Since the other girls have already posted really thoughtful and profound reflections about our week, it's about time I add to the mix. I'll try to be as thorough and cohesive as I can, but I feel like my whole experience can be summarized by Mahatma Gandhi's famous quote that "The best way to find yourself is lose yourself in the service of others." I began the week with a feeling of restlessness and questioning how to make the most of the present moment. I ended the week with a feeling of confidence and trust in what society has to share, and that each moment, no matter what we are doing has the capability of making an impact.
Here is my week in retrospect....
Monday
As Bev had mentioned, the school I was supposed to teach at was closed for a teacher conference so I joined Di at the Mercy Kitchen. We played a card game called"pit-a-pat" (a version of gin rummy) with the elders and delivered food to the homebound. While we delivered food, we got a very personal tour of the city and met a handful of really interesting characters:
- Rosana, the dancing queen, who literally pushed us up against a wall and started grinding on us the minute we met her
- Leo, the weather man, who knew everything about the weather and gave us a full forecast of weather in most US cities
- Gloria, aka "miss happy" who was complaining about having to go to court the next day. Her house was damaged in an earthquake and since she couldn't afford to pay for repairs, the government was foreclosing and evicting her out of her house.
- Mr. Lopez, who barely spoke english and kept grabbing my hand to say "you look nice"
- Another Ms. Gloria who was a white Kriol lady, she had diabetes and gangrene but had such a big and friendly smile on her face that none of her aches and pains seem to matter
- Wilbur, who was wheelchair bound and had no legs. He mentioned that he had lived in LA for awhile and got homesick and decided to move back to Belize. He also said that moving back was his biggest regret in life, wishing that UCLA could have helped cure his diabetes and he wouldn't have lost his legs
Tuesday was quite the nerve wracking experience. It was exactly like the first day of school with butterflies in my stomach while feeling scared, excited and eager all at once. At St. Martin's Elementary I was asked to help teach Standard 3. The kids were from ages 9 to 11 and the subject level was similar to Grade 5 in the US. The minute I walked into the classroom and met the teacher, I was asked to teach for the rest of the week.. Thank God I was able to politely excuse myself out of that! I barely even remember what a GCF and LCD was, there was no way I was going to teach it without a refresher. I eventually ended up helping the students with their assignments on prepositions and sentence structure, moved on the multiplication tables and factors, and ended the day helping them learn the food chain. I was able to pick up as soon as the teacher started explaining and ended up tutoring and "dumbing it down" so the students could understand it better. At the end of the day, I felt a lot more confident about the rest of the week and had already picked out a few favorites in the class.
I also had a few first impressions about the school and methods of teaching:
- Like anywhere else, the teachers were overwhelmed with work and class sizes and played the role of a disciplinarian more than the educator
- The students immediately looked to me as an authority figure, when all I wanted to be was their friend
- The students prayed at the start of the day, after break, before lunch, after lunch and at the end of the day. It was great to hear them pray in unison, but a little disheartening to hear them mumble the Our Father and Haily Mary like it was more of a hindrance that lacked meaning.
- The kids were also scolded for praying with their eyes open, and doing so meant praying to the devil.
- It was also a bit of a challenge to explain to the students (and sometimes the teacher) how I considered myself American when I obviously wasn't white like all the other Americans they've met.
- Even though all their classes were taught in English, the class still interacted in Kriol. It was challenging to speak to them in English, get responses in Kriol and watch the students get scolded for not speaking my language.
- I really felt like I was in 3rd grade all over again. The school was a lot like the elementary I went to in the Philippines (run by Americans, taught by locals, textbooks were outdated from the 1960s etc) and it was also as conveniently strict and liberal. The teachers stopped class to talk to other teachers, scared students with a stick but somehow still maintained a level of respect and friendship with the students.
Wednesday
I taught religion class first thing in the morning. The teacher had given me her lesson plan on "how the eucharist helps us to be more like Jesus so we can help anyone who is in need" and I had to come up with ways to make it interesting. The first thing that came to mind was the parable of the good samaritan. So I read it out loud, asked for their own scenarios of being a good samaritan, and ended the lesson by having them massage each others' shoulder. It was really cute to see their reactions and listen to their insights on God.
In the afternoon, the other Seattle University interns, Jesuit Volunteers and priests and I joined some of the students for a citywide peace rally. I laughed at myself for living out the activist in me even in a foreign country. We joined about 10 other schools and paraded around the city against nonviolence. It was really fun to dance to beats of Bob Marley's "One Love", walk all throughout the city and chant against violence in loud unison. Even though the whole rally took 2 hours under the scorching sun, it was still one of my big highlights of the trip.
Thursday
By Thursday, I had gotten attached to the students and had a better grasp of their names. Damian, Samiya, Venicia and Renicia were on the right, Samiya, Melton, Glen, Jada, Melisha and Sherlett were on the left. If they switched seats or walked around I had no clue who they were. I was also transitioning from an authority figure to their friend and playmate. I started the day by playing snakes and ladders and monopoly with them, shared snacks and candy with them at recess and by the end of the day they were all hugging me and hanging onto my feet so I wouldn't leave.
Josh and I had lunch with Father Joe, the director of the Jesuits in Belize City. He gave us a lot of insights on the history of the Jesuits as well as the impact they've made and lessons they've learned from the Belizeans (a society he called "gently aggressive"). He was really down to earth and easy to talk to, and it felt like such a treat to spend some time with him.
Some of my friends and family also donated school supplies to the school and the teacher thought it was best if I gave them out as prizes to the students. She made questions about the lessons they learned throughout the week and the students randomly picked out numbers that correlated to the questions. They were really excited and literally jumped out of their seats to grab the pens, pencils, and notebooks I had brought. If you donated any of those, you should be really glad you did. Some of them were failing their classes because they didn't have any notebooks to write on or pens to write with. It was funny yet sad to see them pull out their dog-eared papers and write with ink instead of pens.
Friday
Friday was even more bittersweet than I expected. Our group planned to go to Caye Caulker in the afternoon, so we only worked half day to say good bye and thank you to our respective service placements.
The students started the day taking the BJAT (Belize Junior Achievement Test) so I acted as a proctor and didn't get to say as proper a good bye as I had hoped. When the recess bell rang, our taxi driver was there to pick Josh and I up, and we had to rush our way out. The teacher asked the students to stay for recess and they all stood in a circle and read me a poem of gratitude. They each read a stanza and hugged me when they finished their part. By the time they finished their poem, they all stood around me with cards and gifts in their hands, and stood in line to hug me goodbye. It was so sweet and endearing that I probably would never have left if it wasn't for our persistent taxi driver nagging to leave.
After that I joined the other girls at the YWCA, where we got pampered by the cosmetology students with pedicures, manicures and hair braids. We shared another bittersweet goodbye and headed out to spend the weekend in Caye Caulker. Caye Caulker is a place beyond words, so I think I'll post a separate picture blog about it instead.
Overall the whole week was a lesson of humility, practicality and being ever-ready. I was thinking about how much of an impact I could have made on 9 year old in a week, but I realized that they made a lot more of an impact on me than I made on them. The trip wasn't just to serve the impoverished, but to be reminded of humble truths and the elegance of simplicity. It really is true, we really do find ourselves when we lose ourselves in others.
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