No Holds Barred - Learning Colombian Culture as a Teacher

Persistence

During our first few weeks at school, it became appartent that the woman the the Colombian Embassy in Canada was not unusually indirect or neglectful with her instructions on how to get a visa. (My apologies to those of you who had to listen ad nauseum to our stories of frustration. This process is still incomplete by the way, six months after beginning it). It wasn't that she was trying to push us around, she was just doing things the Colombian way. If you want to get something done, it will take a lot of patience, a lot of persistence, and some kind of "in" with the right person.

For example, the cord for the data projector in my classroom would not reach the outlet on the wall. When the maintence guy came around to have me sign for the projector, I asked about this. You will have to imagine all the following conversations in broken Spanish/English, with a lot of gesturing and potentially drawing a few pictures to explain.

 Me: Carlos, I can't plug in my projector and still have it project on the wall. Can I have a powerbar?
(Insert a long conversation trying to explain what a "powerbar" is.)
Carlos: Talk to Erwin. 
Me: Oh, thank you!

(Walk to the other end of the high school area to the supplies office.)
 Me: Hi, Erwin. My projector won't plug into the wall. Can I have a powerbar?
(Insert another long conversation during which I learn that a powerbar has several names in Spanish.)
 Erwin: Yes. You can have this powerbar. But you have to sign it out and bring it back after the class is over.
Me: But I will need this powerbar every class, because I will need to plug in the projector every class. Can I keep it?
Erwin: Sorry, but that's not how things are done. You can only sign out the powerbar for one class. Maybe you can talk to Xandra in Accounting.

(Walk to the edge of the school property at the border with the jungle path and the pasture full of cows. Walk into the little building looking for Xandra. Wait. Be asked to come back later because Xandra is in a meeting. Come back later. Be asked to come back tomorrow to talk to Xandra.)

(The next day)
Me: Hi, Xandra. I can't plug in my projector and my classes begin tomorrow. I am worried that I won't be able to use my projector and I need it for teaching. Can I have a powerbar... or an extension cord... or anything so that I can use my projector?
Xandra: Wait, I will talk to Carlos.
(Carlos arrives on the scene again.) 
Xandra (to Carlos): Lisa needs a powerbar. Can you give her a powerbar?
Carlos: Yes. Here is a powerbar.
(Carlos hands over a powerbar. Classes begin the next morning and I am able to show them pictures of what we'll be doing in class and where I lived in Canada. Problem solved.)

Everything here takes time and requires you to be very proactive if you want to get something done. It all can be done, but it will only be done if you make it happen. There is a lot of paperwork involved in everything. I've spared you the detailed story of how I got my school supplies. (Three whiteboard markers... check! One eraser... check! One pencil... check! "Why does it say six pencils on the list if I am getting one?" "When you finish with this one, you come back and get another one. You have six for the year. Sign, please.") No one is attempting to be frustrating, it's just that efficiency is not a high priority. Everyone works hard, but unless you're actively asking for something, your request will be put aside in place of those with people clamouring for attention.

There are two ways to go about life here.
1) Politely visit people that you need something from every day for a week. Give them a kiss on the cheek or a handshake. Ask how they are doing. Then inquire about the progress they've made with your request again and explain that it is very important to you.
    or
2) Relax. Drink a tinto (a black coffee) or an aromatica (herbal tea). Accept that what you want might not actually happen. Decide if you really, really need it to happen. If so, buy your own powerbar/extension cord/pencil and forget that you ever made the request. If you forget, they will forget, and you can still eat bunuelos for a snack together and have a nice conversation at recess.

Disobedience with a Smile

Classes began three weeks ago, so I've had a good chance to figure out what teaching Colombian kids is going to be like. The school day is longer and there is less time off than I expected. Classes begin at 7:25 and run until 3:05, with 30 minutes for recess and 45 minutes for lunch. During school holidays, teachers often are required to come in and work when the kids aren't at school. There will be less time to travel than we expected, so we'll have to make the most of the holidays in Decemeber and July.

The principal told us that you needed to be firm with discipline, so I went in with guns blazing. What I found was somewhere between the obedient docility of the students I taught in Vancouver and the defiant hostility I expected based on descriptions.

Colombian culture works both for and against you as a teacher. First and foremost, the kids are genuinely friendly and nice. They say "hello, how are you?" when they enter the class, see you at school or even run into you in the street. I recall running into my Math teacher in the grocery store when I was in high school. It was an uncomfortable experience and I ducked away as quickly as I could. How dare he have a life outside of the classroom? When I've run into students here (Armenia is pretty small and many students live in our neighbourhood) they give a wave and a hello and might ask about your day for a few minutes before smiling and moving on. When they leave your class, they almost always say thank you, even if you've had to give them some kind of punishment for poor behaviour.

Colombian culture also dictates that you, as the teacher, are the enforcer of rules, and they, as the students, are meant to try to find a way around the rules as much as possible. Self-discipline isn't the norm. If someone is doing something wrong or disturbing others, it's your fault as the teacher for not making them behave, not the fault of the person being disruptive. Your job is to force them to do the work, or take notes, or listen to the lesson. Any time you allow them to talk or play with the hair of the person next to them, it's your fault they're not learning, not theirs.

Of course, this is the impression I've had of the culture, not what the school is trying to enforce. Our principal is focusing on getting the kids to be more responsible for their own learning, but it's a battle. I've had to flex my classroom management muscles more than I've ever had to before, which isn't surprising considering the places I've taught. Your average Taiwanese kid isn't going to talk back to the teacher, nor is the upper-class female private school student. Here, there are constantly names going up on the board for disrupting the class. I give out lunch duties and take away participation marks. Next week, I anticipate owning several new blackberries and cell phones if they can't stop texting during class. I let a few things slide, and my classes are still much noisier and more disorganized than I've ever had before, but we're slowly coming to an agreement. While some of them might make fun of you in Spanish to their classmates, leaving you wondering what insult they just flung in your direction, others will also stick around to ask you all about your life or help you bring a butterfly cocoon down from a tree for your class. (Honestly, I found a cocoon the size of a small banana... it's now in a terrarium in my class. I have my guesses, but whatever is going to hatch out of it will be BIG.)

It will have to be a No Holds Barred style of teaching. But I'll give out consequences for poor behaviour with a smile too.


The Staff Party

Picture your last staff party. Was there a long awkward beginning? Did people stand in cliques and make offhand disparaging remarks about work? Did someone get drunk and say something they shouldn't have? There's always a staff party once or twice a year, and at private schools there's usually a welcome-back party. There's a good measure of opulence and everyone is amiable, but most are rushing for their cars at the first opportunity.

Now picture my welcome back staff party. Did we feast on giant platters with fried plantain, beans and crispy pork skin? Did it rain with such ferocity that it felt like being in a washing machine? Was it at a finca, a country farm with a swimming pool and a bar? Did we dance for FIVE HOURS without stopping? Did the PE teacher serve everyone beer but also cradle both a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of rum in his arms for much longer than necessary? Yes. All of it. And more.

In Canada, I've been known to shake my thing on the dance floor. My non-dancing friends have commented on my ability to jiggle what I've got with reckless abandon (and a little style). Moving to Colombia was like moving to Krypton - what might have been an unusually rhythmic ass in Canada is barely average here. I'm surrounded by Superwomen. Someone is always shaking it harder than you are, and chances are good they've got more junk in the trunk to throw around.

Colombians don't shy away from larger women. I didn't realise this before coming, but I've moved to one of the plastic surgery capitals of the world. The women here don't want to be prebubescently skinny... they want to be MORE womanly. Huge rack. Tiny waist. Big round ass. While purusing the stores in the shopping area downtown I came across an unusual undergarment. I can only describe it as a pair of bicycle shorts with the butt cheeks cut out. The assless chaps of bike shorts, if you will. What is it? A butt lifter. A bra for your cheeks so that your posterior jutts out at right angles to your body (which, if you're a decent good-looking woman, your breasts mirror in the top half). There's a few women I've met who could rest a full cup of coffee on the top of their rears and not spill a drop. While the booty is considerable, it is perfectly acceptable to not only wiggle at someone directly, but to grind with them within a circle of hooting coworkers. (Oh yes, we did that too.)

It was a great workout. My spanish may be lousy but my hips are considerably better at muddling along in a conversation. There was salsa, merengue, bachata, reggaeton, and, randomly, a few songs of Michael Jackson, the Village People and 60s rock, to which everyone did the twist. There wasn't a single staff member who wasn't dancing. The principal danced with all the female members of staff at least once.

According to one of our coworkers, the party was "not a very good one. It was pretty boring." Dear lord, if that was a boring party, what do we have in store for us at the next (mandatory) staff party?

Lunch at the Finca - Beans, egg, rice, sausage, avocado, tomato and chicharron (pork skin)

Rain at the staff party (before the dancing began in earnest)