Finding Motivation

Today it really hit me that each day I go to el comedor, I will be presented with a completely different situation. A schedule is virtually impossible.

I had bought a soccer ball last night thinking I could keep the kids busy today by playing a nice, long soccer game. But that didn’t happen. Not as many boys came today, the majority were girls. Miguel, the young boy who ranges from being a hassle, to helping clean up, to conversationally chatting quietly with me during lunch, wasn’t there. I was expecting wrestling and fighting. Guti and Bolsa (Bolsa literally means "bag" and is only a nickname, but no one actually remembers his real name), two young brothers, had brought their tiny puppy and were throwing it around recklessly, which kept most of the kids entertained (I wouldn’t be surprised if the puppy doesn’t survive). As a funny side note, they have an even younger brother everyone calls Papel, or Papelito (which means "paper" or "little paper"). Don't ask me why, no one knows (his real name is Jorge).

There were 3 girls all at least 11 years of age, who wanted to practice their English and voluntarily took out small chalkboards and starting copying down English words written on the wall. Some knew more than they would give themselves credit for, some knew a little, and the younger girls still couldn’t read, but copied the letters. I had at least 8 kids continuously running up to me showing me what they had written. I asked them to say it in English and tell me what it meant in Spanish.

Of course, there were still a few that played to the side, spilling legos around, but I worked to keep the majority busy. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that they wanted to learn. Just so many things have happened over the past three days, it’s tough to find what motivates them—especially when WHO is there varies daily thus changing what works and what doesn’t. It appears as though I need to go in every day with at least 10 different plans, to accommodate for whoever shows up, and hopefully, just hopefully, one will work…

Whenever my brothers and I would argue, my mom would always tell us to “pick our battles.” While this is an important lesson and useful throughout life, it’s often tough to decide which battles to pick. I can’t decide when is the right time to ask people to clean up, such that a majority will actually help, or when is the right time to put my foot down about throwing paper airplanes outside of the classroom.

I often end up just standing and watching the kids as they run around, hoping to observe enough to soak in the “secret” for peace. The past three days have been stressful, but I need to accept the fact that I’ll need at least a week, if not more, to catch my bearings and successfully run each day at el comedor. It’s just finding the patience and motivation to survive that week that will be the toughest.