Saturday, April 25, 2015

Thoughts on Teaching

Let me just remind you all, I am not a trained educator. I have no degree in teaching, and only most of a Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification; I don’t actually have the certification. That being said, I can tell you truthfully: one of my biggest joys here at Esperanza Viva is giving English classes.

Mario on the first day of school
For me, there is nothing like being a teacher. Even on the day when I’m stressed, even when I’m sick or just exhausted, walking into the classroom is an instant mood elevator. I love to see my student’s progress as they advance on what has to be the world’s worst language to learn, and their joy as they recognize their own improvement, because it means that all of the time and thought I put into planning their lessons and coming up with real ways to learn have not been in vain.

I have trouble expressing what I love so much about teaching, especially because it is so challenging. There are days when I wonder what I’m doing; I have no training and I’m probably screwing these kids up for life, language-wise. I second guess my handling of situations and sometimes, honestly, my lessons are boring and that makes me feel like a failure as a teacher and possibly as a human being. I’m constantly trying to improve my plans, to come up with a way to help the kids learn in a way that makes sense to them, that is appropriate for their age and grade level-things that don’t always match up, when you have fifteen-year-olds working at a fourth grade level. It’s hard and difficult and exhausting and stressful: why do I love it?

I know the answer, though.

I love it because Jenny can count to ten without stopping.

Satyuri, Ale, & Ada
I love it because Anibal figured out how to use a Spanish-English dictionary.

I love it because Ingrid and Italia finally figured out English is not Spanish with an Gringo accent.

I love it because Emmanuel asked me for a pencil without stopping to think about it.

I love it because the entire third grade played “Go Fish” for a half an hour in English last week.

I love it because of the “I love my teacher” notes.

Kindergarten class learning about their senses
I love it because Vicky learned to say “cat” instead of “gat.”

I love it because of the look on Toño’s face when he answers something correctly.

I love it because when I tell Ada to ask me in English, she does it without blinking.


I love it because I know what I’m doing is affecting my students. I can see it. We aren’t just learning verbs and nouns; we’re learning how to keep trying. We’re learning the importance of books and good attitudes. We’re learning teamwork. And most of all, we’re learning that no matter what anyone has been told, with enough persistence and hard work, they can learn-and they can see themselves learning.

For kids who have never done well in school before, and for teachers who sometimes feel overwhelmed with their responsibilities alike, this is amazing, and it encourages us to keep going when things get rough.

2014 last day of school celebration

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Oh, Erika

According to my friends, Erika has a lot
in common with Pinkalicious in this picture.
If you’re tired of temper tantrums, raise your hand.

I’m raising my hand.

Erika has mastered
the art of the photo bomb. Count
them below!
I love Erika. She’s a ray of sunshine that usually has a smile on her face that breaks my heart. My little girl with the permanent bed head and the missing front teeth, Erika is more likely than anyone else to be wearing something that absolutely does not match, and not care even a little bit. She loves to play, and plays hard. She’s my extreme child: extremely happy, extremely loud, extremely resistant to bedtime, and sometimes, extremely naughty.


Erika arrived with her sisters Abigail and Teresa on August 1. I was the one who brought them in, got them settled and spent the most time with them the first few weeks that they were at Esperanza Viva. One thing that was glaringly apparent after spending some time with Erika was that she had a listening problem. And by listening problem, I mean that she blatantly ignored anyone who told her what to do, choosing instead to do whatever she wanted, which (at the time) included:
My first picture of Erika,
the day she arrived.

Biting her sister Teresa,

Jumping off bunk beds and tables,

Trying to stick her entire fist in the dog’s mouth (and being outraged at what happened next),

Drinking three bottles of Coca-Cola an hour before bed,

Etc., ad naseum. 

We’ve spend the last seven months building Erika’s moral compass, because it simply wasn’t there when she arrived. She isn’t a bad child; she just has never had to be obedient before. Her mother was a single mom trying to keep her family afloat and until arriving at EV, the main authority in Erika’s life was her nine-year-old sister Abi. Of course she couldn’t behave herself: she didn’t know how.

Christmas fun
She didn’t know how to control her emotions. She couldn’t calm herself down; when she got excited she simply lost control. The same thing happened when she got angry. Erika had no way to demonstrate her emotions, either. She didn’t know how to show love, affection, friendship. She took what she wanted and was bewildered when the other girls got upset with her: she didn’t understand why they didn’t just take their toys back. And when faced with the consequences of her actions, Erika usually opted for the time-honored favorite of children dealing with things they dislike everywhere: the temper tantrum.

Lost a sweatshirt? Temper tantrum.

Can’t color right now? Temper tantrum.

Facing punishment for throwing a temper tantrum? 
Worse temper tantrum.

And so it goes, which brings us right up to today. Erika remains the reigning temper-tantrum queen, although there are a couple other little girls fighting for her crown. To be fair to the seven-year-old: her temper tantrums are getting shorter as she’s learning to control her emotions-major coup for the supervisors! We’re down to only one a day, and sometimes entire days pass without any, which is unprecedented, and encouraging for me.


What helps me when I get down about Erika’s behavior is remembering the little girl I met last August: the little hellion who was as likely to hit you as she was to hug you, the little girl who regularly told her sisters she hated them. Erika today is a loving little girl, who is still learning not to hit but who would defend her sisters to the last breath and spends more time with them than anyone else. Does she behave perfectly? Nah, but that’s a lot to ask for. What’s more important is, has she learned to show love? And that, my friends, is a resounding yes. 

So I’m okay with a few temper tantrums here and there.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Satyuri

Satuyri, two days after she
arrived
One of the things I don’t do often enough is brag on just one of my kids. There are nine of them, and sometimes I feel like I only give the briefest hints of who they are. I mention the little ones a lot-Jenny and Teresa, the tiny dynamic duo of mischief. I mention Evelyn, as I shake my head at her perceptions and dramatics. I mention Ada, who loves me, and I talk about Erika’s hyjinks. Andrea’s only been here for a month or so and she’s been talked about, just for being a spitfire.

But someone I almost never talk about is Satyuri and that’s not fair, because Satyuri is a special and amazing little girl with a heart of gold.

First day of 3rd grade
She came in July. Just turned eight and already more responsible than some adults, what I didn’t know at the time was that Satyuri was dealing with a serious trauma. To me, she just looked like one tranquil little girl in a sea of excitable girl-creatures, and I remember thinking “At least one of them is calm.” Because out of the eight little girls who came to us in that two week period, she really was the only one.

Pandemonium set in and then was eventually phased out as everyone got used to their new home, but Satyuri never lost her cool. Always helpful, always sweet, she kept a firm hand over both her older and younger sisters Adriana and Ingrid, keeping them in line and watching over them. Her grandmother had mentioned something like that to the social worker before the girls came in, but it was amazing to see in person. Both Adriana and Ingrid listened to their sister far more than they listened to us, and she in turn kept track of them like she was their own mother instead of their sister.

Do You Wanna
Build a Snowman?
Satuyuri being funny
on her English homework
We never had any trouble with Sat: she always listened, always obeyed, and always did her share. However, I noticed over time that she never really talked about herself. She talked to the other girls, would play with them sometimes, but she didn’t open up to anyone. She was reserved, but it was more than that: she seemed introverted. She would wake up at night with nightmares but wouldn’t tell anyone until morning, and even then she only mentioned them in passing. Both of her sisters had nightmares as well, and would scream and cry in the night until they woke a supervisor or themselves up, but Satyuri only ever woke me up once. When I went to check on her, I found her laying bed with her eyes closed, pretending to sleep and obviously crying. She seemed terrified to let anyone in or get close to anyone except for her sisters, who she fiercely protected and watched over.

Satyuri with BFF Ada
and Erika the fashion diva
It was around this time that I heard something for the first time about the girls’ mother.
Ingrid was the one who let it slip. The three of them, Satyuri, Ingrid and Adriana were playing with Evelyn, who was letting them eat something her mother had brought her. The girls were sitting around, happily munching when Ingrid said something like “My mommy used to make me this.” After she said it she seemed to realize her mistake, because she froze and turned to look at Sat, so I did too.

Satyuri had turned white. She was beyond pale, and looked like she wasn’t breathing. She clenched her hands as tears filled her eyes, and without saying anything, she got up and went to the bathroom, Ingrid following her, crying and apologizing as she went. As Adriana sighed and went after them, Evelyn asked the question I was thinking. “What happened to your mom?”

“My mom is dead.” said Adriana, shutting the door behind her.

Tree climbing
It took six months for the girls to open up about what happened to their mom. Although they had largely been raised by their grandmother, their mom had been in and out of their lives, and they loved her. Shortly before they came to live at Esperanza Viva, their mother died suddenly, succumbing to an extended illness that had taken its toll on the girls and their grandmother alike. Unfortunately, the ones who were with her as she died were Satyuri and Ingrid, and it was Satyuri who told her grandmother what happened and also told her sisters, as Ingrid was too young to understand and Adriana wasn’t there. She shouldered a responsibility that was too big for her, and when her world turned upside-down, she didn’t know how to let that responsibility go.

Trying on Alisha's shoes: guess
who was the ring leader?
The night the girls told me what had happened, Satyuri cried for two hours. She cried until her eyes were so swollen I put ice on them. She fell asleep crying, and when I carried her to bed she woke up and asked me to hold her as she went to sleep, something she had never wanted to do before. My little girl, after having to be a grown-up for so long, was finally deciding it was okay to be a child again. She didn’t have to be strong anymore.

Cupcake time!
Since that night in January, the change in Satyuri has been incremental, but incredible. She acts like a child now. She is still the same smart, caring girl she ever was, but she’s no longer always so calm. These days, Satyuri can be found orchestrating a game of tag as easily as she can be found reading. She plays instead of sitting on the sidelines watching her sisters. Sometimes, she doesn’t even know where Ingrid is, and she doesn’t care, because she knows we know where she is. Satyuri has opened up about her mom, and can talk about her without crying now. She is learning to deal with what happened, but she is also learning about a God who loves her and her sisters, and who will take care of them. Of all of my little girls, I can’t think of any that has come as far as Satyuri, and I'm so proud of the person she’s grown into.

Matthew 11:28-29 - "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest... I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul."