Chile still has more to teach me, it seems. My experience here is a bottomless pit of (often infuriating) life lessons and (more or less inevitable) changes of attitude. The lessons feel less like a gently leading me to a new world view like one leads a horse to water and more like Chile is slapping me across the face with them or hiding them in places I don't expect, so that they startle me when I pull back the covers to get in bed or jump out at me when I turn a corner in the streets.
In my interview for this position, I went on and on about how flexible I am and how adaptable I can be. I was sitting in the October sunlight in the hallway of the new Center for Community on Campus, on my one-hour lunch break from advising university students longing to go abroad. I felt compelled to prove how adaptable I can be.
"Put me anywhere there is a position," I remember myself saying. "I can adapt to anything."
It's been a ride so far. And I have proved to myself that the statement I made in my interview was true. Especially since lately I have felt a bit like my living situation had transformed into a telenovela.
The lesson that Chile appears to be slapping me with this week: too much attachment is just not worth it. Attachment to things, people, ideologies, customs, personal space...lo che sea. If it is more like grasping and clinging, it will only bring pain. Everything changes, and we cannot change that.
What a second. Did Chile just teach me to become a Buddha? Holy shit, huevón.
I have been clinging too much to my things. To my customs. To my language. To the extremely high expectations I have for myself and my students. To my friends and acquaintances. And all that I have accomplished by worrying and stressing is to make myself feel like crap, no más.
If I let go of my desire to control and allow things to be how they are, without stressing, what will I lose? Maybe my frustration, exhaustion, and nervous stomach. I can't change everything. Maybe, just maybe, I can't change ANYthing. I hope that the reality is somehwere in the middle, but it remains to be seen. And given how much my students appear to like chucking gigantic spitwads at my butt and how little English they appear to be learning...we might be leaning toward no change in the world from my time here. Awesome.
So, this week I am practicing detachment. Not disinterest. Not disillusionment. Not giving up. Calm detachment that gives me a bit of space to breathe.
And who knows? Maybe the point is not to try to change the world, or even to try to change my students. Maybe the point is to let it all change me. And if I am changing, the goal is already reached. The game is already won.
16 May 2011
10 May 2011
I'm Not Leaving Until Someone Gives Me My Passport...
The only thing that never changes is that everythhng does.
I am nearly at the midpoint of my time in Chile, which seems to simulatneously be a sad realization and a happy one. I know that I am growing and changing...I feel it down to the muscles in my legs that have grown hard and flexible from all the walking, hiking, jumping fences, yoga, and aerobics. I feel it in my ability to put up with more than I ever thought I would, both in terms of culture shock and work. I see it in my mentality. I see it in my style. I hear it in my voice.
Could it be that I am finally growing up? For realsies this time? I notice a strength and determination that I always knew was within me, but that almost never had a true challenge to withstand and overcome. I am learning to choose my battles wisely. To express myself concretely. To assure that everyone knows how hard I and the other volunteers are working. Prhaps most importantly, I am learning to trust my own internal compass and follow what I know to be true or correct without giving too much credence to the opinions of detractors.
A good example of all of this came about yesterday at the office responsible for doling out visas for foreigners in Chile. I went in last week to give my passport to the woman who processes them, so that she could finally allow me to legally live and volunteer in Chile (two months late...eh, pasa nada). She told me it would be ready on Thursday of last week.
When I returned on Thursday, I noticed that the office was closed. I asked around for Señora Edith, but she wasn't there. A few more days passed with my passport in her filing cabinet.
Yesterday, I went back to the office and the Señora was in a meeting. "I can't help you," said the woman telling me that she was busy, "I know nothing about foreign visas."
"I just want my passport back, please. It has been here a week. I cannot go around without it any longer," I said. Secretly, I feared she had somehow lost it.
"I can't help you. Come back later."
"I am teaching in a school here in Natales all day, every day. I cannot come back later. May I speak with Señora Edith please?"
"She is busy."
"She told me it would be ready on Thursday."
"She is in a meeting."
"Please, I need my passport. It cannot stay here longer."
"I can't help you."
"Right. I am not leaving until someone gives me my passport."
The woman I was talking to (mind you, this whole conversation was in Spanish) blinked in disbelief.
"I cannot return later. Is there someone who can give me my passport, please?"
She rolled her eyes and grabbed another woman from the office. She began looking for my passport, and tried to hand me a Russian one that happened to be on the desk.
"I am not Russian. I am from the US. My name is Coleen Monroe."
Searching through the filing cabinet, she asked me to repeat my name two more times. Eventually I helped point out my folder to her and she finally gave my passport back to me. Phew. No calling the US consulate in Santiago for me to say that the gobernación took my passport.
"Thank you very much. Have a good day."
Despite all this lofty rhetoric, the days continue to pass in some semblance of normality. Maybe it isn't a grand victory that I managed to get my passport back. Maybe it shouldn't have to be such a fight for every little daily task. Maybe I am exaggerating how much it can be a pain in the ass to do these simple things.
Sure feels like a small victory, though. I've got to take them where I can.
I am nearly at the midpoint of my time in Chile, which seems to simulatneously be a sad realization and a happy one. I know that I am growing and changing...I feel it down to the muscles in my legs that have grown hard and flexible from all the walking, hiking, jumping fences, yoga, and aerobics. I feel it in my ability to put up with more than I ever thought I would, both in terms of culture shock and work. I see it in my mentality. I see it in my style. I hear it in my voice.
Could it be that I am finally growing up? For realsies this time? I notice a strength and determination that I always knew was within me, but that almost never had a true challenge to withstand and overcome. I am learning to choose my battles wisely. To express myself concretely. To assure that everyone knows how hard I and the other volunteers are working. Prhaps most importantly, I am learning to trust my own internal compass and follow what I know to be true or correct without giving too much credence to the opinions of detractors.
A good example of all of this came about yesterday at the office responsible for doling out visas for foreigners in Chile. I went in last week to give my passport to the woman who processes them, so that she could finally allow me to legally live and volunteer in Chile (two months late...eh, pasa nada). She told me it would be ready on Thursday of last week.
When I returned on Thursday, I noticed that the office was closed. I asked around for Señora Edith, but she wasn't there. A few more days passed with my passport in her filing cabinet.
Yesterday, I went back to the office and the Señora was in a meeting. "I can't help you," said the woman telling me that she was busy, "I know nothing about foreign visas."
"I just want my passport back, please. It has been here a week. I cannot go around without it any longer," I said. Secretly, I feared she had somehow lost it.
"I can't help you. Come back later."
"I am teaching in a school here in Natales all day, every day. I cannot come back later. May I speak with Señora Edith please?"
"She is busy."
"She told me it would be ready on Thursday."
"She is in a meeting."
"Please, I need my passport. It cannot stay here longer."
"I can't help you."
"Right. I am not leaving until someone gives me my passport."
The woman I was talking to (mind you, this whole conversation was in Spanish) blinked in disbelief.
"I cannot return later. Is there someone who can give me my passport, please?"
She rolled her eyes and grabbed another woman from the office. She began looking for my passport, and tried to hand me a Russian one that happened to be on the desk.
"I am not Russian. I am from the US. My name is Coleen Monroe."
Searching through the filing cabinet, she asked me to repeat my name two more times. Eventually I helped point out my folder to her and she finally gave my passport back to me. Phew. No calling the US consulate in Santiago for me to say that the gobernación took my passport.
"Thank you very much. Have a good day."
Despite all this lofty rhetoric, the days continue to pass in some semblance of normality. Maybe it isn't a grand victory that I managed to get my passport back. Maybe it shouldn't have to be such a fight for every little daily task. Maybe I am exaggerating how much it can be a pain in the ass to do these simple things.
Sure feels like a small victory, though. I've got to take them where I can.
03 May 2011
Backpedal!!
Wait wait wait wait wait wait a just a second. I think my blog has gotten a little bit complain-y and appears to be leaking frustration like an old car leaks break fluid. Because I received so many concerned responses to it, I want to make sure that everyone out there knows that I am not in some God-forsaken barren landscape, teaching English to completely unwilling students and suffering through a mounatin of dishes as high as the ceiling each night.
Yes, there are hard times. There always are. I cannot grow without suffering through some tough situations and being forced to learn how to rely on myself. Pain is the the water that makes us grow up and blossom. Frustration is thhe MiracleGrow.
There are so many wonderful things about Chile and about what I am doing here that it would be impossible to recount them all. Just the same, I am going to try to enlighten you about some of them.
-There is plentiful bread with butter and marmelade almost every day. Homemade marmelade. Sometimes homemade bread. So delicious I often eat five pieces a day.
-Chileans are joyful people and laugh easily. Even in my fourth language, in which I nearly completely lack tact and subtlety, I can make jokes and make people crack up. It's contagious. And it makes it really difficult to take myself so goddamned seriously in classes (for the better).
-Seeing my students' eyes light up when they know the answer to a question makes my day. Even when they don't quite say it right, or sometimes especially when they don't. The other day I was teaching the alphabet to my third graders and we got to the letter "P."
I asked, "How do we pronounce this letter?"
In unison, at the tops of their lungs, "Poooooooooooooooo!!!"
I had to put the card down because I was laughing so hard! Then I said, "No, the other one! Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"
-I am learning to be extremely resourceful, flexible, and innovative since I lack materials and am trying to teach without any previous knowledge.
-My Spanish is beginning to kick ass. But seriously. And sometimes I even have a tiny Chilean accent!
-Despite at first glance appearing empty, this part of Patagonia is actually quite full of things to do and see. My desire to spend time outside in the nature has never been greater, and I felt that it will continue for sure in the coming years. I feel lucky to be here every time I look at the mountains.
So you see? It's not all bad at all. It's great.
Yes, there are hard times. There always are. I cannot grow without suffering through some tough situations and being forced to learn how to rely on myself. Pain is the the water that makes us grow up and blossom. Frustration is thhe MiracleGrow.
There are so many wonderful things about Chile and about what I am doing here that it would be impossible to recount them all. Just the same, I am going to try to enlighten you about some of them.
-There is plentiful bread with butter and marmelade almost every day. Homemade marmelade. Sometimes homemade bread. So delicious I often eat five pieces a day.
-Chileans are joyful people and laugh easily. Even in my fourth language, in which I nearly completely lack tact and subtlety, I can make jokes and make people crack up. It's contagious. And it makes it really difficult to take myself so goddamned seriously in classes (for the better).
-Seeing my students' eyes light up when they know the answer to a question makes my day. Even when they don't quite say it right, or sometimes especially when they don't. The other day I was teaching the alphabet to my third graders and we got to the letter "P."
I asked, "How do we pronounce this letter?"
In unison, at the tops of their lungs, "Poooooooooooooooo!!!"
I had to put the card down because I was laughing so hard! Then I said, "No, the other one! Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"
-I am learning to be extremely resourceful, flexible, and innovative since I lack materials and am trying to teach without any previous knowledge.
-My Spanish is beginning to kick ass. But seriously. And sometimes I even have a tiny Chilean accent!
-Despite at first glance appearing empty, this part of Patagonia is actually quite full of things to do and see. My desire to spend time outside in the nature has never been greater, and I felt that it will continue for sure in the coming years. I feel lucky to be here every time I look at the mountains.
So you see? It's not all bad at all. It's great.
It's Enough
Teaching. It's what I came here to do, right? Right?
Yes. I still feel called to be here, still called to be here for these kids. I still feel alone in my planning and like I am flying by the seat of my pants to learn as I go how to teach. Sometimes (yeah, let's be honest...every single day) I need to take a long walk with my ipod and go fast enough that the frustration finally cedes to my endorphins and the Patagonian wind, drifting off to return the following morning.
I have a reputation as a hard-ass amongst my students because I ask them to stay in their seats, not use cell phones, not hit each other, and copy a few lines every day in English. My new rule this week is that I am going to count how many times I have to say a simple instruction (for example, "Sit down"). If I have to say it more than ten times without a result, the class loses its sticker for the day...meaning that the may lose the inter-class sticker competition.
In a perfect world, this would be relatively easy and my students might be able to learn more.
In the real world, it takes forty minutes to write down five sentences. My students grab me by the hands and clothes to get my attention and run around the classroom throwing paper at each other. The girls take all of the ink from their pens and smear it all over themselves and their companions. My eighth graders hurl insults at me almost as hard as they hurl their chairs against the ground.
Not to sound melodramatic, but I often feel like I've been fighting in the trenches all day when I get out of school.
But each day is a new day. Occasionally my students surprise me and make it all worth it. One of my first graders today revealed that she can write as well or better than some of the fifth graders.
I'm not even concerned with breaking even anymore. I just want a little sprinkling of good surprises and minor victories to season the greater confusion, frustration, and lack of progress. It's enough.
Yes. I still feel called to be here, still called to be here for these kids. I still feel alone in my planning and like I am flying by the seat of my pants to learn as I go how to teach. Sometimes (yeah, let's be honest...every single day) I need to take a long walk with my ipod and go fast enough that the frustration finally cedes to my endorphins and the Patagonian wind, drifting off to return the following morning.
I have a reputation as a hard-ass amongst my students because I ask them to stay in their seats, not use cell phones, not hit each other, and copy a few lines every day in English. My new rule this week is that I am going to count how many times I have to say a simple instruction (for example, "Sit down"). If I have to say it more than ten times without a result, the class loses its sticker for the day...meaning that the may lose the inter-class sticker competition.
In a perfect world, this would be relatively easy and my students might be able to learn more.
In the real world, it takes forty minutes to write down five sentences. My students grab me by the hands and clothes to get my attention and run around the classroom throwing paper at each other. The girls take all of the ink from their pens and smear it all over themselves and their companions. My eighth graders hurl insults at me almost as hard as they hurl their chairs against the ground.
Not to sound melodramatic, but I often feel like I've been fighting in the trenches all day when I get out of school.
But each day is a new day. Occasionally my students surprise me and make it all worth it. One of my first graders today revealed that she can write as well or better than some of the fifth graders.
I'm not even concerned with breaking even anymore. I just want a little sprinkling of good surprises and minor victories to season the greater confusion, frustration, and lack of progress. It's enough.
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