My First Day of "School"

I’m not really sure where to begin to attempt to explain the chaos that ensued during my first day at el comedor. The stories I’d heard about past volunteers and how few have made an impact and few actually accomplished something during their stay now makes complete sense. I bow down to those who were able to keep peace, especially when volunteering alone.

Valeria and I arrived at 11am. No one was there, save one mother who was starting to prepare lunch. We decided to take this “free” time to clean up the classroom. We tried to organize the books, restack the magazines, sweep the floor, and put toys in their place. I came across the oddest assortment of books. There were your basic children’s books, teaching numbers and letters, both in English and Spanish. Yet then I found a Spanish book on civil law, a few that belonged at a medical school, various encyclopedias, tons of mini Spanish-English dictionaries, and books that looked to be from the 1800s, with pages all worn and brown, where one couldn’t even read the writing. I came across many sheets of paper, obviously from past volunteers, with the months, days, and numbers written out in English. Asking questions like: What is your name? How old are you? The further I dove into the piles of paper, the more I realized that each volunteer must bring (or buy) their own supplies. The mess of resources is impossible to sort through and use; so the comedor is left with tons of great reading materials and books to teach students English, Spanish, geography, math, chemistry, everything…but there is no order, no schedule. Just like the roads in Salta, it is every man for himself.

Around noon or so is when all hell broke loose. Valeria had left, so I was on my own. Kids started trickling in, but by 12:30 there were at least 15 kids, all wanting to do something different. The boys were wrestling, and throwing flashcards of English words at each other. The girls were coloring and cutting out hearts and butterflies, but would argue when one girl would take another one’s pencil or scissors. They would play with legos, dumping the entire box on the ground, as they scattered across the floor. They would play for about 10 minutes and suffer from the well-known ADD child syndrome in which they loose interest, move on to something else, and leave a mess behind. This chaos only escalated as we got closer to lunchtime. By 1:15, I stopped counting. Families came in and out, people started sitting inside the comedor, feeding their children. Around 1:30 I decided I deserved to eat, and had no choice but to leave about 15 kids running around the classroom wreaking havoc.

I sat at a table with a few young girls, probably between 7 and 10 years of age. We didn’t speak. I just ate, and watched what was going on around me. Most people just stared at me and whispered—but I expected nothing less. In terms of numbers, my guess would have to be about 50 kids, if not more; plus about 10 or 12 teenagers, many young mothers, a few older mothers and a few old men. I managed to squeeze out a 30 minute lunch break before kids starting running in and complaining how another kid had taken a toy out of the classroom (they weren’t allowed to take toys outside so we wouldn’t lose anything).

At 2pm I went back into the lion’s den. The lunch rush had started to die down, but there were at least 20 kids playing. I knew there was no point in trying to keep order, so I played with a child at a time, normally whichever kid was sitting in the corner quietly. I know I wouldn’t accomplish much if I started yelling.

By 2:30, the comedor had quieted down to about 8 kids. I guess the rush before is what happens daily for lunch, as most kids just go home with their parents. The few mothers that work there were cleaning in the back, and the classroom looked worse than it did when Valeria and I had arrived that morning.

Two boys ask me to play UNO with them. I played one game and said I’ll only play another if we clean up the classroom. I was surprised I got as much help as I did (although a couple boys lost interest quickly and just ran around throwing plastic fruit), but eventually, we cleaned up a majority of the mess (I could finally see the floor). After another game of UNO, I attempted to keep order by playing a game with everyone. I racked my brain for ideas, and eventually decided to teach them how to play Sharks and Minnows. They loved it—but after about 15 minutes, lost interest. So then we played Duck, Duck, Goose (Pato, Pato, Patudo), which lasted another 15 minutes.

Around 3, one mother had asked how long her kid could stay (i.e. how long I was staying). Even though I should stay until 4:30 or 5, I said 4pm, since I knew today needed to end a little sooner for my own well-being. It was then I realized that even though I’m referred to as la profesora (and one mother was kind enough to tell them all to behave for me), in reality, I’m closer to being a nanny. El comedor, after lunch, basically serves as a day-care center, to watch the kids so the parents don’t have to.

With between 8 and 50 screaming children, it’s impossible to run a class, teach English successfully, or do anything. Some kids are 16 years old; some are 3, and all the ages in between. You can’t organize anything well enough to provide for them all, much less hold their attention for more than 15 minutes.

Today was a very difficult day for me. I don’t really think I’m sufficiently explaining the situation in this blog. When I came home, I was at a loss for words with Laura. All I could tell her was that I was tired.

It is going to be a long summer.

Which reminds me, winter has finally hit. It’s cold and cloudy outside, which makes the 3-wall classroom a little more of a challenge. And I have a cold coming on too...