What a bad day in Chile looks like...

Okay, well, I suppose after a series of super-awesome-amazing days I had to see this coming.  There was bound to be a bad day in there somewhere.  Mine was today.

This week we are giving tests meaning that the first class of the week is review and the second is a test.  I had four classes without incident.  We actually have evaluations due this week, wherein the students evaluate us.  All four of my first classes of the week assured me that they gave me great evaluations.  They all asked me if I would be their teacher next semester and begged me to come back to teach them for their second semester.  I was feeling pretty great.  My students seem to genuinely like me and most of them are doing very well and clearly learning a great deal.

Then, today, I had the class that challenges me week after week.

It is a group of about ten girls who are studying to be notaries.  Their English is insanely limited.  I have three basic classes and in the other two I speak Spanish maybe 10% of the time but the rest is said in English.  This forces them to pay attention and also to become accustomed to my accent and manner of speaking.  In these two classes if the students don't understand, they ask me to repeat or ask me to explain.  All my students know that I have no problem answering any question they throw at me, that I will never make fun of them and that I will always do my best to answer everything. 

I have always had problems with this one basic class.  They are hesitant to ask questions, I have to drag answers out of them constantly and when I speak even the simplest English they look at me like I'm a martian.  This was permissible  the first couple weeks.  They came in with a less than basic knowledge of English and I had to teach them things like the alphabet, numbers and simple questions like "What's your name?"  and "Where are you from?"  However, as the weeks saunter on the clueless looks and questions like "Que significa 'mas'?" become tiresome.  While my other classes have been constantly progressing this one has been at something of a standstill.  Part of that has to do with the fact that the attendance is extremely poor.  Out of ten students typically four or five show up, often without books and always without the urge to learn.  I understand that English is a difficult language to master and the way the classes are scheduled (2 classes of 1.5 hours a week) makes it hard to learn properly, but all these students are adults.  Most of them are older than me.  They are capable of studying outside of class, of coming to me for help and of doing outside work.

Today was the review day before the test.  We had a midterm 4 classes ago and we have another on Friday.  The class after the midterm no one showed up.  The next class 5 showed up without their books.  The next class 3 showed up but I went home ill in the middle of it.  Today I told them we could start 45 minutes early because we had most of the unit to cover and theoretically only one class to cover it.  For the first hour or so of the class things were going smoothly.  There were about 8 students there, a recent record, and they seemed to be understanding the new concepts.  I was speaking in mostly Spanish for the sake of time.  I assigned them an activity to do and left the room to go to the bathroom.  When I came back I was walking into an ambush.

One student immediately asked me why we couldn't push the test back to next week.  I told her simply that it wasn't my decision when the tests were given.  Another student immediately started complaining about the fact that there hadn't been enough time since the last test to learn the new material.   I pointed out to her that she'd missed the last three classes so it was difficult for me to be empathetic.  The continued to complain about the test and then began to criticize the way I teach.  The said that they wished they had Chilean teachers because apparently my level of Spanish isn't up to par with what they need.  I told them that they would never learn English if I only spoke to them in Spanish but they didn't seem to care.  They told me I don't support them, that I don't give them enough help, enough guidance before tests.  Other teachers are better.  Other teachers are more helpful.  Other teachers speak more Spanish.  GUESS WHAT LADIES...I'M NOT CHILEAN.

I could feel myself getting to a dangerous point and I didn't want to lose control and start screaming at all of them like I wanted.  I told them simply that whatever problems they had with me or with the English department they could register them with my boss.  I told them where to find her and what her name is.  I told them that I have nothing to do with when the tests or given, that I don't write the tests, that it's not my decision how often the classes meet.  All things you would think that a class full of adults would be able to understand.  I told them if they didn't like my class they should go speak to my director and ask to switch.  They told me all the other classes are full.  So I guess they already tried. 

I was close to tears at this point so I gave them a worksheet and left them in the room for about half an hour.  I wanted fresh air and to calm down.  I came back to them and told them that we were done for the day and that we would start class early again on Friday.  I also told them we could push the test back to next week.  It seemed to appease them and they were cheerful as they left the classroom.  I doubt they know just how much they upset me.

I am not someone who takes my responsibilities lightly.  I feel responsible for each one of my students.  I want them all to succeed and I try as hard as I can even when they don't try at all.  None of them has a clue what it's like to be thrown into a culture you're not accustomed to, speaking a language that isn't your own, without any training.  I want to be a teacher for the rest of my life and I am genuinely hurt by students who imply that I don't support them and that I don't care about them.  The hurt my feelings, they hurt my pride and I don't feel that I deserved it. 

My friend and fellow teacher gave me a ride home and gave me a pep talk.  He told me that students who are failing always look for somewhere to put the blame.  He said "Tu eres lo que eres, y nada mas, y si a alguien no le gustas olvidalo."  (You are who you are and nothing more and if someone doesn't like you, forget them.)  He said that I shouldn't worry about it but the fact that I am worried means I care and that's important.  He cheered me up a bit but I still feel like a piece of you-know-what. 

I'm hoping a good night's sleep and maybe a chat with my director tomorrow will put me right.  Then I can get back to my good-day streak. 

Baila, gringa, baila!

Well, today was theoretically just a typical day in Chile.  I had two classes to give and they both went relatively well.  One was a basic class and one was an intermediate.  I like Wednesdays, they are pretty easy and I like both the classes I teach.  My Tuesday-Thursday 8:30 AM class asked me earlier in the week if I'd like to get a drink with them today.  I said "yes" hoping to get to know some of my students better.  Today we went to a bar called "La Piojera."  I've been there several times.  It's kind of a tourist spot and at the same time totally, authentically Chilean.  My students, although Chilean, had never been there and my friend Jenna had never been there either so I invited her. 

We started the night with one "terremoto."  This is a Chilean drink compose of wine, fernet (Argentine liquor) and pineapple ice cream.  We were talking, singing and having a great time.  My students are all around my age so we have a lot to talk about.  It was nice to get to know them outside of an academic atmosphere.  We talked about love lives, jobs and they wanted to ask me a lot about the US.  They are one of my favorite classes.  Such a fun group. Then we ordered another terremoto...and another.  Then another professor from my campus joined us.  By then we were having a blast.  Singing with the band that was playing, singing alone.  At one point I got up to use the restroom where I was followed by applause from some of the Chilean men in the bar.  On the way back I was welcomed by the chant "Baila, gringa, baila!" which basically means, "dance, blonde girl, dance!"  So, I danced a little, to more applause, and then sat back down. 

Me with my new hat and heart balloon

We left a little while later, my class telling me to be sure to be there tomorrow at 8:30!  The assured me they would be there too, but we'll see.  Before we headed to the metro my friend Jenna wanted to check out a shoe store that she'd seen.  She wanted to buy some boots, since we're heading into winter.  In the store there were four male employees.  Each employee treated us like we were the best thing they'd ever seen.  They were helpful, to the point of almost being annoying and Jenna got the boots she wanted.  On our way out they asked us out for drinks, gave us hats with their store's name on them, took pictures of us for some ads and gave us heart-shaped balloons.  Not an unusual night in Chile.

Lagrimas Para Patagonia

I don't know if this has made the international news but recently the Chilean government passed a bill which will allow hydroelectric dams to be built in the Patagonian wilderness in the south of Chile.  They passed it despite the fact that over 60% of Chileans opposed it and now people are mad.  And if there's one thing Chileans know how to do, it's let everyone know just how mad they are by protesting.  Last night, this happened:
Movilización Nacional NO A HIDROSAYÉN (The website is run by a friend of mine)

For those of you who can't read Spanish this was basically a call to people all over Chile to mobilize and march.  There were designated meeting areas in a number of cities throughout the country.  Everyone was told to wear something green and carry a candle.  Here in Santiago they marched through the center of the town to La Moneda, which is the Chilean equivalent of the White House.  My friend, Jenna, lives right on one of the streets they were marching down so we came down during the fifth or sixth wave of the march to get in on it a little.  We walked with them a bit until we hit a row of carabineros (policemen).  The march pushed passed them but we had to run to the grocery store.  After we finished shopping we came out to find that we were caged into the store because the protest had gotten out of hand.  People were running to escape the water cannons and tear gas.  They opened the gates to let some people in to get away from the police.  We stayed in there for a few minutes until they let us out.  We should have waited longer.

Even though the tear gas wasn't visible anymore it was lingering in the air.  And even though Jenna's apartment was less than a block away, a block full of tear gas is a painful one to pass through.  As we walked I could feel it stinging my eyes and we started coughing.  Just when we entered her building I caught a huge cloud of it in my face.  It was so painful I couldn't open my eyes.  The tears were streaming down my face and I felt sick to my stomach.  That stuff is no joke! 

We got back up to her apartment where a Chilean friend told us not to put water on it because it makes it worse.  I just pressed a dry towel against my face for about five minutes until the stinging subsided.  It was a painful experience but I was proud to be tear-gassed to save the Patagonian wilderness.  The hydroelectric dams will RUIN that area of the world without even providing that much energy.  The protests are going to continue.  The Chilean government should be scared.

Jami and me, post tear gas

Mendoza: Part II

Some of my readers (okay, that sounds completely pretentious) may remember that I had an eventful trip to Mendoza last year.  It was a free trip put on my the Chilean government and I spent more time at the border than in the actual city of Mendoza.  This time I was prepared for the worst.  I bought snacks, charged my iPod, brought a book, but this time the traveling went off without a hiccup.  We took an overnight bus, which left from Santiago around 11pm and arrived in Mendoza at about 5am with less than an hour at the border.  Everything was going perfectly.  Famous last words.

Arriving at 5am was a bit of a surprise.  All the experience I'd had and others had at the border pointed to a longer trip and we expected to arrive around 8 or 9am and then we were hopeful we could check into our room.  Turns out, you can't really do that at 5am without buying a bed for the night and that becomes tricky when the whole hostel is booked.  Luckily we were in South America, which means that things stay open all night so we went to try to find a club.  The clubs weren't letting anyone in so we found a cafe that sold liters of Argentine beer (Quilmes, my favorite) and sat outside in the cold trying to pass the time.  After some walking and exploring we decided to retire to the couches inside the hostel.  After less than two hours of sleep we went to exchange our money into Argentine pesos and get breakfast to alleviate the crankiness that was quickly building.  After some sandwiches and coffee we were rejuvenated and we arrived back to the hostel to find that we could check in.  I enjoyed one of the best hostel showers of my life there.

The hostel offered a wine tour on a bus for a mere 75 Argentine pesos (about $20 US) which included tastings at two different wineries, an olive press and a chocolateria.  The first winery was family owned and small.  They had quite a few varietals and gave us a nice tour.

Vineyards at Cecchin Family Winery

Tasting at Cecchin

From left: Emma (my coworker), Me and Jenna

Friends outside Cecchin.  From left: Jami, me, Jenna, Kortnee

I bought a bottle of Malbec there, which is a varietal in which Argentina specializes, and then sadly broke it on my way out of the hostel the next day.  It's alright, though, because my friend shared her Malbec rosé with me, which was something I'd never heard of before.

Vineyards at the larger winery

After Cecchin we went to a larger more industrial winery.  The tour there was quicker and they showed us their underground storage.  Frankly, I'm a bit of a veteran when it comes to wine country so the tours didn't peak my interest too much.  The tasting there had a bit more variety and we tried a couple varietals I had never heard of. 

Onward we went to the olive press.  Our tour guide was pretty weird and kind of spoke like a robot so I didn't get much out of the tour but the olive trees were lovely and the old equipment was cool to look at.  We had a tasting of oil, olives and tapenade that couldn't have come at a better time since no one had eaten since breakfast and we were all full of wine.

The spread at the olive press

Finally we hit up a chocolateria/licoria that I actually visited last year.  We tried a lot of chocolate, chocolate liqueurs, dulce de leche and smoked cheese.  I wanted to buy everything in site but on the meager salary of a teacher I could only afford the bottle of wine I'd bought earlier.  And that of course I later destroyed.

That night we had dinner at a parrilla, which is an Argentine restaurant that specializes in meat, meat and more meat.  Everyone ordered steak, because you just have to order steak in Argentina.  I split a steak with Emma and our meal also came with a bottle of Malbec and dessert.  Needless to say we were fat, happy and a little tipsy when we left the restaurant.  We passed the rest of the night sipping on some of the wine we had bought throughout the day and I and about half the group called it an early night so as not to be completely dead the next day.

Jenna and me outside our hostel

We checked out at 10 and had about three hours to kill before half of us left for Santiago.  The rest of the group was determined to squeeze every single drop of adventure out of the trip so they planned another overnight bus trip.  Having been to Mendoza once before I wasn't dismayed to leave a little early in hopes of getting a good night's sleep.

The bus trip home was almost uneventful.  About and hour before we hit the border one of our bus' tires blew out, rocking the bus and scaring the buh-jeezus out of me and my friend, Lindsey.  Our driver pulled over and the men on the bus promptly exited and got to work putting on a spare.  I couldn't help but note the difference in the attitude of the passengers in comparison to what I would imagine would be the attitude of the passengers in the same situation in the US.  No one was flipping out, no one was getting on their Blackberrys, no one was screaming at the driver.  Everyone sat patiently until we could safely drive to have it repaired and that fact alone made the experience so much more tolerable.  The energy in the air wasn't strained and irritated, everyone was calm and chilled out.  I love this country.

We pulled into the "mechanic" which was an empty field with a shack in it that appeared to be abandoned.  After a couple minutes we saw a young boy (maybe 13 years old) cruising over on an ATV.  He dismounted and promptly began to work on the bus.  No one seemed to be concerned about this so Lindsey and I hopped off the bus and played with a local stray puppy for a while.  After less than an hour we were all back on the bus and headed to the border.  Another uneventful border experience, three more hours on the bus and I was back home in smoggy Santiago with a couple more stamps on my passport and some more good memories under my belt.

Photo credits: Jami Herring

Article from Santiago Times

It's hard to believe poverty like this still exists in a world where some people spend $1,000 on a pair of shoes. 

Te quiero, Chile.  Superas esto.  Superas todo.

Nonstop violence and insecurity rule in a community overrun by drug-dealers 
 

Locals know La Legua as a drug-trafficking hub, riddled with violence and heavy with fear. Tucked into the borough of San Joaquín, just a half hour from downtown Santiago, La Legua's problems were unknown to most Chileans until a Catholic priest, Father Gerard Ouisse, made a desperate cry for help last week.

In a letter, Ouisse told the prosecutor's office that the people of La Legua live as though still under dictatorship, ruled by fear and insecurity. Many keep their kids out of school, too afraid for their safety to let them out of the house. 

"We live every day under intolerable violence," the letter reads. "We are powerless, forced to hide in our homes while drug-dealers own the streets and walk freely carrying guns. . . . It's common for parents to call their children from work to know if it's safe to come home or if they must wait for the shooting to end."

Authorities arrived in droves the next day. Sen. Soledad Alvear, along with the mayors of San Joaquín, Peñalolén and Puente Alto, visited Ouisse's parish in San Cayetano church. There, they heard first-hand accounts of residents witnessing shootings and hiding in fear. 

Afraid of retaliation, the residents of La Legua who spoke up begged media to withhold their names; they forbade photographs as well. Since word of his letter got out, Ouisse has been under police protection.

Rodrigo Ubilla, undersecretary for the interior, has been charged with developing a plan to "recover" La Legua. Ouisse has begged that the plan not be centered on violence. 

"Repression is not the solution," he told The Santiago Times in an interview. "What we need most of all is long-term social help based in education. We need to recover lost time, and help reintegrate criminals into society, so that La Legua won't be a ghetto any more."

Local politicians echoed Ouisse. 

"We need policies to look out for children whose parents are in prison," said Sen. Alvear. "We must proactively intervene to keep young people from committing crimes, instead of taking measures once the crimes are committed."

Manuel José Ossandón, mayor of Puente Alto - another southern Santiago borough with a reputation for violence - harshly criticized the way La Legua has been treated in the past, and said the current violence is the result of many years of bad social policies. 

"In Chile there is a hidden poverty," said Ossandón. "Many times is not monetary, but is more closely tied to culture, education, quality of life, human development, and the acceptance of violence. Year after year we make the same mistakes, and build new La Leguas all over the country."

Ouisse made sure to note that La Legua is also filled with people who volunteer to "work in solidarity" and help improve the community. "We have soup kitchens, drug rehabilitation and disability programs," he said.  

Ouisse emphasized La Legua's being "a community that wants to move forward, has fought and wants to keep fighting to restore its dignity."