A few (random) pictures from Mendoza. It was a combination of Europe and Latin America. Lots of cafes and tree-lined plazas with great wine and the occasional stray dog.

fresh air

I'm busy.

The past few weeks have flown by and I can't believe it's almost June. We only have a month left of first semester! This makes me excited, nervous, happy but mostly it's just weird. I have a lot to do before the end of the semester in terms of grading, planning, various exams etc. The headaches with Duoc continue. Many of the students have missing quizzes yet when I schedule make-up times ("recuperaciones"), they don't show up. And then they come the next class with an excuse and asking for another chance. After a few rounds of this, I decided to give them one chance and after that they are SOL. No more nice "miss." The overall feel of Duoc is not at all conducive to learning. When you climb up the hill each day, the boom boom boom of reggaton bass is bumping over the speakers, often a DJ is setting up a table and I wonder whether or not I'm at a club or at school. I swear there are always more students milling around the building than there are actually sitting in desks. I've realized that the "volunteer" aspect of WorldTeach isn't what I thought it'd be. I have a job here...in a professional work environment- despite the general student apathy. Not only is volunteerism not common here, I don't feel as if I'm working in a "service" position. Sometimes I wonder how much good all of these WT volunteers are doing. Should we be placed in strictly rural locations? Only with children? In public schools rather than private institutions? 

I think about these things on my daily commutes. With any luck, my doubts go away once I arrive and start teaching and interacting with my students. I mean who can stay that cynical when teaching a bunch of 80s-loving, hot dog-eating college kids "You betcha?" 

In other news, I went to Mendoza, Argentina last weekend and now realize why everyone says to go there after you've been in Chile. It's great. The weekend included a biking wine tour, playing in leaves, swings and slides, free pizza, lots of plaza exploring, Mexican food (!!), a very odd hostel, homemade honey, and a visit to the tattoo/piercing parlor. I felt like I understood Argentina a little better than I do Chile. It made more sense somehow.

Best part? Just as we were pulling in to Santiago, my friend Sidi looks out the window and says, "I know we're back in Chile because I can name five random things I don't get." And she was right. A clown, a set of pololos (couple) with way too much PDA, swastika symbols spray- painted behind a man selling fruit from a cart....and on and on it goes. 

culture clash

The following is an article I found about teen culture here in Chile. The topics of "los tribus urbanos" (urban tribes or groups) and "carretes"(huge, crazy parties) dominate conversation in the news and consequently around the dinner table. While it is expected that the teenage years bring rebellion and parent-child quarrels, the rebellion I've observed here in Chile is total, complete. Maybe it has to do with the fact that most children live with their parents well into their 20s, sometimes until they marry. Or maybe because the country is still dealing with its not-so-distant history. 

When Pinochet took over in 1973, he ordered sex-ed materials destroyed and schools just simply stopped talking about "it." As it stands in 2009, not much has changed. While sex-ed is included in schools, my host brothers tell me it is infrequent and very general. Add that to the obsession and constant connection with the internet, and the rebellion isn't all that surprising. Nonetheless, it is no less shocking.

The article is a couple years old but nonetheless puts to words what I've been observing and pondering the past few months in the parks, malls, bars and among my students at Duoc.

NY Times: In Tangle of Young Lips, A Sex Rebellion in Chile

It's been an interesting week here in Concepción. It seems like a lot has happened in just a few days and I realized today on the bus ride home that I'm now looking at the city differently than I did last week. I've once again been humbled in terms of how tiny we all are in the scheme of things. My little native English speaker footprint pales in comparison to efforts of other Chileans who have worked for years to build English programs and get students excited about speaking English.

But first, let me back up. This week started like any other. Four classes on Monday, spinning class in the evening, onces with my family. That night I checked my email and received a response (finally!) for a volunteer position at San Agustín, a grade school (Pre-kinder-12). A prof at Duoc also teaches at San Agustín and in the email simply told me to meet her at the school on Tuesday for a tour and to meet teachers. I arrived on Tuesday not expecting to be there long. Wrong. I was there almost four hours. It was such a different environment compared to Duoc. Immediately the teachers were all introducing themselves, asking about my family here, my Spanish, etc. It caught me a little off guard when the school principal, who I met moments earlier, introduced me to the entire staff at the start of the weekly meeting. (1. I had no idea I'd arrived at the weekly staff meeting, 2. I had no idea they'd be so welcoming and excited to have a volunteer). After the meeting, I had a handful of schedules in front of me and teachers vying for my time--turns out I'm going to work with 1st, 2nd and 3rd graders twice a week. :) After working with high school students last fall and University age students now, I was ecstatic. 40 little balls of energy yelling "Miss!" "Miss!" I'm thinking I may need a cup (or 3) of real coffee before I go to 1A, 2B, and 3A...

As I sat in the Sala de Profesores (Teacher's Lounge), drinking Nescafé and eating pastries, bread, honey etc., taking in the new environment, the teachers also informed me of the annual Concepción English spelling bee. It just happened to be today, Thursday. "Oh, how wonderful. can you come this Thursday and be a judge?," they ask. "Well...sure. What time?" "Oh, all day long. It starts at 9am and will go all day but whatever you can do will be appreciated," she tells me. My first hint at what could end up being volunteer-overkill. On and on the conversation went until finally I left school.

Anyway, I got there this morning at 9am sharp. For the next hour and a half I helped set up. I put up (random!) posters in English. Some of the most notable were Ben Franklin and Mother Teresa next to a poster saying, "adverbs! they describe how actions are done!" I arranged chairs and cut out makeshift numbers for the contestants. I watched as the students arrive, all in slightly different uniforms and the murmur grew to a roar. Finally, we were ready to go. But not without a song by Shakira. Yes, the Concepción 1st-12th grade spelling bee opened with "Underneath your clothes," by Shakira. holla.

This is where it gets interesting. The very makeshift jury-no prior experience necessary-begins with the first word. After a couple practice rounds, the kids get the hang of it and we were on our way. Then it was my turn to recite words and say "correct," or "incorrect." There were only a few students left at this point. I was doing just fine, or so I thought, providing students with definitions or an example sentence. After a few minutes, there were just two left. The word was, "Western." I said it, used it in a sentence, "John Wayne stars in many Western movies," but the kid didn't get it. Bueno, done. Other kid wins, right? 

Turns out, after the contest a teacher comes up to the jury and tells me that the students don't understand my accent. My English accent. She said that I shouldn't recite anymore and let the other Chileans do so. In other words, this was a complete reversal of the idea of my presence in the school. The point of having an American is to hear the native accent and hear fluent English. I completely understand that the student didn't understand me because half the time when I speak here, I get a blank stare even though in my mind I'm speaking Spanish correctly. I started to question my presence there. Chileans constantly gush over how beautiful native English sounds yet at the moment when it becomes challenging, they revert to Chilean English. 

I've seen this time and again in the past two months. Students switching out of "gringo-taught" classes because it's too hard. Cheating instead of asking questions or participating. Or just plain ditching class. It's frustrating as a teacher to see them give up or seek the back door without ever making an effort to learn the material. I always tell my students, "I have to be in Spanish class 24/7. You guys are only here for 90 minutes. Speak English!!" Needless to say, I need to find a new tactic. Suggestions welcome :)

The best part of all was that all the teachers were surprised and bummed I had to leave. I left at one; four hours of sitting in the freezing cold basement auditorium was enough for me. 

As I said in the beginning, it has been an eye-opening week. I see how desperately necessary English is here. In the words of the director to the students, "With English, you can do anything." I constantly think of how lucky I am to have opportunity to travel, drive my own car, attend college etc., but I never really internalized that even my own language, my natural mode of communication, is a very valuable source of social capital. 

Wow. This is long. I really need to start grading...

All in all, it's been a good week. Different than those past, but definitely good. I'm excited to start working with the little kiddos soon! As for now, I'm wrapped up in my cozy blanket, periodically stoking the stove with wood and enjoying a strong cup of coffee settling in to grade midterms. woot. Tonight, I'm going to the best place in town, "La Fuente Aleman," with my mom and brother for my first completo experience. (Hot dog with avacado, mayo and ketchup). Doesn't it just make your stomach growl?? 

Chao from my little room in Chile. :)

You can finally say it: it's chilly in Chile

Winter is here. Not winter, per se, but cold nonetheless.

It's a different cold than I've ever experienced. To anyone that has spent a winter in Minnesota, this would seem like a cake walk. Or so I thought...It never snows and the lowest low is around 30F. A balmy February day back home. But what gets you here in Chile is the lack of central heating. Anywhere. You go inside but the temperature is only a little bit higher indoors. This is not a new sensation for me as I spent a chilly (ha) winter in Northfield and am perfectly fine with perpetual layers, blankets and slippers, but the fact that no where has heat is what concerns me. To combat this and to survive the next few months, a few changes must occur:

1. Fire. Here, I introduce, my new best friend, "la estufa," or wood burning heater, outside my room. I love the smell of it and the glowing coals inside the little wrought-iron window. Hot.

2. Gear. My host mom had me model her favorite jacket for cold weather tonight. It's fifteen years old, leather with wool lining. It's like putting on a weighted blanket. A little big, but it'll do the trick when it gets bad.

3. More gear: purchased a hot water bottle at the mall. From winter at Willow, I learned the importance of Cocooning, or wrapping up in a blanket and not moving. The bottle will only help speed up the process.

4. Maté. Lots of maté.

So while flowers bloom and grass become green again at home, winter sets in down South.It took awhile, but Chile is officially chilly.   :)