Thursday morning we had a big celebration for the Día de Padre Wasson, who was the Catholic priest who founded the first NPH home in Mexico. Anyway, one thought from that celebration that's been stuck in my head was a comment along the lines of:
"Everyone in the world is made in God's image, and thus all of us are perfect as we are."
I feel like, for me, this idea is just another way to help me to try to be open to things as they are, and work to make things better from a place of respect, empathy, and solidarity, rather than a place of frustration (where I've often been finding myself).
Because if we are all made in God's image (no me importa which God it is, though), then that means that the 'annoying 8th graders who don't want to pay any attention and learn this super easy grammatical construction' are God's image. So, God must be an annoying 8th grader sometimes, and God must also be the annoying younger kids who, after every single question on their tests, wanted me to tell them whether it was right or not. And, if that means I'm also made in God's image, then the crazy scheduling mistakes I made on friday are also, for some reason or another, a manifestation of that perfection.
I guess the idea is, no matter how annoying the kids here are, or how many mistakes I or anyone else make, this is just a reminder that they can be seen as perfect for being who they are. Not that this means we can't be better in a lot of ways-- just that no matter how bad someone might seem, they can still be respected and appreciated...
(Hope in the Dark, a book I recently finished (and which I think I talked to almost everyone I know about) which explores how social change happens in surprising and subtle ways, talks a lot about being being open to the change that happens through people or means that you wouldn't expect-- and seeking out alliances that accomplish that. I feel like this thought is in a similar vein...)
I've also just started reading The Little Prince (El Principito, in Spanish), and I think there's a connection to its discussion of how adults are too serious and miss the possibilities that the world holds in favor 'reasonable' things. That is, if you could see all things in the world as perfect as they are (or, as little kids do, without judgement), then I'd imagine everything would be infinitely more enchanting.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
School...
Well, I'm about to start my third week teaching, and it feels like I'm too in the middle of processing everything to describe it without taking forever.
Suffice it to say that I've had some very nice moments --like bringing in a Langston Hughes poem for 9th grade and translating it with them-- as well as breaking down and crying after a rough class, and wanting to many more times than that (though this is seemingly obligatory for first-year teachers, wherever they are).
But, at least one interesting thought: After reflecting a lot on the classroom management difficulties I've been having (and getting lots of good advice from many people-- thanks mom!), I've sort of realized that I can't really blame the kids.
I mean, as kids it's their job to give me a hard time (and especially as kids that have gone through all sorts of terrible stuff). They're busy testing the world, and (ideally) learning from the results. I'd imagine adults do the testing-boundaries thing too, though maybe in different ways.
And its my job to be clear on the rules and boundaries to help give them a good response to their probing. So far, I wasn't as clear on the rules and discipline stuff as I should have been, and then when they pushed me I'd get stressed out --and consequently, angry-- because I had no idea what to do. But if I'm clear with myself on the rules, and then make them clear to them, ideally I shouldn't have any reason to get stressed.
An example: Yesterday, I left my house while eating a banana, and ran into three kids from the ranch outside. One of them asked me to give him the half a banana I had left ('regálamelo', or 'gift that to me', is a common phrase here), and of course I said 'No way, this is my breakfast'. 'Plus,' I added, 'you already had breakfast'. 'No,' one of them responded, 'we're not from the ranch, we're poor and from La Venta' (a nearby town). 'Oh, I know you live here. You're in Hogar San Fernando!'. 'No, that's not us, we live in Hogar El Puente, under this bridge' (we were passing a teeny little bridge). At that point they pretended to go down under the bridge, and I kept walking.
The thing is, I feel like that encounter was more funny then anything else (plus it shows that these kids can be creative when they want something). I knew that I wanted to eat my banana and that there was no reason I should give it to them, and because it didn't make me uncomfortable I was able to play around with them, and leave the experience smiling.
I know it will be a lot harder in school, but I'd like to --eventually, at least-- be able to feel that way with my students. This week is exam week, and then next Monday the 4th quarter starts, so I'm excited to start fresh (well, I feel that way right now, at least...I'll probably feel differently next Monday).
Unrelatedly, we hiked to a pretty waterfall today about a half hour up behind the ranch, and got to go swimming in it too.
Suffice it to say that I've had some very nice moments --like bringing in a Langston Hughes poem for 9th grade and translating it with them-- as well as breaking down and crying after a rough class, and wanting to many more times than that (though this is seemingly obligatory for first-year teachers, wherever they are).
But, at least one interesting thought: After reflecting a lot on the classroom management difficulties I've been having (and getting lots of good advice from many people-- thanks mom!), I've sort of realized that I can't really blame the kids.
I mean, as kids it's their job to give me a hard time (and especially as kids that have gone through all sorts of terrible stuff). They're busy testing the world, and (ideally) learning from the results. I'd imagine adults do the testing-boundaries thing too, though maybe in different ways.
And its my job to be clear on the rules and boundaries to help give them a good response to their probing. So far, I wasn't as clear on the rules and discipline stuff as I should have been, and then when they pushed me I'd get stressed out --and consequently, angry-- because I had no idea what to do. But if I'm clear with myself on the rules, and then make them clear to them, ideally I shouldn't have any reason to get stressed.
An example: Yesterday, I left my house while eating a banana, and ran into three kids from the ranch outside. One of them asked me to give him the half a banana I had left ('regálamelo', or 'gift that to me', is a common phrase here), and of course I said 'No way, this is my breakfast'. 'Plus,' I added, 'you already had breakfast'. 'No,' one of them responded, 'we're not from the ranch, we're poor and from La Venta' (a nearby town). 'Oh, I know you live here. You're in Hogar San Fernando!'. 'No, that's not us, we live in Hogar El Puente, under this bridge' (we were passing a teeny little bridge). At that point they pretended to go down under the bridge, and I kept walking.
The thing is, I feel like that encounter was more funny then anything else (plus it shows that these kids can be creative when they want something). I knew that I wanted to eat my banana and that there was no reason I should give it to them, and because it didn't make me uncomfortable I was able to play around with them, and leave the experience smiling.
I know it will be a lot harder in school, but I'd like to --eventually, at least-- be able to feel that way with my students. This week is exam week, and then next Monday the 4th quarter starts, so I'm excited to start fresh (well, I feel that way right now, at least...I'll probably feel differently next Monday).
Unrelatedly, we hiked to a pretty waterfall today about a half hour up behind the ranch, and got to go swimming in it too.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Esa noche en la habitación de Max nació un bosque...
This time around, I felt like I understood the book in a new -or at least, different- light, due to my time here at the ranch. I was never sure why Max, after having such a great time with his imagination and his monster friends, decided to get mad at them and tell them to stop playing.
"'¡Basta ya!' gritó Max y ordenó a los monstruos que se fueran a la cama sin cenar. Y Max el rey de los monstruos se sintió solo y deseó estar en un lugar donde hubiera alguien que lo quisiera más que a nadie."
("'Enough!', shouted Max, and he ordered the monsters to go to bed without dinner. And Max the king of the monsters felt alone and wished to be in a place where someone loved him more than anyone"...this is the direct translation back from the Spanish. It might be a little more blunt than the original, which also helps with interpretation...)
Anyways, in his imagination, Max reenacts the same scenario that had happened with his Mother, except this time he was in the position of power. But it doesn't make him happy to do it, and afterwards, he realizes that all he wants is be loved (or maybe its through the reenactment that he's able to realize?). That need to replay or reenact your experience on someone else is so interesting though-- I don't know why we do it...
What's good about the book is that Max does this in his imagination, and not (at least as far as we know) to anyone in real life.
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