The “in Santiago” part of the “Sophie in Santiago” blog is ending for good in four hours. This is all too big to think about. Since I can’t formulate coherent thoughts right now, I’m going to make a bulleted list of my incoherent thoughts:
• I’ve been planning my study abroad semester since my senior year of high school. Now it is over. I have used it as motivation and something to look forward to since I was seventeen—a semester of break from normalcy. I don’t think that I will be in this type of situation again.
• I will never have this type of experience again—living far away I mean. I don’t see myself ever living in a country other than the US permanently, which isn’t something I could have said four months ago.
• I leave for Brazil in four hours, where I will be meeting and staying with a few random relatives who I got in touch with via e-mail six months ago.
• I took my friends to the airport today—these are people who I have spent every day with (almost) for the past three and a half months. Although I’m pretty sure I will see almost all of them again, I highly doubt that we’ll ever all be together. Except at Kim’s wedding. (Kimi, I hope you still read this.)
• “Is this real life?!?!??!?” (The second most commonly used phrase of our program—after “It’s fine.”)
• There is a strong likelihood that I will never return to Chile. If I do, it will definitely be in a different context—I will be a tourist rather than a student. Chances are it will be in a long time.
• I will not be speaking in Spanish every day anymore (well, really that’s a three-weeks-from-now concern.) It’s pretty likely that if I do, people won’t be able to understand me because of Chile’s crazy dialect. They don’t exactly put “po” after every sentence anywhere else…
• There is a very strong likelihood that I will never see Mercedes again after tomorrow morning. I am trying not to think about this.
I’ll try to post from Brazil, Peru, and will definitely be posting reflections from home. For now, chau from Chile.
Showing posts with label santiago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label santiago. Show all posts
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sophie in Buenos Aires
Last Wednesday, I unwillingly took part in a typical Chielan experience—I was robbed. I was carrying my cell phone in my sweater pocket at a market, felt a tug, looked down, and had no phone. I went to a mobile police unit, filed a police report, and went home. I am completely fine, no worries, but currently phoneless in Buenos Aires…although I am going to buy a new phone when I get back to Santiago.
We are in Buenos Aires for our last two weeks of the structured program, and it feels more like a vacation than work. We have interesting academic seminars, school visits, and educational excursions—more on those later—but we also have significantly more free time than we did in Santiago. It is really relaxing, and a good break for all of us before our Independent Study Projects begin.
I haven’t taken much time to talk about our group as a whole, although it has been a huge part of this experience. Brief overview: there are fifteen of us, fourteen girls and one guy, from all over the US. Hampshire is the only school doubly-represented (go Hamp!) and, although most go to schools on the East Coast, a few go to schools scattered across the Midwest and West. I feel really fortunate that in a group of fifteen, we all get along well enough to go out to dinner together, or to just hang out after class. I’m so happy that it’s worked out this way—that I feel comfortable with everyone, one-on-one or in a group; that I never feel self-conscious about my opinions on education or politics, even though they differ significantly from others’.
It’s really strange that, on November 6th, I will no longer be in this group to which I have become very accustomed, and that, chances are, I will be spending a significant amount of my ISP alone in Temuco. This is both exhilarating and nervewracking, but probably the best thing that will happen for my Spanish language skills.
Since arriving in Buenos Aires, I, along with other people from the group, have started to notice my English grammar and spelling going out the window. I think in English words but with Spanish grammar, for example: “I will go to the house of Kim at nineteen hours” or something like that. And I think about almost all of my conjunctions in Spanish nowadays—so if I come home saying “entonces” (so, anyway) all the time, please forgive me.
Entonces. If Santiago is a South American version of Brooklyn, then Buenos Aires is definitely Upper West Side Manhattan. There are trees and everyone is thin and beautiful. People always say it is very European, which it is—but it really reminds me of the area in Manhattan by Central Park.
I’m really enjoying living with my new host family—it is the polar opposite of living with Mercedes, but it is good just the same. I am living with a single mother, Andrea, and her nineteen-year-old daughter, Agostina, in a relatively large apartment in a nice area of the city. Agostina is studying musical comedy and circus arts, with a focus on trapeze, and is a lot of fun to hang out with. (Tonight I’m going to her dance class, where I will learn the “Thriller” dance!) I’ve met a few of her friends, who are all really nice, and we went to see some of her classmates in a show the other day—so I feel like I’m experiencing Buenos Aires differently than I’ve experienced Santiago. It is incredibly different living with someone my own age—good different, but it’s not that the alternative is bad.
Agostina and Andrea are both out of the house until pretty late at night, so I usually am the first to get home—which is fine with me, it’s just a big change from Mercedes, who is always around. Also, food isn’t nearly as big of a deal here—usually the family just eats dinner together, at around ten p.m.
That’s pretty much all that is going on these days—although tomorrow we will be going on a very special educational excursion, marching with the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. We got to sit down for a chat with one of the original founders of the organization yesterday, which was amazing—and I will post about it soon…I definitely recommend reading about them, they are incredible women and their organization is one of the most interesting and influential human rights organizations in the world:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo
http://www.madres.org/ (in Spanish)
We are in Buenos Aires for our last two weeks of the structured program, and it feels more like a vacation than work. We have interesting academic seminars, school visits, and educational excursions—more on those later—but we also have significantly more free time than we did in Santiago. It is really relaxing, and a good break for all of us before our Independent Study Projects begin.
I haven’t taken much time to talk about our group as a whole, although it has been a huge part of this experience. Brief overview: there are fifteen of us, fourteen girls and one guy, from all over the US. Hampshire is the only school doubly-represented (go Hamp!) and, although most go to schools on the East Coast, a few go to schools scattered across the Midwest and West. I feel really fortunate that in a group of fifteen, we all get along well enough to go out to dinner together, or to just hang out after class. I’m so happy that it’s worked out this way—that I feel comfortable with everyone, one-on-one or in a group; that I never feel self-conscious about my opinions on education or politics, even though they differ significantly from others’.
It’s really strange that, on November 6th, I will no longer be in this group to which I have become very accustomed, and that, chances are, I will be spending a significant amount of my ISP alone in Temuco. This is both exhilarating and nervewracking, but probably the best thing that will happen for my Spanish language skills.
Since arriving in Buenos Aires, I, along with other people from the group, have started to notice my English grammar and spelling going out the window. I think in English words but with Spanish grammar, for example: “I will go to the house of Kim at nineteen hours” or something like that. And I think about almost all of my conjunctions in Spanish nowadays—so if I come home saying “entonces” (so, anyway) all the time, please forgive me.
Entonces. If Santiago is a South American version of Brooklyn, then Buenos Aires is definitely Upper West Side Manhattan. There are trees and everyone is thin and beautiful. People always say it is very European, which it is—but it really reminds me of the area in Manhattan by Central Park.
I’m really enjoying living with my new host family—it is the polar opposite of living with Mercedes, but it is good just the same. I am living with a single mother, Andrea, and her nineteen-year-old daughter, Agostina, in a relatively large apartment in a nice area of the city. Agostina is studying musical comedy and circus arts, with a focus on trapeze, and is a lot of fun to hang out with. (Tonight I’m going to her dance class, where I will learn the “Thriller” dance!) I’ve met a few of her friends, who are all really nice, and we went to see some of her classmates in a show the other day—so I feel like I’m experiencing Buenos Aires differently than I’ve experienced Santiago. It is incredibly different living with someone my own age—good different, but it’s not that the alternative is bad.
Agostina and Andrea are both out of the house until pretty late at night, so I usually am the first to get home—which is fine with me, it’s just a big change from Mercedes, who is always around. Also, food isn’t nearly as big of a deal here—usually the family just eats dinner together, at around ten p.m.
That’s pretty much all that is going on these days—although tomorrow we will be going on a very special educational excursion, marching with the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. We got to sit down for a chat with one of the original founders of the organization yesterday, which was amazing—and I will post about it soon…I definitely recommend reading about them, they are incredible women and their organization is one of the most interesting and influential human rights organizations in the world:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo
http://www.madres.org/ (in Spanish)
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Time
I don’t understand time, and I never have. One day twenty-four hours go by so slowly that it is hard to focus, other days speed by so quickly that I don’t know where the time went. Sometimes it’s a combination of the two. But twenty-four hours never feels like exactly twenty-four hours. I’ve never looked at a week and said, “That felt like a week.” There’s always a modifier—“That felt like a long week,” “That week felt like two days,” “I can’t believe how slowly that week went by!” It’s always been “Why is time going so slowly,” or “I can’t believe how quickly time has gone.”
I can’t believe how quickly time has gone. I have been in Chile for over six weeks, now. The first part of our program is finished, and with it our Spanish classes, our seminar at Universidad Alberto Hurtado, our first practicum, and the significant portion of our Santiago homestay.
Tonight, Geoff’s family hosted a big fiesta for all of the students and their homestay families. It was really wonderful to finally meet everyone’s families—and was great to converse with new people—new patient people—in Spanish. And of course, because we’re in Chile, there was a dance party in the backyard—complete with Chilean, American, and British music (at one point “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles started playing), a conga line, and plenty of energy.
Tomorrow night, we leave for Temuco. We will be staying in a community called Chopod, living with one other student and a Mapuche family who may or may not have electricity or running water (and definitely don’t have internet…which will probably be my biggest struggle.) We will be attending workshops on intercultural and bilingual education, human rights, and the Mapadungun language. I am so excited for this portion of the trip—although I hear they eat even more in Temuco, and are still offended if you don’t eat everything. But I am very excited to get out of the city, and be back in the country—fresh air sounds fantastic. Below is a map of Chile—Santiago is in the second red area, Region Metropolitina, and Temuco is in the ninth region (Araucania.)
Also tomorrow night—Daylight Savings Time. As of right now, Chile is in the same time zone as New York, but beginning tomorrow we’ll be two hours apart (New York moves forward, Chile moves back.) As I said, I don’t understand time.
I can’t believe how quickly time has gone. I have been in Chile for over six weeks, now. The first part of our program is finished, and with it our Spanish classes, our seminar at Universidad Alberto Hurtado, our first practicum, and the significant portion of our Santiago homestay.
Tonight, Geoff’s family hosted a big fiesta for all of the students and their homestay families. It was really wonderful to finally meet everyone’s families—and was great to converse with new people—new patient people—in Spanish. And of course, because we’re in Chile, there was a dance party in the backyard—complete with Chilean, American, and British music (at one point “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles started playing), a conga line, and plenty of energy.
Tomorrow night, we leave for Temuco. We will be staying in a community called Chopod, living with one other student and a Mapuche family who may or may not have electricity or running water (and definitely don’t have internet…which will probably be my biggest struggle.) We will be attending workshops on intercultural and bilingual education, human rights, and the Mapadungun language. I am so excited for this portion of the trip—although I hear they eat even more in Temuco, and are still offended if you don’t eat everything. But I am very excited to get out of the city, and be back in the country—fresh air sounds fantastic. Below is a map of Chile—Santiago is in the second red area, Region Metropolitina, and Temuco is in the ninth region (Araucania.)
Also tomorrow night—Daylight Savings Time. As of right now, Chile is in the same time zone as New York, but beginning tomorrow we’ll be two hours apart (New York moves forward, Chile moves back.) As I said, I don’t understand time.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Catch-up!
I realize that I haven’t been posting as frequently as intended, and thus haven’t had time to write about a lot of important things—so this is essentially a catch-up post…
Fiestas de Patria
Fiestas de Patria, the Chilean Independence Day festivities, basically consist of a full week of festivals, parades, and parties, which were fun, but very tiring. Tracy and I went to one of many military parades over the weekend, where Michelle Bachelet, the president of Chile, led all of the armed forces in a march around Parque Bernardo O’Higgins:
Everyone gets very into Patria; municipal schools and public universities are closed for the week, asados (barbeques) are on every corner (barbequed pork is the “official” food of Patria), kids and families dress up in traditional costume. Mercedes loves Patria, and we went to a fonda (fair) to watch the National Cueca Competition:
It surprises me that people who went through such horrible things at the hands of their country are still so patriotic. Mercedes proudly displays the Chilean flag on her balcony; it is the largest present in the apartment complex.
Sickness and Homesickness
I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, which has put a damper on things. I’m exhausted most of the time, which is problematic when I want to go out at night and explore the city, but all I can do is sleep! Plus, a lot of things are going on at home and at Hampshire that I wish I could be there for—as in, protesting the prospect of Hampshire College turning into “Hampshire University” straying away from liberal arts education, as well as just really missing my friends and family a lot. Skype is great, but it’s hard to not be able to give people hugs through the computer. Don’t get me wrong, though—I’m having a great time here.
Valparaiso
Valparaiso is, without a doubt, the most colorful city I’ve ever seen. Murals adorn every wall, and the colors are reflected in the ocean and beautiful beaches. The people even wear more color than they do in Santiago!
(Alex surrounded by murals)
Our group visited two schools in the Valparaiso area—both municipal schools. The first we saw was an all-female technical school, Liceo Tecnica Feminina, where students complete a general track the first two years, and select one of five foci the last two: childcare, senior citizen care, design (like graphic design, but most of the time computers aren’t used), textiles (essentially sewing), and cooking. (Childcare and cooking are the most popular.) Of the 1,100 students in the school, 100 are mothers and 60 are currently pregnant. We spent a lot of time talking to students in the childcare program (four of the twenty-five or so students in the room were mothers, one seventeen-year-old had two children already) and discussed post-graduation goals, life in Valparaiso, and got many suggestions on what kind of food we should eat while there. I spoke in detail with four students, Tamara, Alexandra, Isabel, and Anjelica, who all said that they were happy to attend Liceo Tecninca Feminina, although some mentioned disappointment that the school wouldn’t prepare them for university (the school does not offer the standardized testing necessary for university acceptance, nor does the curriculum cover all of the material required, due to technical programs.) Tamara and Alexandra both wanted to be preschool teachers, and Isabel and Anjelica were interested in careers in education, as well. They had each spent a week working in a special school for children with autism, and had enjoyed that—Anjelica wanted to work there for awhile after she graduated in December.
The second school we saw was a municipal elementary school in a rural town an hour outside of the city. What surprised me the most was the contrast between this school and the rural schools I had seen in Nicaragua. I guess I had a preconceived notion of what education in rural farming communities was—but this school was actually very “modern.” They had an abundance of materials, innovative special education integration programs, school gardens, and small class sizes (16 students in a class with one professor, although the levels were mixed (first and second grade in the same classroom, third, forth, and fifth, etc.)) Even though we went to the school on a Saturday, three students and one alum (who was now in high school) came to talk to us, and all were very happy with the school. The principal was very welcoming, and took us on a tour of the school’s five classrooms, explaining along the way different types of intelligence, how the school has no violence, and how every graduated student is bussed, for free, to the closest high school a few towns over.
High Holy Days in Santiago
On the morning of the parade in Parque O’Higgins, Tracy and I went to Rosh Hashannah Services at Comunidad Isrealista Sefardi de Chile, a conservative Sephardic synagogue in a Santiago suburb. When we arrived at the gate, a security guard started talking to us, and we explained that we were exchange students who wanted to attend services for Rosh Hashannah. He then began to interrogate us: When did you get here? How long are you staying? Where are you from? What is your home synagogue? What movement? etc. We handed over drivers’ licenses, student ids, and cell phones (so they could confirm Tracy’s homestay.) Two women, who breezed through security with tickets, apparently complained to the president of the congregation that there were two gringas outside who weren’t being let in, and she came outside to chat with us. She was really kind about the whole ordeal—she explained, slowly enough for us to understand, that this was just a security precaution and she didn’t want us to feel unwelcome. As they were scanning our IDs, we talked for a bit about what we were doing in Chile, our home synagogues, and the fact that she was the first female president of the synagogue, where women still can’t read from the Torah. All in all, this ordeal took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth it—the president then walked us into the synagogue, helped us find seats, and invited us back for Yom Kippur.
Getting into the synagogue for Yom Kippur was much easier—they remembered us, and let us and our two other friends breeze through security. The Kol Nidre service was beautiful and incredibly moving. The rabbi began by asking us to put our arms around the people next to us, and there was something really special about having one arm around Susannah, a college student from the US, and the other arm around a random middle-aged Chilean woman, while the rabbi sang the blessing over the talit. The music was incredible—there were no instruments involved, just voice—and the rabbi and three cantors sang everything in a four-part harmony (with help from a choir during Kol Nidre.) I don’t consider myself to be a very religious person, but it was very comforting to be sitting five thousand miles away from home, singing songs I’ve grown up singing, in a language that isn’t English or Spanish, even if I don’t believe in all of the words.
Those are pretty much the big things that have been going on here. Tonight, Mercedes and I made strawberry jam and are going to begin a new puzzle of Pablo Neruda’s house in Valparaiso (I didn’t write about that before, but we went to La Sebastiana, and it was beautiful—by far my favorite of Neruda’s houses!) We have a lot of adventures planned for next week, which I’ll write about as they come along. It’s hard to believe that our time in Santiago is almost up—we spend most of October traveling, and then I’ll be spending most of November in a rural community in Southern Chile. Then December will roll around and I’ll be coming home. Time is going so quickly, and so slowly at the same time!
Fiestas de Patria
Fiestas de Patria, the Chilean Independence Day festivities, basically consist of a full week of festivals, parades, and parties, which were fun, but very tiring. Tracy and I went to one of many military parades over the weekend, where Michelle Bachelet, the president of Chile, led all of the armed forces in a march around Parque Bernardo O’Higgins:
Everyone gets very into Patria; municipal schools and public universities are closed for the week, asados (barbeques) are on every corner (barbequed pork is the “official” food of Patria), kids and families dress up in traditional costume. Mercedes loves Patria, and we went to a fonda (fair) to watch the National Cueca Competition:
It surprises me that people who went through such horrible things at the hands of their country are still so patriotic. Mercedes proudly displays the Chilean flag on her balcony; it is the largest present in the apartment complex.
Sickness and Homesickness
I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, which has put a damper on things. I’m exhausted most of the time, which is problematic when I want to go out at night and explore the city, but all I can do is sleep! Plus, a lot of things are going on at home and at Hampshire that I wish I could be there for—as in, protesting the prospect of Hampshire College turning into “Hampshire University” straying away from liberal arts education, as well as just really missing my friends and family a lot. Skype is great, but it’s hard to not be able to give people hugs through the computer. Don’t get me wrong, though—I’m having a great time here.
Valparaiso
Valparaiso is, without a doubt, the most colorful city I’ve ever seen. Murals adorn every wall, and the colors are reflected in the ocean and beautiful beaches. The people even wear more color than they do in Santiago!
(Alex surrounded by murals)
Our group visited two schools in the Valparaiso area—both municipal schools. The first we saw was an all-female technical school, Liceo Tecnica Feminina, where students complete a general track the first two years, and select one of five foci the last two: childcare, senior citizen care, design (like graphic design, but most of the time computers aren’t used), textiles (essentially sewing), and cooking. (Childcare and cooking are the most popular.) Of the 1,100 students in the school, 100 are mothers and 60 are currently pregnant. We spent a lot of time talking to students in the childcare program (four of the twenty-five or so students in the room were mothers, one seventeen-year-old had two children already) and discussed post-graduation goals, life in Valparaiso, and got many suggestions on what kind of food we should eat while there. I spoke in detail with four students, Tamara, Alexandra, Isabel, and Anjelica, who all said that they were happy to attend Liceo Tecninca Feminina, although some mentioned disappointment that the school wouldn’t prepare them for university (the school does not offer the standardized testing necessary for university acceptance, nor does the curriculum cover all of the material required, due to technical programs.) Tamara and Alexandra both wanted to be preschool teachers, and Isabel and Anjelica were interested in careers in education, as well. They had each spent a week working in a special school for children with autism, and had enjoyed that—Anjelica wanted to work there for awhile after she graduated in December.
The second school we saw was a municipal elementary school in a rural town an hour outside of the city. What surprised me the most was the contrast between this school and the rural schools I had seen in Nicaragua. I guess I had a preconceived notion of what education in rural farming communities was—but this school was actually very “modern.” They had an abundance of materials, innovative special education integration programs, school gardens, and small class sizes (16 students in a class with one professor, although the levels were mixed (first and second grade in the same classroom, third, forth, and fifth, etc.)) Even though we went to the school on a Saturday, three students and one alum (who was now in high school) came to talk to us, and all were very happy with the school. The principal was very welcoming, and took us on a tour of the school’s five classrooms, explaining along the way different types of intelligence, how the school has no violence, and how every graduated student is bussed, for free, to the closest high school a few towns over.
High Holy Days in Santiago
On the morning of the parade in Parque O’Higgins, Tracy and I went to Rosh Hashannah Services at Comunidad Isrealista Sefardi de Chile, a conservative Sephardic synagogue in a Santiago suburb. When we arrived at the gate, a security guard started talking to us, and we explained that we were exchange students who wanted to attend services for Rosh Hashannah. He then began to interrogate us: When did you get here? How long are you staying? Where are you from? What is your home synagogue? What movement? etc. We handed over drivers’ licenses, student ids, and cell phones (so they could confirm Tracy’s homestay.) Two women, who breezed through security with tickets, apparently complained to the president of the congregation that there were two gringas outside who weren’t being let in, and she came outside to chat with us. She was really kind about the whole ordeal—she explained, slowly enough for us to understand, that this was just a security precaution and she didn’t want us to feel unwelcome. As they were scanning our IDs, we talked for a bit about what we were doing in Chile, our home synagogues, and the fact that she was the first female president of the synagogue, where women still can’t read from the Torah. All in all, this ordeal took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth it—the president then walked us into the synagogue, helped us find seats, and invited us back for Yom Kippur.
Getting into the synagogue for Yom Kippur was much easier—they remembered us, and let us and our two other friends breeze through security. The Kol Nidre service was beautiful and incredibly moving. The rabbi began by asking us to put our arms around the people next to us, and there was something really special about having one arm around Susannah, a college student from the US, and the other arm around a random middle-aged Chilean woman, while the rabbi sang the blessing over the talit. The music was incredible—there were no instruments involved, just voice—and the rabbi and three cantors sang everything in a four-part harmony (with help from a choir during Kol Nidre.) I don’t consider myself to be a very religious person, but it was very comforting to be sitting five thousand miles away from home, singing songs I’ve grown up singing, in a language that isn’t English or Spanish, even if I don’t believe in all of the words.
Those are pretty much the big things that have been going on here. Tonight, Mercedes and I made strawberry jam and are going to begin a new puzzle of Pablo Neruda’s house in Valparaiso (I didn’t write about that before, but we went to La Sebastiana, and it was beautiful—by far my favorite of Neruda’s houses!) We have a lot of adventures planned for next week, which I’ll write about as they come along. It’s hard to believe that our time in Santiago is almost up—we spend most of October traveling, and then I’ll be spending most of November in a rural community in Southern Chile. Then December will roll around and I’ll be coming home. Time is going so quickly, and so slowly at the same time!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Educational Inequity, Part One
Monday, I began the teaching practicum portion of the SIT program, and the experience was not ideal. I requested to be placed in a municipal elementary school, to work with students who were just learning how to read and write, but was accidentally taken to the adjacent municipal high school, and placed in an English class, at the equivalent of the ninth grade level. The class was disorderly and unfocused; the students rude (they were told they could ask me questions in English and they did—“Can you dance sexy?” was my favorite, followed by “Can you go to parties?” and “What do you think of our teacher—is he beautiful or is he ugly?”); and the teacher inattentive and ineffectual.
Who is to blame for this? The students: for not being motivated, for not paying attention, for not aiming high? The teacher: for not giving his students enough attention, enough work; for not being a valuable resource for them? The education system: for failing students who can’t afford private school tuition by sticking them in graffiti-ridden buildings in drug-infested areas, giving them sub-par materials, and providing them with a lower-quality education? The government: for not changing the system when it had the chance?
The educational system in Chile is based on the same neoliberal model as our educational system in the United States, and there are strong similarities between the two. The strongest I’ve found is that, when it comes to K-12 education, the biggest factor in your success is how much you can pay for it.
There are three types of first/secondary schools in Chile, rather than the two we have in the US:
1. Municipal schools, which are public schools—free to all students, and enrollment is determined primarily by the students’ residence. However, there is a voucher system, where students can choose to attend schools out of district. Municipal schools receive 3,000 pesos (roughly $6 American) per student per day, so they are constantly fighting for student enrollment, and thus, better funding. Unfortunately, most municipal schools are poor quality, similar to the majority of US urban public schools located in low income areas. 47% of Chilean students attend municipal schools.
2. Partially subsidized schools, where the government and parents share the cost of tuition. Sometimes the cost is split 50/50, other times it is less even. Although we haven’t spent a lot of time talking about these types of schools, I am interested in learning more about them. As can be assumed, students in these schools score in between municipal and private school students on standardized tests. 46% of Chilean students attend these schools.
3. Private schools, where parents cover all tuition costs. The students in these schools come from higher socioeconomic levels, score higher on standardized tests, and have exceptionally higher university attendance rates than either the municipal or partially subsidized schools. Sound familiar? Only 7% of Chilean students attend private schools.
(statistics are taken from the most recent census in 2008)
Luckily, I was able to change my placement and go to the correct school on Wednesday. I observed in a first grade class where, instead of being whistled at, I was called Tia Sofia (literal translation: Aunt Sophie). Instead of sitting in a corner, I was able to actively help students throughout the lesson. And I got to spend literally three hours watching students learn how to read and write, which I think is my favorite activity of all time. All students in municipal schools here learn how to write in cursive in the first grade. My first-grade-self would be so jealous! I remember begging my parents to buy me one of those cursive practice workbooks because I couldn’t wait for the third grade, when my handwriting would suddenly become elegant and loopy…
But, what my first-grade-self wouldn’t understand, and what part of me wishes my twenty-year-old-self didn’t understand, is that these students—cute kids, who are proud of their work, and most of them truly excited to learn—will, one day, end up in the adjacent municipal high school, sitting in the same, dark, graffiti-covered classrooms as their older brothers and sisters.
Tia Andrea, the teacher of the first grade at Escuela Municipal Miguel de Cervantes, teaches two classes: the class I observed, and another first grade class at a private school nearby. The difference between the two classes, she said, is staggering. Although the class in the private school is almost double the size of the class in the municipal school (weird, I know!) the private school students consistently have something that the municipal school students rarely do: the benefit of strong parental support. The private school students come in accompanied by their parents, healthy lunches held in little hands, backpacks filled with notebooks and pencils. They pay attention in class, and are ahead on the material. The municipal school students walk to school alone through dangerous areas. They are more rowdy during class time. They fall behind quickly. One student, said Tia Andrea, owns only one pencil. Only one notebook.
Who is to blame for this? The students: for being born into poverty, and thus having fewer academic opportunities? The teachers: for doing their best, which, more times than not, isn’t enough? The parents: who may or may not be aware of their options for educating their children, who may or may not believe that the way they were educated is the only way possible?
In our academic seminars, we have been asked to propose our own solutions to end educational inequity. For me, this is like being asked to come up with a plan for achieving world peace or ending world hunger. Something ideal, something necessary, but something that doesn’t have a solution. Every time I have an idea that I think has validity, someone says something contradictory and important—so my ideas change, but the outcome is still imperfect. I guess the goal in fixing the education system is to work toward gaining something rather than actually gaining it, in hope that we eventually, somehow, get there.
Who is to blame for this? The students: for not being motivated, for not paying attention, for not aiming high? The teacher: for not giving his students enough attention, enough work; for not being a valuable resource for them? The education system: for failing students who can’t afford private school tuition by sticking them in graffiti-ridden buildings in drug-infested areas, giving them sub-par materials, and providing them with a lower-quality education? The government: for not changing the system when it had the chance?
The educational system in Chile is based on the same neoliberal model as our educational system in the United States, and there are strong similarities between the two. The strongest I’ve found is that, when it comes to K-12 education, the biggest factor in your success is how much you can pay for it.
There are three types of first/secondary schools in Chile, rather than the two we have in the US:
1. Municipal schools, which are public schools—free to all students, and enrollment is determined primarily by the students’ residence. However, there is a voucher system, where students can choose to attend schools out of district. Municipal schools receive 3,000 pesos (roughly $6 American) per student per day, so they are constantly fighting for student enrollment, and thus, better funding. Unfortunately, most municipal schools are poor quality, similar to the majority of US urban public schools located in low income areas. 47% of Chilean students attend municipal schools.
2. Partially subsidized schools, where the government and parents share the cost of tuition. Sometimes the cost is split 50/50, other times it is less even. Although we haven’t spent a lot of time talking about these types of schools, I am interested in learning more about them. As can be assumed, students in these schools score in between municipal and private school students on standardized tests. 46% of Chilean students attend these schools.
3. Private schools, where parents cover all tuition costs. The students in these schools come from higher socioeconomic levels, score higher on standardized tests, and have exceptionally higher university attendance rates than either the municipal or partially subsidized schools. Sound familiar? Only 7% of Chilean students attend private schools.
(statistics are taken from the most recent census in 2008)
Luckily, I was able to change my placement and go to the correct school on Wednesday. I observed in a first grade class where, instead of being whistled at, I was called Tia Sofia (literal translation: Aunt Sophie). Instead of sitting in a corner, I was able to actively help students throughout the lesson. And I got to spend literally three hours watching students learn how to read and write, which I think is my favorite activity of all time. All students in municipal schools here learn how to write in cursive in the first grade. My first-grade-self would be so jealous! I remember begging my parents to buy me one of those cursive practice workbooks because I couldn’t wait for the third grade, when my handwriting would suddenly become elegant and loopy…
But, what my first-grade-self wouldn’t understand, and what part of me wishes my twenty-year-old-self didn’t understand, is that these students—cute kids, who are proud of their work, and most of them truly excited to learn—will, one day, end up in the adjacent municipal high school, sitting in the same, dark, graffiti-covered classrooms as their older brothers and sisters.
Tia Andrea, the teacher of the first grade at Escuela Municipal Miguel de Cervantes, teaches two classes: the class I observed, and another first grade class at a private school nearby. The difference between the two classes, she said, is staggering. Although the class in the private school is almost double the size of the class in the municipal school (weird, I know!) the private school students consistently have something that the municipal school students rarely do: the benefit of strong parental support. The private school students come in accompanied by their parents, healthy lunches held in little hands, backpacks filled with notebooks and pencils. They pay attention in class, and are ahead on the material. The municipal school students walk to school alone through dangerous areas. They are more rowdy during class time. They fall behind quickly. One student, said Tia Andrea, owns only one pencil. Only one notebook.
Who is to blame for this? The students: for being born into poverty, and thus having fewer academic opportunities? The teachers: for doing their best, which, more times than not, isn’t enough? The parents: who may or may not be aware of their options for educating their children, who may or may not believe that the way they were educated is the only way possible?
In our academic seminars, we have been asked to propose our own solutions to end educational inequity. For me, this is like being asked to come up with a plan for achieving world peace or ending world hunger. Something ideal, something necessary, but something that doesn’t have a solution. Every time I have an idea that I think has validity, someone says something contradictory and important—so my ideas change, but the outcome is still imperfect. I guess the goal in fixing the education system is to work toward gaining something rather than actually gaining it, in hope that we eventually, somehow, get there.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
A Long Week
I think my least favorite part of being a language learner is the miscommunications that are inevitable in almost every conversation. Luckily they're usually small, such as putting something back in the wrong place, or saying somethign grammatically incorrect which changes the meaning of the sentence--but later turns into a funny joke. However, when it's a combination of linguistic and cultural miscommunications, things tend to turn very stressful very quickly.
I had a great time with Mercedes, her daughter Caty, and her grandsons Nestor and Camilo last weekend in San Antonio. A really great time, in fact. But when Mercedes said we’d be returning to Santiago “early on Sunday, around ten,” I assumed that we’d be returning early, around ten—am. Because of this, I didn’t bring any of my homework with me, and when I realized my mistake on Sunday around noon, I began to get a bit stressed. Luckily I was able to call a friend, who gave me the homework assignments that I could do without my materials, and I was able to complete some of the work before late that evening—and luckily Mercedes understood my frustration and we left a bit earlier, and arrived back home early, around eight (pm.)
Regardless, San Antonio was fantastic. It’s a beautiful city in general. It is a coastal city; and generally poor—most of the people who live there are artisans or fishermen, although Caty is a psychologist. But color is everywhere—in the houses, in the vegetation, in the clothes the people wear. In the morning, I taught the boys how to make panqueques gringos (pancakes) which was a blast, and later I tried to teach them how to play Go Fish, but Nestor didn’t really get it and Camilo kept cheating (I think it’s a general truth that kids will try to cheat you when playing Go Fish. They always do…) Later, we went to a seaside market where literally hundreds of pelicans and sea lions perch and wait for tourists and fishermen to throw them food. It was an incredible sight:
This week has been very busy, but in a good way—full of interesting and fun things. Tuesday was Ana’s birthday, and we had multiple celebrations. In the middle of Spanish class, the two levels joined together to carrate (party) with a special lunch topped off with delicious chocolate cake. We sang Cumpleanos Feliz (Happy Birthday) about thirty times before getting it right, and then proceeded to sing and dance to other songs we’ve been learning in class. That night, went over to Ana’s house for empanadas and pisco sours. (There are three things every Chilean drinks: black tea, Coca-Cola, and pisco sours. I feel like I have been talking a lot about pisco sours and need to explain: they’re one part pisco, one part lemon or lime juice, and one part sugar. They’re really delicious.) Ana’s family was really sweet, and I’ve heard a lot about them, so I was excited to finally meet them. It was interesting, also, to see the different environments in which we’re living—Ana lives with her host mother, her mother’s boyfriend, and two younger siblings (aged four and two years) in a large house in Nunoa, a suburb of Santiago. Needless to say, this is a very different situation than mine—Mercedes and I live in a small apartment in the city, and life with two kids under the age of five is pretty much the exact opposite of a very calm, one-on-one environment with a sixty-eight-year-old.
On Wednesday, I went with Mercedes to a meeting of the Writers’ Society of Chile (she’s a member there) and was invited by the professor to participate in that day’s workshop. The topic: nonverbal storytelling (perfect for Spanish language learners!) and a lecture on Pablo Neruda (perfect because he's a Chilean writer I've actually read!) Everyone spoke really slowly, as many writers tend to, so I was able to understand pretty much everything that was going on, although I had problems expressing my own thoughts, as usual. It was incredible—it was only me and a bunch of published Chilean writers telling stories with our bodies, and then verbalizing them, and talking about what we saw in others’ work. I have a feeling that this will be one of the more memorable events of my stay in Santiago, and I hope to attend at least one more workshop before I leave--hopefully I'll be able to write in Spanish by then!
Wednesday night, Roberto invited all of us over to his house for dinner and, yes, pisco sours. We got there at 8:30, and dinner wasn’t served until after midnight—but it didn’t matter, because we actually got to meet and talk with Chileans our age. Roberto’s sons and nephews were there, and they introduced us to some of their friends, and we danced and chatted with them, and each other, and Roberto’s parents (who are completely adorable—they performed the cueca and a tango number for us.) No one left until 1:30 am. I was one of the first people to leave, and felt incredibly lame, but I almost fell asleep in the cab, and didn’t get home until about 2. Luckily, class on Thursday didn’t start until 11, so I was able to get some shut-eye…
Today began Patria (Independence Day) activities, and they’ll be continuing throughout the weekend, so I’ll post about that soon. I will say, for now, that I ate more food today than one ever should in twenty-four hours, and that I tried pork for the second time in my life (l’shana tova!)
I had a great time with Mercedes, her daughter Caty, and her grandsons Nestor and Camilo last weekend in San Antonio. A really great time, in fact. But when Mercedes said we’d be returning to Santiago “early on Sunday, around ten,” I assumed that we’d be returning early, around ten—am. Because of this, I didn’t bring any of my homework with me, and when I realized my mistake on Sunday around noon, I began to get a bit stressed. Luckily I was able to call a friend, who gave me the homework assignments that I could do without my materials, and I was able to complete some of the work before late that evening—and luckily Mercedes understood my frustration and we left a bit earlier, and arrived back home early, around eight (pm.)
Regardless, San Antonio was fantastic. It’s a beautiful city in general. It is a coastal city; and generally poor—most of the people who live there are artisans or fishermen, although Caty is a psychologist. But color is everywhere—in the houses, in the vegetation, in the clothes the people wear. In the morning, I taught the boys how to make panqueques gringos (pancakes) which was a blast, and later I tried to teach them how to play Go Fish, but Nestor didn’t really get it and Camilo kept cheating (I think it’s a general truth that kids will try to cheat you when playing Go Fish. They always do…) Later, we went to a seaside market where literally hundreds of pelicans and sea lions perch and wait for tourists and fishermen to throw them food. It was an incredible sight:
This week has been very busy, but in a good way—full of interesting and fun things. Tuesday was Ana’s birthday, and we had multiple celebrations. In the middle of Spanish class, the two levels joined together to carrate (party) with a special lunch topped off with delicious chocolate cake. We sang Cumpleanos Feliz (Happy Birthday) about thirty times before getting it right, and then proceeded to sing and dance to other songs we’ve been learning in class. That night, went over to Ana’s house for empanadas and pisco sours. (There are three things every Chilean drinks: black tea, Coca-Cola, and pisco sours. I feel like I have been talking a lot about pisco sours and need to explain: they’re one part pisco, one part lemon or lime juice, and one part sugar. They’re really delicious.) Ana’s family was really sweet, and I’ve heard a lot about them, so I was excited to finally meet them. It was interesting, also, to see the different environments in which we’re living—Ana lives with her host mother, her mother’s boyfriend, and two younger siblings (aged four and two years) in a large house in Nunoa, a suburb of Santiago. Needless to say, this is a very different situation than mine—Mercedes and I live in a small apartment in the city, and life with two kids under the age of five is pretty much the exact opposite of a very calm, one-on-one environment with a sixty-eight-year-old.
On Wednesday, I went with Mercedes to a meeting of the Writers’ Society of Chile (she’s a member there) and was invited by the professor to participate in that day’s workshop. The topic: nonverbal storytelling (perfect for Spanish language learners!) and a lecture on Pablo Neruda (perfect because he's a Chilean writer I've actually read!) Everyone spoke really slowly, as many writers tend to, so I was able to understand pretty much everything that was going on, although I had problems expressing my own thoughts, as usual. It was incredible—it was only me and a bunch of published Chilean writers telling stories with our bodies, and then verbalizing them, and talking about what we saw in others’ work. I have a feeling that this will be one of the more memorable events of my stay in Santiago, and I hope to attend at least one more workshop before I leave--hopefully I'll be able to write in Spanish by then!
Wednesday night, Roberto invited all of us over to his house for dinner and, yes, pisco sours. We got there at 8:30, and dinner wasn’t served until after midnight—but it didn’t matter, because we actually got to meet and talk with Chileans our age. Roberto’s sons and nephews were there, and they introduced us to some of their friends, and we danced and chatted with them, and each other, and Roberto’s parents (who are completely adorable—they performed the cueca and a tango number for us.) No one left until 1:30 am. I was one of the first people to leave, and felt incredibly lame, but I almost fell asleep in the cab, and didn’t get home until about 2. Luckily, class on Thursday didn’t start until 11, so I was able to get some shut-eye…
Today began Patria (Independence Day) activities, and they’ll be continuing throughout the weekend, so I’ll post about that soon. I will say, for now, that I ate more food today than one ever should in twenty-four hours, and that I tried pork for the second time in my life (l’shana tova!)
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The US in Chile
Roberto, our Academic Director, likes to say that Chile is a country of contradictions—a mix of extreme wealth and extreme poverty, climate ranging from tundra to the tropics.
One comparison that’s been apparent to me in the past few days has been one of great cultural pride contrasted with significant Americanization. I wasn’t really expecting Chile to be too Americanized—I figured it had its own history, its own culture, and had been warned that the general sentiment was pretty anti-American (although I later learned this applied more to the Bush Administration than to Americans in general—and people here tend to like Obama.) Besides, I figured, Chile is one of the wealthiest nations in Latin America, so it had no reason to idolize the US as a place of prosperity. So I was surprised to come here and find that I could only buy American brands of shampoo and toothpaste.
Santiago is scattered with McDonald’s, Burger King, and Starbucks franchises—although at McDonald’s, they serve avocado. TV shows from the States (such as the Suite Life of Zack and Cody, the Fairly OddParents, and That’s So Raven) are on television all the time. I took a cab to a neighborhood called Nunoa to meet some friends, and Radar by Britney Spears was playing on the radio. (Digression: the cab company was able to understand my location and where I needed to go! Success!)
Our class went to visit a colegio (primary school, first grade through eighth) on Friday for our first “educational excursion.” The school was located in La Victoria, a poverty-stricken area of Santiago with an amazing view of the Andes mountains. The school boasts academic excellence in a community ridden with drug abuse, alcoholism, and neglect.
The kids danced the cueca (a traditional Chilean dance) for us and then asked if we knew the Jonas Brothers. They showed us their math and reading workbooks and their Hannah Montana pencils. They shared drawings of Winnie-the-Pooh and his friend Igor (Eeyore.)
The biggest sense of Chilean pride I’ve seen thus far is that of support for La Roja, the Chilean futbol (soccer) team. Yesterday we played in a World Cup qualifier game, and everyone in the entire country (or, everyone in our program and their homestay families) watched us tie with Venezuela 2-2. This was a huge problem, as Chile is ranked #2 in Latin America, and Venezuela #6—and the country is currently in recovery…but we’re playing Brazil on Wednesday (ranked #1) which should be an exciting match.
But pride is also evident in smaller ways—for example, yesterday it rained excessively, and Mercedes and I cooked sopaipillas, which are little cakes made from squash dough and covered in honey and orange peel sauce. “It’s tradition to cook these when it rains,” she told me, “so when we go to the supermarket there probably won’t be a lot of squash left.” When we got there, there was some squash, but not a lot—so I guess it didn’t matter that we were surrounded by Hellman’s mayonnaise or Coca-Cola. People all over were making sopaipillas and sitting at home and watching the game.
(I have taken a lot of photos and posted them on Facebook—so if we’re not Facebook friends, you can check them out here.)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Home!
I’ve officially moved into my new home here in Santiago! I’m living with a woman named Mercedes, who is in her sixties, in her apartment in Santiago Central (downtown Santiago.) Mercedes is absolutely wonderful. For the past two days, we’ve been walking around Santiago and she’s been showing me interesting places and how to get around the city. I am her eleventh homestay chica, so I think she has this whole first-few-days thing down.
Mercedes is a really incredible person—besides being a wonderful homestay mom, she is a writer (she has written a novel, a memoir, and a lot of unpublished poetry (although one of her poems is in an anthology), a mother of four and grandmother of nine, and a political and human rights activist. She has an amazing story, although I don’t know all of it—I do know a bit about her husband, Ivan. Ivan was a socialist, and was assassinated by the government in 1973, about ten days after Pinochet took over. Mercedes was left alone with three young children, and was still pregnant with her youngest son at the time (or he had just been born). This is the subject of her memoir, and I really look forward to reading it one day when my Spanish is good enough. (I’ve been looking for a link to the book, but I can’t find one. I will post when I do.) I know that she’s still very politically involved, which is exciting because there’s a big presidential election coming up in December, and I’m very excited to learn a lot about the political situation here. Even with this background, Mercedes is very upbeat and happy—she laughs a lot, and is very kind and patient with me and my poor Spanish skills.
Yesterday, when we were walking around, we saw a wedding and sat in on the ceremony…I felt a bit like I was in Wedding Crashers, but in a completely benevolent way. It was a really beautiful ceremony, and I understood bits and pieces…and the bride and groom were very happy. This was the first first wedding I’ve been to—the rest have been second weddings—so it was really exciting. Mercedes kept joking that we should put on party dresses and follow the guests to the after party!
Today we walked around for a bit and saw one of Pablo Neruda’s other houses—turns out he has three: Isla Negra, the one we saw as a group a few days ago, Las Caschona, here in Santiago, and Sebastiana, which is in Valparaiso, a bit north of here. (As a side note, Las Chascona was the nickname of Neruda’s third wife, Matilda, and it has something to do with her crazy curly hair…I’ve finally found a word to describe the texture of my hair! It doesn’t translate very well, though, I don’t think.)
I had my first big Spanish challenge today—trying to buy a phone card to call home. I still have no idea what happened in that exchange, or how to use the card, but I do know that I can’t use it to call the States and that it cost 5,000 pesos (a bit less than $10.) Thank goodness Mercedes was there to help out with that one. I have my Spanish placement test tomorrow morning, and I’m a bit nervous…but I figure that whatever level I wind up placing in I’m going to improve a whole lot. Even over the past two days I felt strong improvement, and I’ve been learning a lot of vocabulary.
That's all for now! I have internet in the apartment (it was less challenging to get WiFi internet for my computer than a phone card) so I will probably be posting more frequently than I thought! Buenos noches!
Mercedes is a really incredible person—besides being a wonderful homestay mom, she is a writer (she has written a novel, a memoir, and a lot of unpublished poetry (although one of her poems is in an anthology), a mother of four and grandmother of nine, and a political and human rights activist. She has an amazing story, although I don’t know all of it—I do know a bit about her husband, Ivan. Ivan was a socialist, and was assassinated by the government in 1973, about ten days after Pinochet took over. Mercedes was left alone with three young children, and was still pregnant with her youngest son at the time (or he had just been born). This is the subject of her memoir, and I really look forward to reading it one day when my Spanish is good enough. (I’ve been looking for a link to the book, but I can’t find one. I will post when I do.) I know that she’s still very politically involved, which is exciting because there’s a big presidential election coming up in December, and I’m very excited to learn a lot about the political situation here. Even with this background, Mercedes is very upbeat and happy—she laughs a lot, and is very kind and patient with me and my poor Spanish skills.
Yesterday, when we were walking around, we saw a wedding and sat in on the ceremony…I felt a bit like I was in Wedding Crashers, but in a completely benevolent way. It was a really beautiful ceremony, and I understood bits and pieces…and the bride and groom were very happy. This was the first first wedding I’ve been to—the rest have been second weddings—so it was really exciting. Mercedes kept joking that we should put on party dresses and follow the guests to the after party!
Today we walked around for a bit and saw one of Pablo Neruda’s other houses—turns out he has three: Isla Negra, the one we saw as a group a few days ago, Las Caschona, here in Santiago, and Sebastiana, which is in Valparaiso, a bit north of here. (As a side note, Las Chascona was the nickname of Neruda’s third wife, Matilda, and it has something to do with her crazy curly hair…I’ve finally found a word to describe the texture of my hair! It doesn’t translate very well, though, I don’t think.)
I had my first big Spanish challenge today—trying to buy a phone card to call home. I still have no idea what happened in that exchange, or how to use the card, but I do know that I can’t use it to call the States and that it cost 5,000 pesos (a bit less than $10.) Thank goodness Mercedes was there to help out with that one. I have my Spanish placement test tomorrow morning, and I’m a bit nervous…but I figure that whatever level I wind up placing in I’m going to improve a whole lot. Even over the past two days I felt strong improvement, and I’ve been learning a lot of vocabulary.
That's all for now! I have internet in the apartment (it was less challenging to get WiFi internet for my computer than a phone card) so I will probably be posting more frequently than I thought! Buenos noches!
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