mind 0.

I couldn’t look away. It was the weirdest staring contest I’ve ever had. And I peed the whole time.

Anddd that’s just a fraction of the little things I miss from home.

Again, this a summation of my experiences here.

Granted, not all bathrooms are the same in the United States. In times of desperation, I’ve visited some of the most nasty ass bathrooms in the states (looking at you, Union Square Starbucks).

And in Barranquilla, not all bathrooms are the same. I’ve been to many clean and comfortable bathrooms here.

This adds only a fraction to my overall experience here. I’ve learned to embrace everything, because that’s what makes an experience. When bad days happen, I can just wipe them off and throw them away.

[momosmessages]

Flames and Feathers

It feels as if every week, two or three events take place at my school.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. It’s really more like ONCE. I guess it’s that the majority of the time, I’m not told about them until the morning of, heightening their surprise affect.

Sure, in the United States we have assemblies and pep rallies. But here, events always seem to mess up the schedule, and take place in a more confined, organized manner. Any time there’s an event, our schedule changes. Either the 55 minute periods will be shorter, or we’ll skip one period altogether. In this post I want to highlight the two events which happened last week.

As a reminder, I have four different co-teachers, including my mentor.

THURSDAY

Last Thursday, April 5th, my school celebrated what’s called La Pascua, or Easter Sunday. In the Catholic Church, Easter is the celebration of Jesus’s resurrection. We celebrate the week leading up to Easter Sunday, which is called Holy Week, or Semana Santa. Since Colombia is a Catholic country, all schools have no classes during this period.

Last week, (the week of April 2nd) was the first week after this break. I still don’t know why we held this event on this Thursday. The school held prayer services the week before Semana Santa, so I assumed our observations of Easter were over.

The celebration of Pascua occurred in the third period of the day, around 8:30 am. I was told about this event at the start of the period, after my teacher told me we wouldn’t be doing the lesson which I had prepared. This frustrated me, but I tried to not let it bother me and enjoy the experience.

Usually for school events, the students will gather in their outdoor gym. But for this event, all students stayed within their classrooms. My co-teacher instructed the girls to move their chairs from rows into one big circle facing inward.

This is one of my rowdiest classes, a ninth grade advanced beginner level. So when I watched  these girls obeying orders, moving in one effortless motion without talking, I was speechless.

As they moved into the circle, one girl seamlessly pulled out a white tablecloth as if out of thin air, and placed it on the floor in the middle of the circle. Some girls brought out large 2 liter bottles of soda. Others took out loaves of bread, grapes, a Bible and one metal tray. My co-teacher also took out a big liturgical candle, placed it on the tray, and lit it with a match. All of these items were placed on the tablecloth.

When I was first placed in Barranquilla, I was told that my school was once run entirely by nuns. But now,  the school has only one nun living on the premise, Sister T.

At that moment, Sister T got on the loudspeaker and began was probably the longest prayer I have ever and will ever sit through. And I go to Mass on Sundays.

At first I tried to understand what she was saying. When people speak in Spanish for a long period of time, I always try to keep my brain on and understand at least what is the general talking idea. But after a certain time, my ability to understand just expires, like a car at a parking meter.

I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep up. As I looked around, accepting my language defeat, I noticed almost all of the girls’ eyes were closed. Some had their heads placed on each other’s shoulders. And they SPEAK the language of this prayer!

Even my co-teacher, who isn’t much of a conversationalist, at one point walked out of the room, and back, saying aloud in English “This prayer is too long, I can’t do this.”

Eventually, after what felt like almost waiting for Jesus himself to resurrect, Sister T told teachers to read a prayers from a sheet of paper. The day before, I had seen one religion teacher hand out this sheet of paper, which also included the schedule of the day. I didn’t receive one because I didn’t need to know what was going on, right?

My co-teacher read aloud the prayer at a faster speed than Sister T, yet with genuine passion for the meaning behind it. This took less than two minutes.

When she finished, all of the girls effortlessly pulled out a small, white kitchen candle from their pockets. Casual.

Co-teacher then took a candle from one girl and lit it with the larger candle’s flame in the center. She then gave the small candle back to the girl. The girl then turned to the student next to her, and lit her candle. The students proceeded to light each other’s candles in their sedentary circle, until the motion came back to the first student.

At first, I was in awe. Even though I couldn’t fully understand the prayers, I understood the deep significance behind this action.

It reminded me of when I was an alter server and would serve at weddings. One element of Catholic masses, which not all but many couples have, is when the  bride’s and groom’s mothers separately light a candle. The mothers then combine their individual flames to light a large liturgical candle, symbolizing that the lives they bore will now continue to exist and burn together in life.

But then, after one minute of memory lane, a shock of horror set in.

Fire. Candles. Flames. In a classroom?? I slowly turned my head, as if I were hiding from a killer in a closet in a horror movie, and looking out to see if the coast was clear.

All around the circle, girls were LITERALLY playing with the fire. Some were making their candles touch. Others were waving their hands over their flames. And some ust stared at their candles, taking in the sweet satisfaction of the wax dripping, dropping, onto the plastic desk.

To my relief, my co-teacher soon told the class to blow out their candles. As liturgical music played over the loudspeaker, she passed out sodas, and other girls passed out bread. In the Catholic Church, bread signifies Jesus’ body, and how he sacrificed it for our sins. It felt good to be comforted after a strong, motherly like panic.

I wish I had pictures of this event, but unfortunately, since I didn’t know it was happening, I didn’t have my phone.

As a Catholic, it’s interesting to see the cultural differences in my religion. In the United States, I never celebrated Easter this way, even though I went to Catholic school for the majority of my education. And if we did celebrate it, we probably wouldn’t be allowed to light a flame or use candles inside a classroom!

FRIDAY

The next day’s event wasn’t religious, but cultural.  April 7th is the anniversary Barranquilla. It’s the most important date in Barranquilla culture, since it’s the formation of the city. There’s even a neighborhood here named “7 de abril”!  Therefore, the students celebrated it the day before, on Friday April 6. This year marked the 205th anniversary of Barranquilla, so it was a big deal!

Barranquilla Flag

The day itself was a bit of a whirlwind. Again, the celebration was a surprise. My mentor stopped me on my way to my first class and only told me that the event would take place after third period and that the schedule would change. I didn’t know anything else about it, so I had to roll with the punches.

And rolled, I did.

That day, my classes themselves were actually very bewildering. In my first class, my co- teacher never showed up or even informed me that she wasn’t going to be in school. In my second class, my co-teacher was working on getting his students’ marks in on time. (As a reminder, I work with four different co-teachers, including my Mentor.) Apparently it was the end of a marking period and all teachers had a serious deadline. He sat in the back of the room with some students and didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the class. The other girls were practicing presentations, dancing, or reading over a project they made about Barranquilla.

I wanted to do something to make the class somewhat educational, instead of just letting it be a study period. However, I didn’t want to stop their practicing. I didn’t know what the event would entail, so I was unsure if if they had parts in the event. I asked this to my co-teacher, but he didn’t understand my question, no matter how many different ways or times I explained it.

I realized it wasn’t worth it, for words just got lost in translation. With only ten minutes left, I kind of gave up hope and just watched a few girls dance.

In my third class, I was supposed to teach with my Mentor. But he didn’t show up at all, even though I had seen him in the morning! After waiting for 20 minutes, I realized he wasn’t going to come. So I played “20 Questions” with the girls. They seemed to like it, so it worked out!

In this class, there was one student who would be dancing. When I first entered the room, she was already wearing her dance uniform and some makeup. While we waited for Mentor, all of the other girls helped her apply her extravagant face makeup and did her hair.

I thought it was so sweet how all of the other girls were so quick to helping her. It’s moments like these where I appreciate the culture of an all-girls school. I believe this is how women should act on a daily basis, by helping other women succeed. I’m proud to be part of that sisterhood.

The event was to take place after third period. So when the bell rang, all of the girls rushed out of the room and walked to the gymnasium. Before she left, I managed to snag a picture with the student in costume.

On my way to the gymnasium, I bumped into Mentor. I asked him about class. He said something along the lines of “Oh yes, I was helping some students prepare the decorations, I must have forgotten. Thank you, I’m so sorry!”

This frustrated me alot. This was the first time he had ever done this, but I least expected this kind of action from him. Even if he did need to help other students, I expected he’d at least tell me first. I know things like this happen all the time in schools here. But the fact that every class after the other was chaotic in one day, my cup was about to run over. I tried to not let it bother me and enjoy the event.

The gymnasium was beautifully decorated with balloons and streamers of green, red, and yellow - the colors of the flag of Barranquilla.

Half of the students sat on the “bleachers” on one side of the gym, while the other half sat across cross applesauce on the ground on the other sides. I noticed some teachers sitting in plastic chairs. They said they got them from the chapel, a building adjacent to the gym.

In the chapel, girls from all ages were rehearsing for the event. Some wore traditional Colombian dresses, while others wore the national mustard-yellow soccer jersey. Most of them were from the younger grades, and have only seen me walking around the school. To them, I’m like a shiny new toy. As soon as I entered the room, they all flooded towards me, asking me the typical questions:

“Como te llamas?”

“Hablas espanol?”

“De donde eres?”

“Cuantos anos tienes?”

“TIENES UN NOVIOOOO??!!!”

And the occasional, broken English, “Hi. Can you say, ‘Hola’?”

They were all so cute! I told them my name but also managed to just get my chair and get out of there.

The event began with the singing of the Colombian national anthem. Then, everyone sang Barranquilla’s official anthem. In Colombia, all cities and departments (similar to “states”) have their own official songs.

The principal introduced the MC for the event, a young student from what seemed like 6th grade. She was so cute and confident! She introduced every act.

The event consisted of a series of acts. First, two girls sang a traditional Barranquilla song while two girls danced cumbia.

Then, a group of girls in Colombian soccer jerseys danced to Afro music.

Colombia, and more so in Barranquilla, is a melting pot of cultures. Many people descend from a mixture of African, Spanish, and indigenous cultures. So here, there’s a huge variety of traditional music.

Then, a group of girls read aloud specific historical locations of the city. Every location had its own diorama. While one girl read the history off a sheet of paper, the other one walked around the gym with the diorama. The structures were so well made, I was so proud of them!

After that, another group of girls danced salsa.

Some younger students couldn’t help but to feel the rhythm. This little girl is my hero.

Then, one student sang another traditional song, and another dance group performed.

And last but not least, the high school dance troupe performed. My student from the third group belonged to this group.

They did an amazing job! You could tell how hard they worked.

I also still can’t believe this is a Catholic school. In the United States, this type of dancing would be deemed inappropriate, even in a public school.  Maybe a more liberal public school would have allowed it. However there was one part where the girls literally “turned around, stick it out” and slapped their butts. And that’s a huge no-no.

When the dance finished, one students gave me a pin with the Barranquilla flag colors!

After the event ended, the students had their meal break. A group of girls set up an informal drum circle, and some danced more cumbia.

Even though my classes sucked, it was still really cool to see the students celebrating their city. In the United States, we really don’t have anything similar to this. The closest thing we have is the Fourth of July.

It makes me think what life would be like if we did celebrate cities as well as our cultural heritage. Do we not celebrate cities because we have a history of genocide? In the same vein, Colombia has a similar history too. However, Colombia seems to have treated their indigenous groups with much more kindness and justice. Maybe that’s why they are still able to celebrate the forming of their cities.

I’m for one happy that Barranquilla was formed. Things go wrong and times can get hard. But still, in this moment, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[momosmessages]

Life Update: Living Situation

I know I haven’t posted in a little while. When I talk to people from home, they’ll ask how I’m doing or about my living situation. So here’s a quick update!

The Logistics

For the past month I have lived with a family of four.

My school is in walking distance from where I live, making daily transportation a breeze. The house is located on a street where many buses come, so it’s easy for me to go places. However, I’m still trying to learn where all the buses go, so I may need another month!

In my new dwellings, I have my own room. It’s located at the far most point of the house. What I like and dislike most about it is that is has there’s big window looking out to the back “yard”, letting in sunlight and fresh air.

My favorite feature of the house is it’s back patio. This is where we keep the washing machine and air dry clothes. The family will often sit there during the day, because the house can easily get stuffy. Sitting there, you always feel the the Barranquilla breeze.

Most homes here only have a front or area, which faces the street. I like the back patio better because you can be outside while still having some privacy.

Frustrations

And speaking of privacy,  I’m sometimes frustrated because I have no curtain. During the week it’s generally not an issue, and I feel comfortable changing my clothes or sleeping. But on the weekends when family and friends come to visit, it can be difficult to have solitude. I’ve told Grace this recently and she plans to tell her mom. (As I write this post family friends are in the patio now.)

And since I’m learning Spanish, it can be quite a challenge. Weekends are when I have the most free time. I want to take advantage of this by studying as much as I can. However, I’m a person where I need to study completely alone. I’m always paranoid of someone hearing me pronounce a word or phrase. I know this sounds silly, but it’s just how I feel. I need to think of other ways I can study without a room full of native Spanish speakers hearing me.

I feel like I haven’t been able to write much even because on weekends there’s almost always someone in the patio. When I write or study, I need silence to concentrate. If someone else is talking, I can’t focus, regardless of the language spoken. I’m struggling to find solutions to this issue, and hope I find one soon.

Conoce la familia!

In this family, there’s Silvia*, a social studies teacher at my school, her husband, Juan*, their daughter, Grace*, and their son, Roberto*. Over the past month, I’ve enjoyed getting to know them.

Silvia is a diva. I’ve noticed that’s the norm for Colombian women, especially teachers. For school, she’ll wear large, extravagant earrings, brightly colored lipstick, and of course, height-enhancing shoes. They’re never less than 2 inches high.

All teachers at my school wear platform shoes. I think it’s because many women here are short. Silvia’s shoes are always at least 2 inches high. When she wears them, her height is the same as my nose.

Every morning, this woman will walk to school in these shoes. When class is over for the day, she’ll refuse to walk home, more so because of the hot sun than her shoes. Silvia swears by moto taxis, and sometimes she’ll hitch a ride from another teacher. She claims she doesn’t want to become more “tan”. I think it’s a little ridiculous, since it’s only a five minute walking distance between the school and home.  Still, I give her mad props.

As soon as we get home, we’ll strip to our pjs, and the “fabulous” rests in the closet for another day.

I always choose to walk home.You know, because it’s snowing in New York. In April.

Silvia is also a mom. She is constantly checking in on me, making sure that I’ve eaten.

At first my meals were not included in the rent. Here, regardless of your class, its normal to have hired help clean and cook meals.

Juan’s sister in-law, Ruth*, comes to the house six mornings a week. She will clean the house and make a big lunch for everyone.

In the United States, you only hire help if you have money. The idea of being “waited on” felt so weird, and I told the family I could cook for myself.

I was supposed to be paid the week I moved here. To my luck, the the government failed to pay me on time.  I couldn’t afford groceries, and was forced to have the family’s meals. I was paid two two weeks later, but I ended up loving their food. I’ve learned about traditional Colombian food, that I wouldn’t have otherwise tried. And Ruth is an amazing cook! I’m determined to learn how to make “arroz con coco” before I leave.

Silvia and I walk to school together in the mornings and walk back home in the afternoon. By the time we get back, Ruth is gone for the day. I don’t feel like I’m being “waited on” because we will help ourselves to whatever is in the pot. Silvia and I usually eat lunch together, and then go to our rooms to take a siesta. Like a mom, she puts giant-sized portions on my plate and encourages me to eat.

Silvia mainly speaks Spanish. I say “mainly” because over this past month, she’s acquired a few English words, like “my husband”, “my cousin”, and “shredded cheese”. When we eat, I try to converse with her as much as I can. She’s learned a few English words from me.

If I’m feeling sick, she’ll do anything she can to make me feel better. For example, this week, I had a stomach ache, and made it her priority to spoon feed me medicine. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste yucky.

I’ve also noticed that when she needs me, she’ll call my name out in the most inconvenient times, like when I’m in the bathroom, or when I’m video chatting my mom. Which, in my opinion, is a true trait of a “Mom.”

Silvia also goes to law-school part time three to four days a week. Grace says that to continue school, she may have to give up her teaching job.

I commend Silvia for wearing so many hats, while still looking hella fabulous.

Juan is a dad. He drives a school van/bus for a living, and I will see him least often. Juan is the strong, silent type. Of course there’s times where he’ll enthusiastically educate me on classic Vallenato singers and disco music. One time, he showed me how to make jugo de arbol.

Roberto is 16  years old. And yup, in the same vain as his parents, is a stereotypical teenage boy. His interests include playing Fifa on his PS 4, eating the portions of two adults in one sitting and yet still manages to stay skinny, and listening to American rap. We once bonded over Post Malone’s “Congratulations” - a big game changer in our relationship.

He also once told me that he was now the “cool kid” at his high school because he lived with a “real American.” I was touched. Anything I can do to help others.

Grace is 21 years old. Grace goes to university and studies sociology. She also studies English, and is at least at C1 level. She’s a Sagittarius like me, and it’s really nice to have someone so close to my age. We’ve gone shopping together a few times, had waxings done, and I’ve even met her friends. I sometimes feel guilty because she often plays the “family translator.” Roberto speaks some English, but is more of a B1 level.

I’ve told her multiple times that after time living with me, she could easily become a professional translator. She’s so intelligent and has a big heart. Throughout the week she volunteers at an organization that helps high school students reach their career goals. I know that after she graduates she will help the world even more.

In the one month I’ve lived here, the family includes me in many gatherings. Silvia visits her mother at least twice a week in a neighborhood called La Esmeraldas. The majority of their extended family lives within a five-block radius of her mother’s house. In addition to these weekly outings, I’ve been to one birthday party and one barbecue. Like themselves, their extended family is very warm and friendly.

Living with a family is definitely what I wanted as part of my cultural experience. It has expected and unexpected attributes to both it’s pros and cons list. I’ve laughed with them, sobbed like a baby in front of them, and shared embarrassing moments with them. I know that they are meant to be an integral part of my journey here.

I look forward to knowing this family more throughout these next few months.

*Names have been changed

[momosmessages]

Cultural Differences - School

I have a problem. Every morning when I wake up, there’s one song, and one song only that enters my head - “Another Day Of Sun” from “La La Land”.

No matter where I go or what I do, Except for the rainy season in Fall, it never rains in Barranquilla. And just because I’m me, I may have visualized a full length, break-out, musical number of walking to the tienda one too many times.

La La Land - “Another Day of Sun”

Heck, even my school plays “Walking On Sunshine” by Aly and AJ once a week over the loudspeakers at lunch. They feel me!

I’ve lived here one month and haven’t felt fully immersed until now. Still, I’ve noticed how much the sun affects life here.

In this post I will talk about differences specifically in schools. These are my personal experiences, and so these observations may vary in other cities in Colombia!

1. School Class Times

Here, many things are factored because of weather. (FYI it gets really hot in the afternoon!) Due to the heat, many schools start before sunrise, at about 6:30am and end at 12:15pm.

Classes also take place in shifts. So when students from the morning shift end classes, students in the afternoon arrive. The afternoon shift at my school is from 12:30 to 6:30.

My school, for example, caters to girls from kindergarten through 11th grade. Kindergarten and girls from 6th to 11th grade attend morning classes, and  1st through 5th grade attend school in the afternoon.

I teach 8th through 11th grade, so I work in the mornings. It’s definitely weird to be at work and literally watch the sunrise through the window.

But this works so well for me because I am a morning person, and I have the rest of the day to be productive, or to take a siesta.

When I get home, I’m not even that hungry because the school has a break from 9 to 9:30am. This is considered their “lunch break.” This bewilders me because while half the school day is over, students across America have just started their day.

I also feel like the morning just goes by faster.

In New York, a school day will start at 8:30am and end around 2:30pm. When I was in school, I always felt that the day dragged on, especially after 12 pm.

2. School Buildings and Set-up

What’s great about alot of sun? Natural lighting! In most schools I’ve seen here, hallways are outside and are interconnected. In my school, all classrooms receive sunlight through windows. And since it never rains, most classroom “windows” are just super pretty patterns with no screens! Bugs and mosquitoes aren’t frequent enough for to be a problem in the classrooms. 

In my school, only some rooms have air conditioning, like the teacher’s lounge, the computer room, and some classrooms. If a room does not have AC, it has at least ten fans connected to the top parts of the wall, distributing a cool breeze throughout the classroom. 

Since I’ve been in Barranquilla, there has always been a natural breeze, making the heat durable. I think it’s so funny how students will bring sweaters to the air conditioned rooms because they are “too cold.” I am constantly told that the breeze will die down by the time Easter comes. I am interested to see how the growing heat will affect the school day.

3. School Lunch

During the meal break, students will congregate in groups around the school, sitting down in circles, on benches, play in the shaded outdoor gym, or walk around. Whenever I walk to buy a snack at this time, their positive energy radiates, making me feel incredibly happy to be there.

And oh yea, every week at lunch, they play “Walking On Sunshine” by Aly and AJ over the loudspeakers. Coincidence much?

At my school, students bring their lunch or they can buy a snack at the outdoor snack bar. You can purchase fast food, such as an empanada or a hot dog, as well as healthy snacks, like a yogurt, watermelon, pears, apples, and oranges. One thing I love is that the snack bar sells fresh juice to the students. I go there once every break to buy a fruit or juice.  

This contrasts so much  from New York schools. At the elementary school I worked at, kids were lucky if they were given the opportunity to go outside. At lunch, students have to sit at a lunch table inside. Granted it’s too cold to go outside half of the year there, but even so, lunch time in New York always seemed so orderly and confined.

4. School Discipline and Student-Teacher Relationships

I’ve been told that in Barranquilla, everyone is tranquilo or has a relaxed state of mind. Students of all ages are generally responsible for going around the school on their own. They walk themselves to classes at the beginning, throughout, and at the end of the school day.

At my school, students don’t need to be told as a whole to go to class, or be reminded that their meal break is over. Since these girls are a bit older, this may be altered from the younger students in the afternoon classes. In my school, they are trusted that they can take care of themselves in this way. I like this because I think it gives them independence and a positive sense of ownership over their actions. 

In New York, school discipline can be so strict. Students have to line up at the start of the day with their classes and walk with their teacher to their room. When the class needs to go to another room or to lunch, they need to line up and be walked by their teacher. And if they aren’t behaving “properly”, their time can be delayed.

At my school, teachers don’t care to spend their energy disciplining students in this way. If the students are misbehaving, they will talk to them and tell them they’re acting poorly. But they would never prolong them from eating a meal or leaving class. 

In the school I worked at, all students received free lunch. Students had to wait to be called on in order to eat, table by table. The lunch aids at this school could be really hard on the kids at times, often yelling or raising their voice to be heard. If a table wasn’t quiet, the aid would make them wait to get food, and let another table go.

Also, in my classes, and maybe because I teach older students, teachers can be much more relaxed when giving instructions. When a teacher gives instructions, you don’t need to tell the class no more than two times max.

5. Boundaries

In the United States, we have physical boundaries when it comes to students. When I worked at my New York school, I was told “Don’t hug students, but you can allow them to hug you.” This is to prevent any complications with extreme cases of molestation. We also want to let students have consent over their bodies.

In Barranquilla, physical contact is a big part of the culture. Students will see teachers in the hallways and will HUG them, regardless if they’re male or female. Teachers will also initiate hugs.

Students have also kissed me on the cheek, which is a big part of the culture here. This is something new I generally need to get used to, especially with children. Personally, I don’t fully feel like I’m an “adult”, yet I technically am an authority figure. I am that older cousin or aunt who children are obligated to kiss on the cheek at gatherings. I suppose as I grow older, I need to accept this position at the “adult table.”

Also, here it is normal for students to teachers snacks. I’ve have received snacks from students as well. This struck me as weird at first because I didn’t want to take away a part of a student’s lunch. The more I saw students doing it, the more I realized that if they really needed the food, they would keep it. Here, it’s almost as if a student writes a note to you.

Today’s snack gift: a Choco Break from an 8th grade student. Yesterday I received a lollipop.

If students need money for snack, they will also ask teachers for it. I have seen students doing this. In New York, if we give students money, it means we are getting “too involved” in a their personal life.

6. Everyone is Happy to Be There

With all of the above factors combined, school is generally a happy place.

In my school in New York, so many students were unhappy to go to school. You could tell when some students just didn’t want to be there.

Before I came here, I read online that students genuinely want to be in school.  I didn’t fully believe it, but after observing classes for 2 weeks, it’s so true!

My students always make jokes with their teachers and are always laughing. In my classrooms, my girls always ask me questions, about myself, about English, and about United States.

Teachers are also happy to be there. I have been blessed that despite a language barrier, I generally feel taken care of in my school.

[momosmessages]

Primera Dia de Colegio - First Impressions and Thoughts

Yesterday was my first day of school! I have literally waited so long for this day to come.

I have been in Barranquilla since February 5th. We were told that the day after we arrived was the day to go to Migration and apply for our Cedulas (mandatory Colombian ID).

Then that Wednesday, we were to have a meeting at our own individual schools with our Regional Coordinators and our mentors.

Every placement city have whats called a Regional Coordinator - someone who works for Colombia Bilingue and is our first line of support for everything from housing to school setups. A “mentor” is basically like a parent/teacher coordinator for that specific school. Most often they are also teachers, and specifically, the head English teachers.  (I will refer to my Regional Coordinator as RC and my mentor as Mentor.)

Everyone else here met with their teachers Wednesday and started Thursday. But RC never heard from my school. (We figured because Carnavale was that week, that maybe my school was busy. Carnavale began on Saturday February 10th and ended on Tuesday, February 13th.)

A string of miscommunications followed. We planned for a meeting the next Thursday, which got pushed to Friday. And then on Friday, RC and I were told the wrong time, so we came back on Monday. So basically I had been chilling out for my first two weeks here. And while it sounds great, I’ve actually had a bad case of cabin fever and I

Yesterday woke up around 6am. Due to the heat, morning classes at Barranquilla schools begin around 6:30am and end around 12:15pm, but Mentor told me to come at 7am. They also have afternoon sessions from 1pm to 6pm. At my school, their high school is in the morning and their primary school is in the afternoon.

I still don’t know how to fully take the TransMetro yet, so I relied on calling a taxi. Due to the weather, people don’t walk as often as they do in New York. They’re a high demand and fortunately, are cheap! There’s a specific app used here called 32222222.

I’m still figuring out how to use this app. A cab ride from my apartment to my school takes under 20 minutes. I thought I had ordered it to come at 6:45am, but instead it came as soon as I ordered it, at 6:30am. I could hear the driver honking from my window. I wasn’t ready at all! I did my best to speedily get ready, but by the time I made it down the lobby he was gone. My friendly doorman called another one for me.

I made it to the school entrance just past 7 am. My school is like a castle in a fortress - there’s one large, blue, wooden gate for an entrance and big cement walls circling it. If I had walked past it on the street, I wouldn’t have thought it was a school. I stood there, not knowing how to get in, knocking, for a few solid minutes. The last time I had gone here, the gate was open. I imagined a fairy tale creature voice to shout back “WHO GOES THERE?” at any moment.

Eventually, the security guard opened the door and let me in. I had met her the previous week and told her in Spanish I was looking for Mentor. She motioned for me to take a seat outside an office, only a few feet away.

I should mention that the majority of this school except classrooms and some offices are all outside. Since the weather is perfect here, the school is shaped in an open square. All the classrooms are “inside” face each other to receive the same amount of natural sunlight.

This is a photo from the school’s website. I didn’t take any photos yesterday but I’m sure I will soon!

A few minutes later a woman I hadn’t met yet came up to me and motioned me to follow her inside the office. She only spoke Spanish. She sat at her desk told me to sit. She asked me to write my name and cellphone number on a sheet of paper. She then wrote hers, and explained to me she was the Academic Coordinator. She then took me around to a small hallway, which led to a wooden ramp. The ramp led to the air conditioned teachers lounge, where we found Mentor and other teachers.

When I said hello, Mentor didn’t say much, except that we were going to a classroom. I didn’t know if I’d be observing or what, but I figured I’d just go with the flow. The classroom was air conditioned and had about 20 girls sitting there. Their eyes lit up when they saw me walk in, and I instantly felt so comfortable. 

I should also explain that this is an all-girls Catholic school. RC says it used to be run by nuns, but now there is only one nun. The girls take religion classes and have to wear uniforms - a blue and grey jumper with a white, short sleeved button-down shirt.

Mentor explained to me that this was an Intermediate class, and then he gave the girls a brief introduction of me in English. He then asked me to introduce myself.

I told the girls my name, that I was from United States in New York. I mentioned how happy I was to be here and thanked them for welcoming me here.

I don’t know hot to explain it, but when I spoke to the girls, something about it just felt so right. I felt like I was in my element. Sometimes when I am forced to publicly speak, like I did in Orientation in Bogota, I can get flustered. But being up there in front of a classroom, having the upper hand, and teaching basically an instinct of a language - where I couldn’t go wrong - I felt so confident!

Mentor then asked the girls if they had any questions for me. As per usual in a classroom, the students were at first shy.

Then one brave soul asked the first question.

“How old are you?”

I turned to Mentor. I didn’t mind answering but wasn’t sure if that was an appropriate question. I asked him this and he said to the girl, “Hmmm maybe another question!”

The girls then gained the confidence to ask me things. Why did you want to come to Colombia? What is your favorite food here? Do you have brothers and sisters? What is your pet’s name?

I loved answering their questions, and loved seeing their reactions. When I told them I loved empanadas, they all laughed. And when I told them about my dog, Rooney, they all gave a big “Awwwww!!!”

And of course the reliable “Do you have a boyfriend?” question came up. I just smiled politely and said “I’m not going to answer that question.”

One question was what I liked to do in my spare time. And of course, when I told them I loved to sing, the next question was, “CAN YOU SING FOR US?”

Normally I will say no to those questions. But because I was in such a good mood and they were so sweet I thought “You’re Only in Barranquilla Once.” And I did a sweet rendition to the chorus of Adele’s “Someone Like You.”

I loved seeing their jaws drop. I didn’t receive standing ovation, but a pretty loud applause!

When the class ended, Mentor took me into the room of another teacher, who I’ll refer to as JF.

JF taught the more advanced students. I gave the same introduction to them and received a similar set of questions. However this time they asked me what my last name was.

I had to write it on the board to sound it out. I find this so ironic because as a kid, I despised my last name. I hated the way it’s pronounced. I hated how it was paired with my first name. I dreaded the beginning of the school year when teachers said my full name in front of the whole class.

And now, I was writing it on the board for over 40 Colombian adolescent girls, all at the same time, going “M-AWWOO -RRRR eeen MOO-LAWWWRK-EHHH-EE”

I’ve grown to love and appreciate my name. I explained that “Maureen” was another form of “Mary”, like “Maria.”

It’s an amazing feeling, knowing you’ve gotten over a past insecurity, of how strong you’ve grown in your self-confidence.

In the third class, I had the opportunity to help out with a lesson. This class was more on a basic level Mentor spoke to them mainly in Spanish.

Mentor explained to me that they had just been reviewing personal questions.

We reviewed two questions: “When were you born?” and “Where were you born?”

I didn’t know how to feel about the first question. The example answer he gave was my birthday, December 2nd. However in English, saying “When were you born?” has a connotation more towards the year you were born. If you want to know someone else’s birthday in general, you would say “When is your birthday?”

I didn’t want to say anything. I figured I could always say something later if I really felt that strongly about it.

Mentor went around the room and asked the girls these questions. He then encouraged them to ask someone else.

I also asked some of the girls these questions! Some of them were definitely shy to say the phrases out loud. It felt so good to say “That’s right, good job!” and see their faces click from worried to a reassured smile.

At 9am, the classes stop for a 30 minute break. I couldn’t believe it was only 9 am! And it was the “meal” break. I’ve only known meal breaks to be for lunch. And this was breakfast!

Mentor took me back to the teacher’s lounge. He explained the break to me, and said I could hang out here for the break.

Then, JF came up to me and asked me if I wanted fruit. I couldn’t finish my coffee that morning in fear of losing the taxi, and I didn’t bring my water bottle with me. So I gladly said “yes” thinking any form of sustenance was a good form of sustenance.

I followed JF down the same ramp I took with the Academic Coordinator. All of the girls had come out of the classrooms, like bees in a hive. Groups of them sat down in random spots on the ground, some walking, some standing, eating homemade lunches,

JF led me past the classrooms and to the outdoor kiosk, explaining the meal break along the way. Like a ship he navigated past the waves of blue and grey jumpers.

I remembered then in our meeting, that the principal had said there were 900 girls in the school. She wasn’t lying!

JF showed me the food stands and introduced me to a kiosk worker, a woman wearing a Starbucks-green apron. He pointed out all the fruit to me.

There were strawberries, grapes, cups of watermelon, and another fruit which I had never recognized. JF told me I could have my pick. Fruit had been a delicacy for weeks for me. I said thank you and grabbed a watermelon. I offered to pay but he insisted he paid. He also showed me the specific juices they had. Apparently blackberry juice is a common thing here. I look forward to trying that next!

Actual footage of me going at the watermelon.

Before the break ended, one of the religion teachers chatted with me in English. He told me had lived in Queens for six months, not too far from where I live in Queens!

Even though the break ended, Mentor and JF stayed in the teacher’s lounge for a bit. I assumed they had a free period. JF was so interested in my life. He wanted to know what I thought about Barranquilla, what kind of house I lived in the states, and about American baseball teams! My mind was so overwhelmed from all the information I was taking in. JF was alot more enthusiastic than Mentor, who kind of just sat, listening. From seeing Mentor interact with students in class, I could tell he was that teacher that didn’t have to go over the top to show he cared, and the students loved him for that.

While we were on the topic of my life, Mentor did ask me an interesting question. He asked how I felt teaching, with my previous experience, in an American public school, despite all the shootings. It didn’t bother me to talk about how I felt about the current situation. I told him the truth - that while it’s so scary and a tragedy, the easiest coping strategy is to not think about it. That while it’s a horrible thing, I personally am not surprised by shootings anymore. I hope I didn’t come off as un empathetic . I wondered how much I’d be asked about that here.

We then went to one more class. I did the standard introduction and questions. This group was definitely the most rowdy, but I liked them anyway. All of the girls here have such high energy, and it gives me such a positive feeling. Mentor told them I spoke no Spanish, but they didn’t believe him (they’re not wrong haha). He told them this so they wouldn’t try to ask for help in Spanish, and so they could use their English skills. So he made me repeat a joke in Spanish to make it sound like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I made an effort to mispronounce a word or two, and they laughed alot at that!

One other thing happened, which I found interesting. I was asking them about their favorite places in Barranquilla. Mentor then told this class I was looking for a place to live or a habitacion, and they knew of anything, they should help me out. In the United States, we would never leak out something personal like that about a teacher. I knew it was only a good intention, so I didn’t say anything.

When the class finished, Mentor told me I could go home. I thanked him for the day, and we parted ways. I was about to order a taxi when two teachers introduced themselves to me. They spoke only Spanish, and asked me about my life. I tried my best to communicate with them. My Spanish wasn’t perfect, but I could tell they appreciated how much I was trying.

They then asked how I was getting home. I told them a taxi, and they both said in Spanish “Oh no taxis son muy peligroso!”. Then one of them, Maude, asked me my address, told me to wait, and left the room. A minute later she came back and told me that another teacher lives near me and will give me a ride home.

Maude also said that her parents were moving and had an extra room they needed to rent out! We exchanged numbers. Maude told me the teacher driving me would be about 15 minutes. While I waited I met other teachers. They asked me if I was hungry. One gave me a pear and another offered me coffee. COFFEE!! The coffee came out of a  communal, drip pot coffee maker.

There is no coffee maker of any sort in my current apartment, so for the past two weeks I’ve been living off of instant coffee. So seeing a drip coffee machine made my eyes light up!

Me.

They had these plastic shot glasses, as if it were espresso. Even though poured out from the pot, it was sweet, as if someone had already added a bunch of sugar.

One of the teachers I met, an older woman, eventually led me downstairs to the courtyard. We waited for the teacher who’d be driving us, who’s name was Ally.

The courtyard was so packed! So many girls swarmed in and out of the blue gate, which was now open. Ally drove me and another teacher home. The only entrance for cars and people was that blue gate. So as we drove through, the security guard had to make the girls stand at the sides. There were so many students I felt like a celebrity in a van, trying to drive through a swarm of fans and paparazzi.

Ally also spoke English, and asked me about her life along the way. She taught Spanish, and told me about her daughters. She said she drove the fellow from last year to school, and could do the same for me.

Today we have no school because of a nationwide teacher’s strike.

Yesterday was definitely alot, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m so happy and grateful for the teacher’s kindness and generosity.  I’m looking forward to the next five months!

*I have changed the names of all the people I’ve mentioned*

[momosmessages]

The First, from Barranquilla

*This post has been edited as of June 5, 2018*

On  Saturday January 27, 2018, I took the biggest risk of my 24 year old life.

I was scared shitless. I was told via sparse emails from multiple people that someone would be meeting me at the airport and would take me to the hotel. And I somehow, I ended up in Bogota, Colombia.

Five days prior to this excursion, I was convinced that this was all fake. That it wasn’t even real. I didn’t even think it was legitimate until I discovered the Facebook group, where I found hundreds of other people, all in a similar situation as my own.

No one knew what was really going on. Some people claimed they had already been placed, which calmed my nerves. Some had also already applied for their visas, and quite a few had theirs approved. But underneath every post, comment, or shared link, lay an unspoken uncertainty that this would not work out. That the Ministry of Education’s foundation in La CUN would crumble, and we’d be the ones to fall through the cracks.

LET’S BACKTRACK

Ten months ago, I applied to Greenheart Travels, a recruiter organization, for the position of English Fellow with Heart for Change. I had dreamed of teaching English abroad since college. Multitudes of obstacles and life experiences prevented me from making my dream a reality. In Summer 2017, years later, I finally felt that I had the time, emotional energy, and confidence to achieve this life goal. (My obstacles can be a whole other post on its own.) In my research I found Greenheart’s program.

I was attracted to the program because I felt like it hit all of my check boxes.

FIRST, I’d be living and teaching in Colombia, which came with it’s own set of bonuses:

A)  I specifically wanted to teach in Central or South America so I could improve my Spanish – another life goal.

B) A woman I tutored for my TEFL practicum hours happened to be from Colombia. Every time I went to her house she shared a little bit of her culture with me. I wanted to learn more about the culture and the amazing people who called it home.

SECOND, the program wouldn’t start until January, giving me a few months to continue my retail job and to prepare.

THIRD, the cause – community service – was something dear to my heart. Colombia Bilingue (the official name of the program) is run by the Colombian government’s Ministry of Education. In short, it hires native or C1 level English speakers to be assistant teachers all throughout the country’s public schools. Having previously completed two years of AmeriCorps, I felt that this program aligned with my values. I strongly believe that everyone deserves excellent education, regardless of where they live, and wish to fight for it somehow in my career.

FOURTH, I felt safe and supported with Heart for Change. I liked the idea of going with a program rather than finding a job all on my own. Heart for Change had run Colombia Bilingue for the past few years, so in my mind, they knew what they were doing. I had two Skype interviews with them, and talking to someone face-screen-face made me trust them. And whenever I had a question, the staff immediately responded to me. Health insurance and visa costs would be included. I had to pay a $400 deposit fee to insure I was going. They said I would receive my deposit at the end of the program. They even had numerous articles and blog posts about the program and Colombia. Many alumni had written about their experiences during, before, and after the program. Plus, maybe I could write for them as well!

This program just felt like it was made for me. After completing my AmeriCorps experience in June 2017, I felt so emotionally drained. I’ll never regret my experience, even though it had many downs to its ups. I loved giving myself up to others, “To serve to a cause greater than oneself.” But at this point in my life, I felt like it was time to give back to MYSELF. I had not just remember but live in the belief that myself – my well being – is great as well.

I dove right in. There were two options of teaching length: five or eleven months. I chose eleven. I wanted full immersion, to fully get out of my comfort zone. I made no plans afterwards, so I wouldn’t get distracted and could give this 100 % of my focus.

I took up a retail job and a babysitting gig to save money. I bought books and somehow (with lots of Groupon credit), Spanish Rosetta Stone. I made a schedule for myself and practiced every day, before or after work. Quite often at the store I worked at, we’d have customers who only spoke Spanish. Normally one or two co-workers were bilingual and could help them. I always felt so powerless when I couldn’t help them myself. I’d notice bits and pieces of words or phrases I understood. It frustrated me so much on the inside knowing so little, wishing I was at a higher level to fully comprehend.

I made a big Facebook status about it. I never make those kinds of statuses. But I wanted to be proud of my accomplishments, and acknowledge the fact that I was making this a reality. The support I received was astronomical. If you even said one “congratulations” to me, I appreciate you.

I also thank anyone who got something for me. I received thoughtful and useful traveling gifts for my birthday and Christmas. My parents, who were at first surprised yet supportive in their own way, gave me a brand new luggage set. For Christmas my best friend made me a personalized calendar, with pictures of me and all my friends, as well as U.S. and Colombian holidays.

The tremendous agency of people made me even more focused and determined to go!

THE WAITING

Upon my acceptance in August, I was told that I’d receive a start date. They encouraged us to wait to buy a plan ticket and sign up for health insurance until we received it. I was told the start date would be sometime in January, and we’d know for sure when it would be in October.

October came and gone, and no start date came. The organization claimed that they were still waiting on the government, who would make the final decisions. They claimed that they had no control over the situation.

By this point, some frustrations began to boil. The girl who was to take my room in my absence wanted to know more details about my move, as did I. I ended up quitting my babysitting job a month earlier than expected ( I had informed the child’s mother from the beginning that I would be going away in January), as I felt that I needed to make my narrow my focus even more in my preparations.

The volunteers from the previous year said they didn’t receive their start date until December 7, 2016.

But as the days grew, my focus dwindled. I found myself settling in more comfortably to my retail job, which at this point, gave me more hours for the holiday season. I spent more time at my parents’ house.

I even began dating someone. I told myself that I when I left for Colombia, I had to be single, to fully focus on myself. Yet, as they say, love seems to find us when we’re not looking for it. I told him early on that I would be leaving and couldn’t be serious. He was disheartened, but also immensely supportive of me.

 AND WAITING

December 7th went by, yet I didn’t worry. I figured if the program was disorganized, I’d receive a start date eventually, but there was no use worrying about what I couldn’t control.

About a week later, I received an email saying that start dates might be pushed back to even February. This created even more complications my moving situation. This distressed me, because I thought I may have to move back into my parents’ house, at latest the end of January.

A few days before Christmas, I received an email saying the Ministry HAD to sign our contracts before December 31, 2017. Therefore, that would be the last possible day we’d find out. By that point, on Greenheart’s Facebook group, other participants posted they’d already bought flights because they couldn’t wait any longer. Flight prices had slowly risen up the closer we go to January. A lot of participants planned on traveling the country until our orientation. I wasn’t about to travel to another country on my own, especially one where I’ve never been before  didn’t speak the language fully. Plus, I loved working at my retail job, and wanted to give them a proper goodbye. I decided the day I received my start date would also be the day I’d give my two week notice.

On December 27, 2017, I received the most devastating email. It made the impossible possible. My point person for Greenheart wrote to its participants, that Heart for Change was not chosen to run Colombia Bilingue. They said that the Ministry chose another competing organization. Greenheart wouldn’t give us the name of the organization. They said this agency was new, that they have never affiliated with them before, and that therefore, they couldn’t switch all the already accepted participants over. Basically, we were out of a job and fully screwed over.

My world turned on its inside. Not for one second  did it ever cross my mind, in all my months of preparing and telling my friends and family about this, did I ever think that the program would fall through. With every email, they told me that no matter what, despite the government being slow to respond, I’d have a job.

I had no Plan B.

I was  angry at Greenheart. Throughout all their emails and updates, they always claimed they were being open and transparent, that they were telling us absolutely everything they knew. But they never once told us they were competing with another organization, or that there was even a sliver of a chance that they may not be chosen.

I guess they didn’t want to tell people this could happen. That they’d get the job for sure. But still, it wasn’t fair at all. My heart went out to those who had already quit their full “serious” jobs, bought plane tickets, and/or already were in Colombia. I felt if they had told us this, then this blow would have been softer.

I felt powerless. I trusted them with my future, and I was stabbed in the back.

I thought I knew all  possible outcomes. I had looked all around the room for booby traps, except for the floor that fell under me.

GRIEVING

I’m a person where when something bad happens, or when something frustrates me, I need alone time to process my feelings. I only told my family, my best friend, and my roommates on that day. It took me two days to process how I was feeling. And on the morning of December 31, 2017, New Year’s Eve, I made a status to inform all who were supporting me.

When I made first status about going, it was mainly to inform everyone of my plans. It wasn’t to gain likes or to show off. However, and I’m not going to lie, I had some expectations of people reacting to it.

But for my status about the program being cancelled, I had no expectations. I simply just wanted to inform everyone rooting for me, as well as reaching out to see if anyone had any connections. I stayed away from Facebook for a few days, needing time to process myself.

When I eventually got back around to Facebook a few days later, I was shocked. So many people from all walks of my life had reached out to give their condolences and/or tried to help me in some way. One friend immediately called me the morning I posted my status. I had another person – someone who I hadn’t talked to since high school – reach out to me. People emailed me positions they saw and “thought of me”

Having such positive vibes from others helped me see that some good would come out in the end of all of this. But yet, on the inside I was still grieving. I was still feeling so many mixed emotions all at once. I let myself cry as much as I needed to. Some days I felt happy and positive one moment, and then something would remind me of how angry I was, and I’d cry again. Sometimes it was so hard to keep a calm composure, especially when I was working. I loved working there, but I felt like the purpose or end goal for working was gone (besides, getting money of course).

ANXIETY

My anxiety shot up, and seeing people – even friends who I loved – made me feel overwhelmed. In an optimistic moment, I’d made plans with a friend, thinking it would help me. But then, hours or a day before, waves of worry came over my chest, and I’d cancel, in order to shake the uneasiness. After I realized this I told many friends I needed space. This in itself made me feel low, because I knew anyone reaching out only wanted to help me. So if you were one of these people, or if I dropped off the face of the Earth in your eyes, I want you to know that it was not in bad intentions. It was something I just needed to do for myself.

I had to really reflect and think about what I wanted. I wrote a lot and talked it out with my best friend. Whilst grieving, I was still able to make some sort of plan:

My Objective: I still wanted to teach abroad. That was my end goal, and I wasn’t going to let this setback stop me.

1) My heart was now set on teaching in Colombia. I reached out to International TEFL Academy, where I received my TEFL course from. They give their recipients lifelong free job search assistance. My point person told me that International TEFL Academy had affiliations with many private schools in Colombia. The list was HUGE! I started at the top (the list was in by cities in alphabetical order). I made it a new goal each day to apply to at least five of them.

I also joined a Facebook group for general English teachers in Colombia, where people would post job positions every day. It was on this group that I saw people posting about the new organization that would take over Colombia Bilingue. Greenheart strongly encouraged us to not sign up with this organization, saying that “we can’t trust them.” At first I had believed Greenheart. But I felt after all of this, I couldn’t trust THEM! So I emailed my resume and TEFL certification to the email provided. At few days later, I received an email giving me information about the program. However, certain details weren’t clear. For example, there were two documents: one in Spanish and one in English. Both documents had different details and different program start dates. And on both it wasn’t clear if I’d be paid. I replied back to them with my concerns.

2) If Colombia didn’t work out, I still wanted to be in a Spanish speaking country. I searched on job boards, but positions in South America and Central were sparse. I’ve had alot of people ask me “Why don’t you look for jobs in Spain?” Spain is a beautiful country, but I preferred to work in Central or South America. I felt I wouldn’t have the opportunity to come to South America in the future, whereas in Europe I would. Plus, if I could get a job elsewhere in South America, I’d still have a chance to at least visit Colombia.

3) If Steps 1 and 2 didn’t work out, and if I had no serious bites for teaching positions for one month, I would broaden my horizons. Then I would consider Spain. I also would consider South East Asia, where I had originally intended to go. There were an abundance of online job postings for Asia, usually for one year contracts.

DREAMING WITH A BROKEN HEART

With this new plan in mind, I told myself to try my best, but to not stress out about things out of my control. I thought to myself:

“Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe I’m supposed to stay in New York a little bit longer.”

And so, even thought I still felt pain, I tried to put my best foot forward.

I tried to enjoy my retail job even more. It felt so awesome to have regular customers know me, and to learn more about the store and retail work.  I continued to see my family regularly. I began working on “long-term” crochet projects for other’s birthdays.

I spent more time with the person I was dating, who was through everything, still super supportive of my dream. The more time I spent with him, the more I thought that maybe the universe was telling me to get to know him better. And somehow, he went from “the guy I’ve been seeing” to “boyfriend.” We’re not dating anymore, but at the time, it felt right.

Also, two important friend-events slowly crept in my life. One was a benefit dinner in February for a close friend who had recently been sick. It would take place in upstate New York, where I went to college. My group of friends were all going, and I wanted to support her. The second event is actually two events. Another close friend in the same friend group is getting married! I was invited to both her bridal shower in mid-March, and her wedding in April. This was the first close friend of mine who would be getting married, and again, I wanted to support her and celebrate this amazing day with her and all of our friends.

However, one thing that dwindled was my interest in learning Spanish. I kind of stopped studying altogether. Every time I tried to or even thought about it, I’d feel depressed. I felt like there was no point in learning something if I couldn’t practice it, or if I had no secure end goal. And so my Spanish books kind of just sat on my table, collecting dust for the majority of January.

FAST TRACK

About two weeks before January 27, I received an email from the organization running Colombia Bilingue, which I learned is called CUN. However, the email was from another person, and instead of responding to my answers, it was instructing me on how to apply for my Visa. I replied thanking them, but said no one had answered my questions. A few days later I received an email from the same woman. My questions still weren’t answered, but instead I was given instructions on how to fill out a Google Form, saying when I’d be arriving in Colombia. I replied a third time.

Finally on Monday, January 22, 2018, I received an answer back from the first person. She answered all my questions, and confirmed that the start date was Sunday, January 28, 2018. She confirmed I would get paid, and how much per month. Until this point, I felt this program was illegitimate. Anytime I tried to research this organization, I couldn’t find anything. And the fact that they weren’t responding to me made me think automated robots were behind every email.

But now I had some sense that it was an actual person behind the screen. I needed to get input from people who knew me the best.

First, I told my parents, and they weren’t super thrilled. I knew they wanted what was best and safe for me. I also knew that their opinion was bias because hey they’re parents, and its their job to worry.

I told my best friend at dinner that night (did I mention I live with my best friend?).

“I wish I knew if other people were in the same boat as me,” I admitted, as we ate our microwaves vegetarian chicken nuts.

“There probably is! There has to be a Facebook group or something”, she replied.

Facebook group – I hadn’t even thought of that! (Also, did I mention she’s super smart? As in, getting her PhD?)

I reached out to the group I first learned about this new organization, asking if anyone else was doing it. To my surprise someone commented on it with the link to its Facebook group!

Which brings me back to the beginning. Now, this was real. And if I were to do it, I’d have only five days to get my shit together and go.

My first thoughts were: “No way! It’s not worth it to only have five days to prepare. They’re crazy for expecting so much of me in such little time.”

But however, this was what I wanted all along. The program would be five months, not 11 months. They would not be paying for my health insurance, unlike Heart for Change. But still, I’d get to do what I had my heart set on for so long. The only responses I heard from private schools were rejections. And here I was, already accepted to this program to live my dream.

That Tuesday night, I let myself prepare as if I were going. I learned with Copa Airlines, you could reserve a flight for 24 hours without paying. So I did! I then bought traveler’s health insurance and filled out La CUN’s  Google Form. I was 40 percent sure I was going. I wondered if I were crazy, for even considering it.

Wednesday morning, I somehow I ended up texting a very supportive friend. We both wish to teach English abroad, and I ended up telling him the story. I told him what was holding me back was that there was such little time. But then, he told me something that gave me the perspective to make a decision. He said I should go for it and that it was in fact the time I would have been going anyway, and “this is what I was hyping myself up for the whole time.”

Yes, I thought. What was holding me back? I don’t have children, I don’t have immediate debt to pay off, and I’m healthy. What else did I need to wait for?

Now was the time.

That day at my retail job, I discussed it with some co-workers. They had known I had planned to go from the start, but I gave them more details. One of them happened to be from Colombia. He encouraged me to go for it, and I felt so supported! When I got off, I gave my manager a . . .erm . .  four day notice. I felt so bad, but there was nothing else I could do. Luckily they were nice about it and wished me luck.

The next few days were full of planning and getting my shit together. I already had luggage, so that was that.

I didn’t want to tell many people of my excursion for multiple reasons.

I knew I also needed to mentally prepare, after coming from such a low. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much, in fear of getting let down again. Because of this, I didn’t want to make it a big deal the second time around. When you share something so big like that, that will change your life, it almost in a way felt like the pressure would be on. I also am a superstitious person, if you can’t already tell. I was afraid if I made this a big deal again, then I’d jinx it.

My best friend reassured me to be happy. Because even if it doesn’t work out, I’m still doing something. And failing is better than doing nothing at all.

  So on Saturday night, January 27, 2018, my then-boyfriend drove me to JFK. I took a flight to Panama City, and then a connecting flight to Bogota, Colombia. Representatives from the Ministry of Education greeted me and another fellow. They drove us to a hotel in Bogota, where myself and about over a hundred people stayed for a week, for orientation.

There, I was placed to be in Barranquilla, home of Carnavale and of course, the one and only – Shakira

 So many other adventures and events have happened since then. I am not dating that person anymore, and am happily single. I’ve experienced Carnavale,  taught the most pro-active students, met a countless amount of interesting people, and felt just about every emotion possible known to man.

After three months, the way of life here has now become more normalized in my brain. But as my journey slowly comes to an end, I’ll still have moments that catch me off guard, reminding me that I am indeed in Colombia. When I have a bad day or upsetting moment, I’ll remind myself that I am HERE. After all that I’ve been through, I still made it to Colombia. As cheesy as it sounds, I remember that I really can do ANYTHING. And that my awesomeness is absolutely limitless.

Con amor de Barranquilla,

Momo <3

(Me transforming into Shakira and jumping into the unknown)