Señor de los Temblores Celebration in Cusco

Watching the Señor de los Temblores (God of the Earthquakes) procession starting and ending in Plaza del Armas square was amazing. The press of 20,000 people. The slow methodical march of the black Jesus by men in red robes, struggling under the massive weight of the sculpture, removed from the walls of the Cathedral of Cusco for this blessing. The red flower petals raining down on it from balconies coated in red fabric, adorned with red and white flowers. And the ever increasing crowds around the square, everyone seeking a glimpse of the god who saved the Incan buildings from destruction in 1650. Altar boys and priests waving silver thuribles with plumes of incense smoke. The dignitaries in black suits and red ties. It is Cusco’s biggest celebration for Semana Santa, and it is beautiful.

 

Tipon’s Ancient Terraces

We start our journey with an hour and a half bus ride; it is packed as we inch our way through Cusco’s dense city streets but thins out as the Sacred Valley reveals farm lands and rivers. After getting dropped off in a beautiful plaza at the end of the line, we hike for a little less than an hour up a winding paved road, passing beautiful old houses, the entrance to Zoologico Mundo Andino, and captivating steeply terraced farms, before arriving at the base of Tipon’s archaeological site.

From the entrance, you can look down at the Sacred Valley, the little town of modern Tipon (known for its masterful preparation of guinea pig), and the Andes wrapping it all in a huge embrace.

The woman at the ticket booth is startled by our, “Hola, buenas tardes,” and hastily pushes aside her translation of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, apologizing for being lost in literature. We smile and insist it is not a problem before walking to the base of Tipon’s ancient wonder.

Tipon is stunning civil engineering from the 15th-century Incan Empire. It consists of wide agricultural terraces irrigated by a network of aqueducts fed by a natural spring. There are many ruins surrounding it, thought to be old temples and homes, though the exact purposes have been lost to time. Tipon was added to the American Society of Civil Engineers List of Historic Civil Engineering Landmarks in 2006, and it is easy to see why. We are awe-struck by these gorgeous, green expanses of grass framed by an intricate system of canals and waterfalls surrounded by ancient structures. It is beautiful.

 

 

After a few hours of exploration, we opt for a cab back to town, exhausted. In town, we pause to study the menus at the cuy (guinea pig) places, having decided we would share one in this town so famous for its preparation of the little creatures, but it’s an odd hour between meals, so restaurants sit empty, making it hard to tell which will be high quality or how long the food has sat. As we’re debating whether to stay and eat or head back to Cusco, the skies open up and unleash rain just as a collectivo pulls up in front of us, promising a fast return trip to Cusco for the same S/2 (two soles; about 67cents). Cuy will have to wait for another day.

Exploring the Outskirts of Cusco: Temple de la Luna, Q’echa and Beyond

Yesterday, as clouds pushed in cooling the sunny, Andean day and threatening rain, E and I hiked up to Temple de la Luna. As we strode up sidewalk-staircases between houses and tiendas, we were adopted by a couple dogs who decided we were part of their pack, not only walking with us but growling at passersbys along the way.

 

After crossing a busy road, we started hiking a trail past a herd of cattle and sheep, ascending a steep incline. We arrived atop to find ourselves next to a forest on the ancient Incan highway: stone walls coated in wildflowers to our side and soft, green grass underneath. Seeing this beautiful walkway made me want to walk or bike the whole of the ancient empire, to see all the beautiful valleys and peaks where they laid these communication and trade foundations, enabling the Incan Empire to flourish.

 

First we came to Temple de los Monos and spent a little time walking through its stone remnants. Then we continued on the footpath, past women using scythes to trim grasses from the irrigation system, still accompanied by the dogs, who aggressively challenged and then playful wrestled with each new dog we passed.

We arrived at Temple de la Luna, with its hints of ancient walls and towers.

Just then it started to hail: small white balls in sharp contrast to the verdant hillside. We made our way to a tienda, sharing a can of beer in exchange for shelter as the hail and rain beat thunderously on the metal roof.

Once the storm cleared, we hiked to Qenqo, which in Quechua means labyrinth or zig zag. It’s a temple carved entirely from a huge rock with a breathtaking network of man-made walkways and caves. In the largest cave, a sacrificial altar for religious ceremonies sits prominently. While the precise purpose of the temple has been lost to history, it’s thought that ritual sacrifices to the gods of the sun and moon as well as ritual embalming of Incan leaders took place here.

Emerging from the temple, a double rainbow appeared over Cusco.

Down the road, we found a gorgeous forest; the sun’s setting light permeating the branches in perfect rays. Following another path through a clearing, we came upon another Incan structure. Seated atop it were a couple holding hands and watching Cusco’s distant rooftops; a hippie woman whistling intensely, legs crossed & hands in prayer.

We enjoyed snacks from the market (dried ginger, kiwi and starfruit as well as pistachios & pecans) before bushwhacking our way back to Cusco, descending through the forest to a meadow with grazing horses, past a crumbling stone wall with the door still intact, next to a field sitting empty between plantings, and finally back to Cusco’s stone sidewalk-steps.

It’s unbelievable how much beauty, from forests to Incan ruins, is just a short hike outside of Cusco.

Breathtaking, Ancient Sacsayhuaman

 

We start climbing the steep sidewalk-staircase towards the park entrance just as clouds roll in, which provides some sweet relief from the sun’s strong rays. Just as we hand over our tickets to the park ranger, it starts to thunder.

Many people are leaving, but we decide to continue, hiking up along a river cutting deep into the earth, pausing to turn around and study the red tile roofs of Cusco coating the distance.

Arriving at the first buildings and standing in front of the stones- massive, intricately carved blocks that interlock seamlessly, so much so that it’s impossible to slide a piece of paper between them is breathtaking. The stones are shaved as smooth as glass. Some of the stones are three times my height and five times my width. These insanely large stones were gathered from a quarry over 12m away. The Inca had neither horses nor wheels, so they are thought, through superhuman feats of strength, to have laid the stones on a series of logs that were then rolled up from the quarry and down over the mountain to Sacsayhuaman.

I keep imagining the Spanish first looking up at this fortress-temple (which was five stories higher when they arrived, with three huge towers and capacity to house over 5,000 people). I envision them seeing Incan warriors emerge in gold chest plates, vibrant clothing and sharp spears. They must have felt awe, amplified when venturing inside to discover all the walls coated with gold. If only the Spaniards would have sent not just religious fanatics and warriors but also philosophers, artists and scholars; I imagine the trade of ideas and culture that could have occurred. This temple might still stand in its full form instead of being dismembered stone by stone to build Catholic Cathedrals on the foundations of Incan temples in Cusco. These last stone remnants of Sacsayhuaman were left only because they were too heavy for the Spaniards to pull down the mountain. I am so grateful they were too heavy for the Spanish to destroy.

There are llamas grazing in the green pastures between structures. I approach the herd, veering towards one, who warily warns me against encroaching any further on his space.

Coated in a gentle rain, we hike up and around all the rooms in Sacsayhuaman, trying to pictures the lives led and ceremonies held inside.

At one point we turn a corner and find a tour group climbing up and zipping down a natural stone slide. “Despacio! Despacio!” warns the guide, demonstrating how little crevices can be used to slow one’s momentum.I climb up first while E snaps photos. “Despacio, despacio,” I chant to myself, but it is much harder than it looks to find slowing elements, and I race towards the hard dirt below.

I am so grateful to be reading The Conquest of the Incas by John Hemming. I have just finished a chapter on the revolt that moves fighting from the besieged Cusco up the mountain to Sacsayhuaman. I picture the Spanish soldiers on horseback mounting the steppe steps; the Incan warriors inside deploying new weapons of war they’ve fashioned to fight against the metal armor and horses (unlike anything they’ve encountered before in war). Hemming does a beautiful job depicting how close the battle for Cusco and Sacsayhuaman were. How a few changes in either direction and the battles would have gone differently. I can’t help but root for the Incan Empire despite knowing the outcome; I can’t help but wonder how that might have played out in the modern world.

Would I still be writing this seated on a gorgeous rooftop patio looking down on a sea of red, clay-tiled buildings that reach off into the distance, enjoying a cup of cocoa tea?

Our two hours walking through these ruins were my most awe-inspiring yet in Peru. I am so grateful for our trek to Machu Picchu in two weeks, so grateful that the Spanish didn’t find those remains to pillage, stone by stone.

Reading My Way to Peru: Exploring Peruvian Literature In Preparation for My Travels

In the last few years, I have developed the pre-departure ritual of reading books from the places I am preparing to travel to have a richer sense of my destination. Before traveling in Nicaragua the first time, I read Gioconda Belli’s beautiful memoir The Country Under My Skin. Without having read that book, I would not have understood the silhouette of Sandino painted on buildings around the country, a still vivid symbol of the Sandanista revolution.

Now in preparation for Peru, I have been devouring the country’s literature. The first book I read was Bad Girl by Mario Vargas LLosa. As my friend Andres aptly commented, “He is such a talented writer that even when he writes bad books, he does it beautifully.” The poorly crafted femme fatale in this text made it a frustrating read, but the writing was beautiful, even in translation. Initially I was disappointed that the protagonist, Ricardo, moved to Paris fairly quickly, as I love literature to act as a window into the mountains and valleys I am preparing to explore, but Ricardo continued to receive letters from his aunt and uncle in Lima, which document the fragmented and chaotic political realities in Peru at the time. I have Vargas’ novel Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, queued to read next, as I would love to read a narrative that takes my breath away by Peru’s Noble Prize winning author.

 

Claudia Salazar Jimenez’s book Blood of the Dawn beautifully weaves the narratives of three women impacted by The Shining Path (Sendero Luminoso) Revolution. The “sasachakuy” (“difficult time” or “time of fear”) claimed at least 700,000 lives in its 20-year insurgency according the to Truth and Reconciliation Commission formed in 2003 (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Shining-Path). Salazar Jimenez’s novel is composed in beautiful, haunting prose. I love that she has chosen women as the protagonists in this critique of war; the narrative exploring how extremism and dualistic thinking leads people who are in pursuit of grand ideals to do horrible things. In this novel, women, who are so often the auxiliary characters in war stories, have their tales told in power, vivid fiction.

Sexographies by Gabriela Wiener is a series of fast reading, creative nonfiction pieces that explore a variety of taboo topics. From the lives of transgender Peruvians, both in country and abroad, to her experience interviewing and briefly staying with a polygamist, tantric family who was forced to leave Chile and return to Peru after their lifestyle choices came to light through the media, no topic is too illicit for Wiener’s focus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, I am reading The Conquest of the Incas by John Hemming (a Canadian historian and explorer). It is a dense historical text infused with a surprising number of primary source quotations. It shows the complexity and richness of the Incan Empire before the arrival of the Spaniards, proving background on the series of events (such as a recently deceased Incan head of state, which led to a brutal civil war) that the Spaniards advantageously stumbled into when they arrived. Hemming uses strong descriptions to depict both the lives of the Incas before and after the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors in 1532.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of what Peruvian literature has to offer. I used the blogs below, coupled with the free sample downloads from Amazon, to help me select just a few to enjoy before embarking on my journey.

I have really loved this new approach of travel-complimented-by-literature to help me develop a sense of the rich and multifaceted world I’m about to enter. Who knows what’s in these readings that will help the streets of Cuzco & the hike to Machu Picchu come to life in unexpected ways.

https://theculturetrip.com/south-america/peru/articles/an-introduction-to-peruvian-literature-in-7-writers/

https://fierce.wearemitu.com/fierce-boss-ladies/latina-reads-10-peruvian-writers-you-need-to-add-to-your-reading-list/

Unexpected Time: Adventures in Guatemala

It’s Wednesday at 12:30pm when my student with wild blue eyes and clenched fists nearly punches me in the face. In this moment, it is cemented: our beautiful vision for a charter school was idealistic, the systems are ineffectual and disorganized, and our high-needs student population is suffering in a dangerous and chaotic learning environment. When the bell rings, I put in my two weeks. I find myself in a rare place in life: a little bit of savings and a lot of unplanned time.

Waking up in Antigua, Guatemala is breathtaking: vibrantly colored colonial homes, tropical flowers draping signs, tree-coated volcanoes like a painting at the end of every street.

After walking up 1a Avendida Norte past the teetering ruins of Convento de Capuchinas, the well-used basketball courts and Templo de Santa Rosa de Lima (a small church with a breathtakingly huge facade), I arrive at the turn off for the hike to Cerro de la Cruz: an arduous, short climb of 330 steep steps on a well-maintained path that weaves through the forest.

At the top I am greeted by beautiful views of Antigua stretching out below. Foreigners and locals pose for photos with the spreading city and the giant stone cross. A grandfather in a worn sombrero and a huge smile teaches his grandson how to fly a kite. Children race in clusters. Couples press knees and shoulders while they talk quietly. A perfect way to start my first day in Guatemala.

I pause for food around 1 at a place that calls to me with the internal gardens and the promise of chicken and cheese arepas. I love the way things are hidden inside colonial architecture, past thick cement walls and impenetrable wooden doors with ornate knockers; lives hinted at but concealed. When I get the opportunity to transgress these barriers, I am filled with joy. The restaurant has thick foliage and posters of famous writers and musicians with quotes beneath. The chicken and cheese arepas are transcendent; the michelada delightful.

After lunch, I wander back to the hostel to refill my water bottle and lay down for a minute; I have 8,200 steps. I listen to The Moth and enjoy this delightful place between wake and sleep where I feel my body buzz and know I am on the precipice of slipping away; I get to decide if I will drop over the precipice or stay buoyant on the shore.

I realize my next step should be to change money. Yesterday was a holiday, Dia de los Santos; many people were off work and are again today. I am a little worried that means the banks are closed. I wander down beautiful stone side-streets past roofs with flowers growing from red shingles; always there are massive, tree coated volcanoes in the distance.

There is a metal detector at the bank entrance, which goes off as I enter. The police officer at the door doesn’t look up while I pause awkwardly before moving into the long, snaking line. It is mostly Mayan men not much taller than me. A Mayan woman wearing a colorful skirt enters with her daughter. She calls, “Buenas tardes” to everyone, which reminds me that I read I should greet everyone when walking into crowded spaces, a thought that fills me with dread, not wanting to call more attention to my otherness or initiate conversations I do not have the skill to navigate. Her daughter is in a matching patterned skirt with long hair falling loose down her back and a smile that lights up the room.

After the bank, I wander the streets again. Taking random turns to catch more of Antigua’s hidden delights, I stumble on a sign for a biblioteca en Centro de Formacion de la Cooperacion Espanola. Always a sucker of libraries, this one has even more magnetism with its ancient stone walls and ornate iron gate. Walking through the gate, green gardens and multi-colored, manicured flowers surrounded giant old growth trees. There’s a café with cloth umbrellas. Butterflies flit. I stand gaping at the beauty as a guard approaches to explain in Spanish that entry is free, but I must leave my backpack in a locker. “La fotografia es buena. Disfrutar.”

Established in 1626, the Jesuit monastery and college was an important piece of life in Antigua until the order was expelled in 1767. The structure was devastated by an earthquake six years later, but the Spanish government swooped in to transform it into a cultural space, leaving the Compania de Jesus church next to the main entrance beautifully unrestored.

The first room is full of ancient Mayan carvings from 1500-900 years BC, mostly on funeral urns, proud faces of ancient men. They make me think of my friend J, his adoption at three months from this country where he would have seen his face mirrored in the faces of the people surrounding him and in ancient art. Instead he grew up in Boulder, told proudly of his adopted Scottish ancestry with minimal understanding of his roots. I can’t imagine all the complicated feelings he must have about his ancestry, the family who gave him away, the opportunities he’s had in the States, the loving devotion of his conservative, Trump-supporting mom.

The next room is full of stunning paintings from all over Central America, mostly El Salvador and Guatemala.

Upstairs, I find the library filled with people digging through stacks of old books, earnestly copying down notes into cuadernos, intently undertaking searches on the handful of computers in the center of the room. The children’s section is delightful- the walls popping with colorful decorations and lined with books for varied ages. It reminds me of the Jorge Luis Borges quote, “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.”

Across the street is El Refugio. I grab a café con leche and watch people pour by on the street. Initially, I had assumed the name of this place was in response to the migrant crisis of Latin America, but a Christian rock CD blasts through the speakers, so maybe a reference to the refugee one might find in God?

Outside a man in  his late 50s with a face worn by endless days in the sun and dirt caked fingers wanders back and forth in front of the shop. He has a faded purple backpack he’s tied to the bars that cover the front window. Someone gets in their car to pull out of the parking spot, and he yells encouragement. They drive away quickly. A large silver truck starts to pull into the space, and he waves it in, helps direct, taps on the back of the vehicle to indicate that it’s in the right position. My view is blocked, so I can’t tell if his work garners a tip. This scene reminds me of Bali. The parking attendants who spread themselves throughout Denpasar, some in little orange vests with matching flags, to help wave you into spots and to stop the ceaseless traffic that poured past in complicated webs. The parking attendants, for only 2,000 rupiah (14 cents), would throw themselves in front of traffic to make it possible for you to leave.  

The man unties his purple backpack, stars longingly into the coffee shop. I think of buying him something, but I am stopped by my lack of language, not wanting to make a scene. 

I am finding my Spanish to be better than I expect at times, which is a delightful surprise. For example, at lunch, I was able to communicate fluidly with the waiter. There were no points at which I was unclear about his words or mine. At others, buying bug spray at the pharmacy or ordering my café con leche just now, I struggle to understand and grow a little unmoored. I need to look up again how to say, “Slowly, please.” I keep thinking, “pelan pelan;” the last dregs of my Indonesian rearing their head.

My unexpected time has given me the gift of Antigua: arepas, plant-filled courtyards, a stone library and a late afternoon coffee while watching people slip past on the cobblestone street as the sun sinks beneath the horizon.

Celebrating Environmental Education

One of the things I was most impressed by in Colombia was the focus, throughout all the schools in both Bogota and Cartagena, on environmental education. A representative from the Ministry of Education communicated that environmental sustainability was woven into the curriculum because it is seen integral for the future of the country.

These observations of environmental education in practice culminated on our final Friday at Bertha Gedeon when we were able to witness a massive environmental art competition.

The competition was multifaceted. It included visual arts pieces done as contemplative critiques of environmental issues.

There were also 3-D visual pieces created with reclaimed materials.

And then there was a stunning environmental fashion show. Since students here do not change classrooms (the teachers do) each cohort of students becomes a close-knit family that participates in many projects together. Each 6th through 11th grade class worked to create an outfit out of recycled materials for the fashion show and had one of their members model it on the runway.

Colombia takes beauty very seriously; there is a deep pride that Colombian women are some of the most beautiful in the world. So the fashion show we had the opportunity to judge included not just beautifully constructed dresses made from a fascinating array of materials, but they were modeled by girls who had their runway walks mastered. They walked with confidence, struck poses, blew us kisses and even dropped gifts on the judges’ table.

 

I loved seeing how committed the school was to supporting environmental education. Project-based learning ideally culminates in an exhibition in front of an authentic audience; Bertha Gideon beautifully demonstrated how engaging exhibitions can be with their afternoon celebration of eco-art.

Co-Teaching and Our Poetry Lesson

Rosalia is a master teacher. She is deeply committed to education, constantly learning about pedagogy and willing to experiment with different modalities in her classroom, seeing how various theories work in practice.

Rosalia was selected as our partner teacher for this exchange because she participated in the Teaching Excellence and Achievement (TEA) program through the US Embassy. The TEA Program is a program of the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs and US Department of State. Ninety teachers from around the world were a part of her program, only three of whom were from Colombia. During the program, teachers are flown to the US for 6-weeks to increase their English competency and enhance educational pedagogy.

Rosalia was also awarded the Premio Compartir al Maestro. Out of 1700 teachers from across Colombia who applied, only 20 were selected to receive this award; her prize was an all-expenses paid trip to China.

Rosalia teaches 10th and 11th grade students English. She is committed to making education fun and engaging, which has inspired her to focus on project based learning. She provides students the opportunity to engage in authentic ways with acquired English vocabulary as they create projects for authentic audience. A few years ago, Rosalia became a part of the TECHO program, which connected her students with a volunteer organization building houses. It was the first time that she engaged in a social project in her classroom. She noted that while many of her students are in a economic situation not much better than the people whose houses they were building, the act of contributing love and labor helped her students see themselves as having something to contribute to the world and shifted their vision of themselves.

The social project her students are currently involved in is collecting plastic caps, like those from water and soda bottles. The caps can be exchanged for money, which will all be donated to help pay for cancer treatments for a young girl in their community.

On Thursday we had the opportunity to co-teach a lesson with Rosalia, and on Friday we led instruction on a descriptive writing and poetry lesson I designed (Shout out to Jana Clark for the inspiration!).

Rosalia’s lesson wove us in seamlessly as co-teachers. The students were working on mastering the past tense of words they already knew in present tense. Rachel and I were useful for the lesson in a variety of ways. Rosalia wanted her students to hear our ascents and inflections when we pronounced the words. She also utilized us as resources so the class could be broken into smaller groups for more focused instruction.

 

Rosalia’s classes have a fantastic pace and energy. Every 10min, the students were engaging in a new activity that built upon the last. There were a number of interesting games and competitions, opportunities to listen and speak in large groups & small groups, and a shifting focus on reading, writing, speaking and listening.

Rosalia then showed us how the work we did would grow into the students creating fake advertisements for invented products. One of the projects she showed us was a hilarious advertisement for Englishcilina, a pill that would help its consumer immediately understand English.

Some student feedback from the lesson we taught collaboratively:

On Friday, we had the opportunity to teach a lesson about descriptive language and symbolism that culminated in the students writing poems. Our class was a group of forty engaged and curious 11th graders.

I was really nervous as we took over the class. It was a large group, and I had realized in the days leading up to the lesson, as we met the students and started to converse with them, that some of the vocabulary was going to be beyond their grasp, and one of the things we were asking them to do, which required knowing a variety of synonyms, might be impossible given their level of English proficiency. But Rosalia had already downloaded our slides and printed the handouts, which was amazing (she is so organized!), so I felt like we needed to run the assignment as it was instead of making adjustments. I was also nervous because the technical adviser for IREX, the International Relationship and Exchange Board who designed and organized our exchange, was observing the class.

From the start teaching with Rachel was such a pleasure. I have never had the opportunity to work with a special education teacher who pushes in (meaning they help co-teach the class). Our special education programs at DSA and DCIS provided academic support as an additional class that students had in their schedule, but I never had the opportunity for the inventive collaboration that co-teaching allows. Rachel was amazing at jumping in when their were holes in my instruction or she thought of alternate way to explain an idea to help reach more kids. Additionally, she, Rosalia, Sarah from IREX and I all walked around the room answering questions and checking in with students. It was lovely to teach in such a supportive context.

The initial part of the instruction went ok. As I had suspected, finding synonyms for verbs was beyond the vocabulary ability of many of the students, but we modified to meet them where they were, asking them to just rework the subject and object of the sentences instead. The lesson pushed them to contemplate and play with descriptive language and expand their English vocabulary. One of the lines I most remember was a rewrite of the line “He forgot it” which was transformed into “A romantic man forgot his red rose on the bus.”

The second part of the lesson shifted to discussing symbolism, with colors as the conduit. Rachel had purchased bags of Skittles in the States, so we distributed small piles to each of the students and invited them to work in partners or on their own to think about what the colors symbolized. After going through a short example poem with the class, we read through some sample poems written by students in the States, helping them unpack vocabulary and contemplate the way colors were used.

Finally, students were given time to write their own 8+line poems that utilized color symbolism. Given the challenge that other parts of the lesson had provided, and not knowing what if any familiarity they had with poetry, I was a little nervous to see how the students transitioned into writing their pieces.

Immediately, they were engaged, working to communicate the truths of their hearts. Love poems for novios and novias, poems about the deep ties of friendship and family, poems about loneliness and loss, a love poem/critique of Cartagena’s beauty and dysfunction. It’s amazing the way composing poetry speaks to teenagers around the world; a beautiful conduit for expressing the complicated truths crashing tumultuously inside of them.

After giving them an opportunity to read at least one line of their poems in groups, we opened up for sharing with the class. Immediately dozens of hands shot into the air. It was so lovely to hear them recite their newly sculpted pieces.

Debriefing the lesson afterwards, I was a bit self-critical of the first part of the lesson. More visual supports, easier vocabulary and not giving students so many choices in poems and providing more visual vocabulary would have helped every comprehend the lesson. I was really proud of the poems that they wrote and touched by their commitment to the process, even when it was hard. Sarah mentioned what a good reminder it was that having students engage in productive struggle is an important part of education. Rosalia was excited to see the way students responded to writing poems. How lovely to bring descriptive language lessons, color poems and Skittles to Cartagena.

Some student poems:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lsY0bwtmhGOgx0d6jgTJycVjFoVfqywG7PpyBv1qEYw/edit?usp=sharing

Student feedback on the lesson is below:

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If you’re interested in our lesson plan, the slides are here:

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1i02F-3R6H5E2OR5WjY3QDbBtbxJVim-ajZg2lbkHDZA/edit?usp=sharing

 

Observations of Escolar Bertha Gedeon de Balain

Escolar Bertha Gedeon de Balain is predominately strata one and two (the children of street peddlers and day laborers), though because of the school’s high ranking– fifth in all of Cartagena– families from strata three & four opt to send their children there as well. It was interesting touring the school, sitting in on classes and talking to teachers in an attempt to understand the special magic at work to help kids succeed despite the lack of resources and the difficulty of their home lives.

Escolar Bertha Gedeon feels positive and productive as you walk through their open-air, tile entryway. There are inspirational signs and banners suspended from walls, and student art adorns the cement perimeter of the school.

 

Glancing through the barred-windows, most students appear to be curious and engaged in their lessons.

The class sizes here are astonishing. The average class size for 10th and 11th grade classrooms is 40 students. In grades 6-9 in Cartagena classrooms, the average class size is 60. In my high school classes of 35 the last few years, I have felt overwhelmed, unable to give students the individualized instruction that would best meet their needs. I can not imagine having 60 students in a class, let alone 60 6th graders.

Another interesting difference between schools in Colombia and the US is that the physical buildings here are taxed way beyond capacity with the number of students they serve, so there are two school sessions during the day, and students attend one or the other. The first session runs from 6:30am-12:30; the second session from 1:00-7:00pm. Each class lasts one hour. The teachers rotate classrooms and the students remain in place all day, with 5min breaks between courses where they can race outside to buy raspados or play soccer.

Most of the classrooms do not have AC. Instead one or two ceiling fans impotently stir the air above the cramped classes. Temperatures in Cartagena average 92* with 90% humidity.

Next door to Escolar Bertha Gedeon is a chicken “processing plant” where chickens’ beaks and other un-usable parts are burned. It gives off an overwhelming odor. When the meat processing plant was approached about discontinuing this practice during the school day, Bertha Gedeon was given a gift of two air conditioning units and a couple fans, so some of the classrooms closest to the facility could close their windows and doors. For those who bemoan the Clean Air and Clean Water legislation or zoning regulations in the US, I ask you to please come visit Bertha Gedeon while chicken beaks are burning on a 92* day in Cartagena.

The factory is in the background to the right, behind the cement wall.

The federal government in Bogata has erected a lunch policy similar to that in the US, which is supposed to ensure that students get at least one meal a day. In Cartagena, the program does not exist despite the federal mandate.

The last mayor elected in Cartagena, Mauel Vicente Duque, ended up being arrested for conspiracy to commit a crime, bribery and other charges which were brought to light when an improperly constructed building collapsed, killing 21 people. His arrest has left Cartagena without a functioning mayor and struggling local government since 2016.

Without a functioning local government, the lunch program slowed down initially, providing food only three days a week. Then two. Now the cafeterias have entirely closed. Much like the US, the meal at school for many of these students was the only one they could depend on having each day.

Because of the immense class sizes, lack of technology and often cramped spaces, most instruction is teacher-led from the front of the room. Students’ ability to focus as they listen to lectures and jot down notes, despite the heat, is note-worthy.

In the middle school classroom, I was really impressed by the total physical response instruction the English teacher provided her students. The day’s lesson was on the names of body parts. She started with Simon Says to reawaken prior knowledge through movement and get them interested in the lesson. Next she taped up a visual with the parts of the body labeled to teach them new vocabulary before playing them an audiotape about a fictional doctor’s visit and asking the students comprehension questions about what they had heard. Then she played the song “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” and had the kids all stand up and dance along. The willingness of fifty-three 6th grade students to participate without descending into chaos was really impressive.

 

We visited the school’s tech room, a rarity in school in Cartagena, and saw the computer lab. While they do not have many computers and only the technology teacher has access to them, but they do have computers. I was impressed by the coding curriculum he was working on with his students. I have talked with my friend in the US who works in coding about how valuable this skill is for young people, teaching them logic and helping them understand the interfaces that they constantly utilize in their lives. I have never worked at a school in the US that offers coding, so it was wonderful to see a strong curriculum here.

I had the opportunity to sit in on a 10th grade history class where the teacher was presenting a multidisciplinary lesson focused on environmental concerns past and present in Colombia. It is clear that this teacher has a strong relationship with her students, moving easily from joking to serious instruction. When she asked for volunteers to share their thoughts, hands shot up around the room, and they not only answered the question posed but provided thoughtful evidence in persuasive arguments to support their answers.

The Chemistry class was led by a teacher who was clearly a master storyteller. The students sat at attention as he explained chemical bonding through a mixture of dramatic gestures, charismatic anecdotes and drawings on the front board. This classroom was packed with 39 10th graders, desks filling every inch of space except a small area for the professor to stand addressing the students from the front of the room. To fit, I was sitting in a chair filling the doorway, blocking the exit.

Despite huge systemic issues, which would be justification for paralysis and defeat in students and teachers alike, Escolar Bertha Gedeon is a place of high expectations, creativity, critical thinking and hope. It has been inspirational to be in the classrooms, seeing how much people accomplish with so few resources.

 

 

 

Introducing Ourselves

Both Rachel and I gave presentations to the students to help them get to know us better and practice their English.

We created slides with a mix of English and images to share about our lives, families and favorite activities.

I was really impressed by the level of attentive listening they brought to listening to us present, some of them even jotting down notes.

After our presentations, Rosalia asked comprehension questions based off what we shared, and students could recall a surprising amount of detail, including that my roommates dog is named Ursula.

The students then followed up by posing questions about our lives and the US in general. One of the first questions was, “What do you think of Donald Trump?”, followed by, “Why is there so much gun violence in your schools?” and “What do you think of racists?”. I was so impressed by the students to have the background knowledge, English capacity and curiosity to pose such deep and thoughtful questions. Answering these questions and providing nuanced US perspectives, especially since Rachel and I digress on issues like gun control and live in very different communities, was an opportunity for the students to see a much more complicated vision of the US then what the media portrays.

A link to my presentation if you’re curious what I shared:

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1Eg-TvL4MUB8jSmpf3AMYtPuOeipEWfou_E-y5_fflVg/edit?usp=sharing