Update from Temuco

My new family in Chapod reminds me a bit of my family at home—particularly of my cousins on my mom’s side of the family—in that we basically do nothing except sit around the house, talk, eat, and laugh about everything that comes up in conversation. My host parents, Clorinda and Octavio, are warm, welcoming, and incredibly sweet. I have three host sisters: Loli, who is twenty-nine and has an adorable five-year-old daughter named Belen (she lives about twenty minutes away, but comes over for dinner a few times a week); Damaris, who is twenty-six and studies at university in Temuco; and Jemi, who is twenty and studies intercultural and bilingual education (and has the same love for the strange combination of folk music and rock music that I do). Damaris and Jemi live in Temuco during the week, but come home on weekends to be with their family.

I also have a host brother named Pato, who is, for lack of better terms, The Man. He is thirteen years old and bounces off walls like any other seventh grader, and is obsessed with Green Day. He is one of the happiest and most optimistic people I have come across in my life, which is definitely a good influence on me these days…

The primary school in Chapod is closing its seventh and eighth grade programs next year due to severe underenrollment (there would be 6 eighth graders, 2 seventh graders, and law states that eighth grade can’t be combined with other grades.) As a result, Pato has to find somewhere else to go to school. This wouldn’t be nearly as devastating if there were a school nearby that offered the programs, but the closest schools are an hour away, in Temuco—and Pato would have to be at school before the earliest bus from Chapod could get him there.

So, chances are that Pato will leave Chapod and go to live with his sisters in Temuco—but this gives way to a whole other host of issues: Damaris and Jemi don’t have room in their apartment for Pato, so they’ll have to get a bigger place; Pato will be alone for most of the day, and as a thirteen-year-old will have no one to make sure he does his homework, or cook him dinner, or look after him; the city of Temuco is much more dangerous than little Chapod, and thus Pato, though a mature kid, will be at much higher risk than if he were living at home with his mother.

His parents blame it on birth control. People are having fewer kids, so enrollment at schools is down—and this hurts schools in rural towns. (In a previous discussion, they were advocates of birth control—“If we didn’t use it, think how many kids we would have had!” said Clorinda.) Clorinda is one of ten siblings, which is not rare for her generation—one of my students’ grandmothers gave birth to sixteen children, as I learned from the student’s first composition.

My project has changed significantly since my last post, due to research I’ve gathered and the amazing discussions I’ve had with the students at Liceo Guacolda. I’ve decided to stay there for the rest of the ISP period, and make my project less of a comparative study and more of a qualitative analysis.

I’ve learned a lot of really interesting things in the past week, but I think I’m going to wait to post in depth about my project until it’s done—but what I will say is that the students really seem to be enjoying the workshop, and every day they talk for more and more time. The two writing assignments that they’ve handed in are not only insightful, but incredibly personal—talking about things such as their grandmothers’ frustration with the role they had to fill as housewives to their mothers’ battles with depression (two entries) which is an amazing amount of trust to be given, considering I’ve known these students not even a week. I am eager to read what they write about themselves…

The ISP period has been a lot more work than I anticipated, and I feel bad because I haven’t been able to spend as much time with my family as I wanted to. I am literally spending 4 hours a day commuting (two hours to Liceo Guacolda, two hours back) as well as usually spending about 5 hours a day (if not more) working on the project itself—leading in-class dialogues; reading compositions; interviewing teachers, students, and others; transcribing class sessions, compositions, and interviews; planning for the next day…so I get home at the end of the day, completely spent, eat dinner, work more, and then sleep.

But, as exhausted as I am, I feel that, for the first time since I’ve been here, that I am challenging myself academically; that I am taking charge of my education; that I am doing something active with my time in Chile. I am initiating things, not just observing or taking part in scheduled activities. And I am positive that I am learning more these days—both in terms of Spanish language and Chilean/Mapuche history—than I would be learning inside a classroom anywhere, be it here in Chile or back at Hampshire.