Tomorrow night marks exactly two months in Ecuador. It's hard to believe I've been here that long, and that I've completed four weeks of teaching English to 70-some children.It has not been easy. Like most, or all teachers, I've faced a number of students who have absolutely no desire to learn, no craving for the English language, and no respect for me as their teacher. To make things worse, let's not forget that I am attempting to instruct them only in English. In the beginning of the school year, a few of the younger students even cried because they couldn't understand me. I quickly learned how to simplify my language and use more actions than words. I learned to slow things down, and let the children work as a group to figure out what I was saying.
Two kindergartners like to say "molestoso" when I walk into the room. This means that I am there to bother them. In truth, I think they are their to bother me. As are the numerous other students who quarrel, chase each other around the room, and refuse to do any work whatsoever. They are there to bother me and test me.
A few weeks ago I sifted through my friend Rosie's mind for tips and tricks for managing classrooms. One major success has been the threat to take away recess, or "recreo." Once each class loses a recess, I think they'll start to behave. It has already worked with the fifth grade, though not with the seventh because some of the girls wish to stay with me anyway. Aren't student-teacher crushes adorable?
I've made the students accountable to each other by saying that even if one student misbehaves, the whole class suffers. They have quite a few chances (as many times as their are letters in the word "recess") before they lose it. This makes the 7th grade boys quite angry when the girls intentionally misbehave.
I've also found that rewarding them with games at the end of the week or a Michael Jackson song at the end of class can make them VERY attentive.
Aside from these struggles, it has been exciting to be the cool, young teacher who wears sunglasses, teaches Thriller, and does magic tricks. I receive constant "Hello Teacher"'s on the playground before, during, and after school. The parents are also very excited for their kids to have a true English speaker with them for the entire year. It is difficult for children to have consistent learning when they go through four teachers in one year, as they did last year. This, of course, is not to begrudge the work of teachers past. I have heard many wonderful things about them all, the only negative one being that they couldn't have stayed longer.
This school and diocese has really welcomed me with open-arms, and many are committed to my happiness this year.
Also committed to this is my family: Eduardo and Marjory, and Rafael (amongst the numerous other cousins, aunts, uncles . . . etc. They have become a family to me. Initially, it felt as if I was staying in a kind of bed and breakfast; but in two months, people grow on you. You become a part of the life of the family. This, of course, doesn't come with out some struggles and minor frustrations. As we all can attest to, minor annoyances often occur when we spend a lot of time with our parents, or with anybody for that matter. More than these annoyances is the love that abounds in their willingness to house me, feed me, and immerse me in the culture of Ecuador.
To be perfectly honest, my situation is incredibly lush--especially compared to some of my counterparts in the Young Adult Service Corps. (Please check out THEIR blogs with the links to the right. If you are reading this on Facebook, go to my blog to see these links.)
It has actually been a bit troubling to associate myself with these brave friends of mine who shower with buckets of cold water, live in abysmal conditions, and encounter dangerous, sometimes violent situations constantly. It has made me constantly question my worth as a mission partner. I live in a nice apartment with wonderful people. Marjory, cooks lunch from scratch every day with all-natural ingredients. She has only repeated one or two dishes in two months. We have a housekeeper, Maria, who cleans my room, makes my bed, washes and irons ALL of my clothing. Have you ever put on a pair of freshly ironed underwear? I shower with hot water every day. The climate of Quito, while a bit polluted, is very comfortable. And to top that off, we have wireless internet that allows me to blog whenever I want.
I have been very blessed with all of these people and accommodations.
So while I've grappled with this issue of associating myself with such courageous people; Jude and Mallory in Haiti, to name a few, I've had a substantial increase in my own prayer life--mostly for them. I've been wondering what the great purpose of this year is for me. Why has God called me to Ecuador? What lessons will I learn in the months to come? Quito seems to be so Americanized; I feel as though I've simply graduated from college and started a career in teaching. Mission is supposed to be a truly life-altering experience. Mission is supposed to be really difficult. Mission is supposed to be what drives us always, at home and abroad.
When I spoke at my church in July, I said that I thought I heard God knocking on a door, the Ecua-door, if you will. What lied in Ecuador was a mystery, and it still is. David Copley, of YASC, forwarded the words of Arch Bishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams to all of us in the field. (Link to full message)
He sites Acts 16: 6-7: They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them.
Williams comments at how puzzling this passage seems to be. As we understand it today, there is no place out of God's reach. No place where the Spirit can't lead. Here it does not allow them to spread the good news in Bithynia. Williams says this, "don't waste your energy where God at this moment is not opening a door." Don't go where you aren't called.
While I've rejoiced in all of the comforts I enjoy here, I've been somewhat disappointed that I haven't had that "true missionary experience." The thing is, I wasn't called to a place where I'd have to live with the completely impoverished, with no running water or electricity. God knocked on THIS door, and I need to honor that--to open that door and welcome God into this situation, and bow to the mystery, of course.
In July, when I return to the States, I may not have seen my effect. I may not know what what difference I have made. I will most likely feel like I've gained much MUCH more than I've given. Hopefully one, some, or many of my students will be that much more affected by my presence that they will go on to be much greater than myself. Perhaps I will never know. But then again, that is the mystery.