Exhausted But Elated

Don Wilmer, groundskeeper and
veritable San Benito Hagrid, welcomes you
to school with weedwhip in tow.

This Thursday was full of reasons why most people, including myself until a few months ago, are so turned off by teaching. We started the day off with one of our sixth graders wetting himself during class. Luckily, I don’t think anyone around him noticed, since he was sufficiently inconspicuous with his leaving the classroom. Then, before my English lesson a new boy was ushered into the classroom who had changed schools because of a fight he’d gotten into at the previous one, and he had the black eye from getting kicked in the face while he was down to prove it. Also returning to class this week was Esteban who broke his arm last week. To add to the chaos, at the end of the day we found out someone had entered the room and dug around in Sebastian’s backpack, and his things (including his phone) were strewn about the room, and we had to investigate and practically interrogate some suspects. Needless to say, I returned to the monastery needing some me time. But after playing guitar for a bit, I decided I should probably start planning classes for the next day. I open my computer to find an email from the mother of one of my students, Juan Andres, saying that he had told her that someone at school had punched him in the face. So let’s take stock: I began the day with a tired but genuine smile and hop to my step, and ended up with a broken arm, two black eyes, attempted robbery, and a wet pair of drawers.

 *          *          *

We recently began our new academic year here at Colegio San Benito, and I am tasked with teaching English to sixth and seventh grades. The grades biblically come in twos, and I have five hours each week with each half of each grade, twenty hours total. Mix in some chaperoning of recess and homeroom, and we’ve got ourselves a pretty full schedule.

 

First day of school picture, for Mom.

In a few words, all of the clichés about teaching are true. Unfortunately, few words would make for an even more boring post than it assuredly will already be. But it’s true, and an exhausted sigh has already been heard escaping my lungs up the stairs to the teachers’ office floor upon my return from class. Coming as a surprise to no one, some kids can be a lot to handle, or a whole class inattentive. Heck, an entire day can be draining, and often is. I’m finding I’m terrible at discipline. This is most likely because I was one of those who needed it most growing up. So some days, the kids can get real chatty, and it’s hard to quiet down forty twelve year olds by yourself. One of the first days was especially trying, and one of the kids in the front told me, “Teacher, make them switch places.” I thought, shit, even the kid knows how to do this better than I do. Sure, I may be at the front of the classroom, but I’m also learning everyday. A big part of it is learning names, and I’ve found quieting down a group is easier when I know the names and can single them out. “Angel, Juan Esteban, and Caterin, be quiet” works better than a big, general “Be quiet, everyone” since you single them out with a little public shaming.

How I feel calling someone out in class.

I’m also finding I spend a lot of time working on different ways to teach the same damn things. Math teachers can usually plow through new material every few classes, social studies can go through a little more history or learn a bit more geography. Even with literature, you can fruit ninja your way through a few books in no time. When teaching English as a second language, for many kids, it’s their first time seeing the letters rearranged in these ways. This normally wouldn’t bother me, and I would love the opportunity to take my time and go through the verb to be in a couple weeks. The problem is that I can’t do that with forty kids in each class, many of whom are much more advanced. So I have to hold the hands of those who are still too shy to say simple sentences in English as well as reign in those who have English in their lives already, be it through music they listen to or cousins who live in Miami. So there are some times I leave a class feeling terrible, either for proceeding too quickly through a lesson for some, or for telling someone, “thank you for knowing the present progressive tense, but we are working on the simple present right now” and possibly discouraging their drive to pursue English if they’re not challenged enough in a school that doesn’t allow you to go up a level in just one subject.

Those few words a while back really seemed to turn into a whole lot of bitching, but the point is I’m sill learning. And, like I said, the clichés are true, so while it’s challenging, a lot of work, and often exhausting, it’s also one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I also freely admit that some of the reasons it’s so great are pretty arrogant and self-serving: I get to wear the fancy white lab coat that indicates being a teacher, in classic Uncle Jim fashion (For those of you who don’t know him, my Uncle Jim, now retired from teaching high school physics for nigh on forty years,  was known for wearing a white lab coat every day). On the first day, when one of my sixth graders found out he was in my homeroom, he approached me and said he was glad I was his homeroom director. Two other kids hugged me after the first day of class. These all make me feel good. But they’re only part of why I’ve enjoyed my short stint so far.

My friend, Sergio, thoroughly enjoys staff meetings. It reads:
"When classes are over, and they tell you there's a meeting"

Last semester, I was the gringo volunteer. My responsibility list was about as short as it had ever been, and I was mostly just a presence in the room, joking around with the kids and helping out where I could. But I felt more like a drifter than a necessary part of the community. Now, with all the responsibilities of any other teacher, I still wouldn’t say I’m necessary, but I feel at the very least like an equal part. Sure, I can’t shoot the shit with my students like I used to. But I still chat with my old students during recess, and am more privy to the goings on at school since I’m in more staff meetings (Hooray!...) So for now I think the smiles and high fives are a decent tradeoff.

And while I may have less free time during the week, here in our fair city of Bogota, efforts are continually made to have a blast on the weekends, whether that’s grabbing what started as one beer with a friend met while traveling, going to a free concert of a Grammy award winning Colombian singer in the monastery parking lot, to winning a bet placed on a terribly played Superbowl (because if the Vikings aren’t in it, is it really a football game?).

It’s this balance I’ve found between enjoying work and weekends that allows me to come to school every day with a hop in my step. Even if I’m tired, even if the smile is forced, and especially even if I have to deal with broken bones, black eyes, and a wet pair of drawers.

J.

Spanish word of the day: We'll breach some gentle swearing with this one (gasp!). The verb mamar literally means to suck, so when someone - usually a teacher who's just found out they have another meeting with parents or more paperwork to do - says, "Ay, que mamera!" it means something along the lines of "This sucks!"

Song in my head lately: I made myself prepare for our backyard concert, especially since Andres Cepeda is the pride of Colombia, second only to Shakira. He won a Grammy in 2013, and everyone knows his songs. So, thanks to my preparation, I've had Desesperado in my head for a solid week now. Even if you don't know what he's saying, he's still got a great voice and the refrain's melody will be in your head.  

Classic.

Andres Cepeda, Latin Grammy award winner, doing a show
at San Carlos, the rich school where I live but don't teach.
Cepeda dropped out of San Carlos to pursue his music career
after eighth grade, but came back for the anniversary of the
school's founding. Since he played in the school/monastery's
parking lot, we didn't even need tickets.