They come in droves, they come in waves

Peace Corps has changed the nature of my relationship with children, at school and at home. I'm still quick to say that I love kids, but now, after ten months of dealing with kids, albeit from a different culture, I've changed my tune slightly. Now, I'm not afraid to get terse with some kids. Or straight up yell.

I work in the schools, so I deal with kids every day in the supposed teacher-student, "expect respect" relationship. However, I have come into an educational system where insulting kids (or at least labeling them) in school is more common than where I'm from. (Remember Teacher Meany Pants from an earlier post?) Also, slowly but surely, the culture of blaming the parents and the students has seeped into me, and although the lack of initiative is a collective issue, it's hard not to think, "These darn kids just don't care anything about school." So the respect from teachers to students is often absent. So, sadly, it has changed the way I interact with kids. For example, when I see kids from the middle school walking around the elementary school, I ask, "Hey you, troublemaker! What are you doing here? Did you get suspended? If not, shouldn't you be in class?" The sad truth is that in too many cases, the students respond saying the teacher sent them to do an errand or that their class is not in session. What does this all lead to? My mistrust of most children. That's not good. I always thought to assume their innocence, but that has now changed.

So of course, get respect, give respect. The opposite, students respect teachers, doesn't always happen either. I can't assume they're all bad kids, and sometimes they don't even know they're up to no good. Or that what they're doing is widely considered disrespectful. It's a cultural thing, you know? As soon as I got here, I came face to face with snotty children in school. See, back in my day, a snide, rhetorical question like, "Is the teacher's desk really where you're supposed to sit?" got a kid to get up, move, sit down, behave, whatever. Here, it seems like an invitation to respond similarly, i.e. "Yes..." (tongue out or heavy sarcasm implied) Teachers have no qualms about taking class time for meetings, teacher parties, idle chit-chat, whatever. And if the teachers don't respect class time, why should the students? However, I leave that issue for another day.



Outside school, it's a bit different. They like to think you're their friend, just another member of the community. What they don't know is that I'm not Panamanian, and that what they do can really annoy me. Let me give an example of a regular day in which I can touch on several points.

Today several waves of kids stopped by the house. Wave One was a pair of boys. They came to talk and play with the cat. No big deal. They're good kids, so it was fine. They asked over and over again if I had peanut butter to give them.

Point 1: They never forget anything. ANYTHING.
To review quickly, I went out and gave Oreo cookies with a dab of peanut butter for my birthday. I wanted to share a tasty treat with the kids. Since that day (April 10th), I've gotten kids asking me, "Y las galletas?" And the cookies? In that exact way. Not at all specific. Not "Do you have more cookies?" or "Wow, I really liked those cookies." or "What kind of cookies were those?" (The phrasing of their inquiry irks me, if you can't already tell.) Same thing with the goodie bags from Halloween. Now every kid, whether they came to my house and got a bag or not, is asking me if tomorrow is Halloween again or if I have more bags. How am I supposed to answer that question in a way that shuts down the conversation? NO I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE BAGS! You think that'd work, but they still ask over and over.

Then the kids poked their head in the house when the cat went inside. They played with the cat in a way that annoyed me, yanking his arms and holding him up on two legs, pulling his tail, etc. Then, they saw the bicycle and immediately went inside to touch it.

Point 2: If you're not careful, they will invade your house.
And they touch everything. They ask you what you were doing on your computer or what you were reading (or "studying") on your Kindle or what you were listening to on your iPod. Then they'll ask you how much it cost you. In this case, it was the bicycle. It's a difficult situation, because if I divulge too much information about how much money I make (however little it may be), I may give the impression that I'm rich...which I'm really not. Then you get kids, or worse, parents, asking you for money for a soda or cookies, or bigger things. Luckily, that hasn't really happened too often. But I digress. The point is that the kids come in and touch things. They don't understand that my house is my sanctuary.

The culture here is such that anybody can walk up to a house in the neighborhood unannounced and just come inside. And if you stay at a house long enough, they eventually give you food and drink. Really great, right? Until they flip the script on you. Now I have a house and all the little kids expect me to give them something. I don't make a huge pot of rice and beans for everyone, so I don't just have food to offer. The little food I have in the house is for me. I mean, I paid for it, right? It sounds selfish, but I really only make enough food for myself. Sometimes I give a tiny bit of something, but from there, it only gets worse.

Point 3: The "If you give a mouse a cookie" Scenario
So finally after the kids got under my skin (or into my heart, depending on how you look at), I finally gave some peanut butter. I had them go buy cookies to spread the peanut butter--made 'em work a bit for it. They came back with cookies, and I gave them as little peanut butter as I could manage. (Heck, the 18oz. jar is almost $4.) I gave a bit of peanut butter, but then when they finished, they licked their lips and the roof of their mouths. Then they asked for water. I went to get water, and then they came inside while they poured. At that point it was too late to shoo them out of the house.

I kept having to say no to everything. No, I can't play the video I played for you that one time. Why? Because then you'll want to watch a thousand other videos just like it. No, I won't download Call of Duty and play with you. Why? Because you'll come over every day and want to play. On my computer. MY. COMPUTER. No, you can't borrow the bicycle. Why? Because then you'll be seen riding it and then every kid in town will ask if they can ride it too. Everything I do has the potential to fall down a slippery slope.

And it kind of did. I had a pack of kids, Wave 3, come asking for water and peanut butter.

Point 3: They are entitled little blabbermouths.
As soon as you give to one, it's like you have to give to everyone. Wave 3 had come from playing in the dirt and their hands and feet were filthy. What did they want? Water to drink. No, I said. Can they at least have water to wash their feet and hands? Fine. Go around to the back. One kid tried to go to the back porch by walking through the house. Hey, I said. Go around back from outside. (SEE Point 2) One or two had especially dirty feet. So they put out their hands and I poured water from my homemade totuma to help them get clean. First question: why weren't they doing this at home? I made the mistake of opening my door, meaning they could ask for something the way they ask anyone else. As soon as the two were done, the rest immediately put out their hands. Even clean hands extended, simply for my attention. I was like Jesus pouring water on disciples' hands and feet. They just wanted water poured by my hand, it seemed. Then they started asking about peanut butter and water. Kids from Wave 1 had told them about the food I had told them to keep secret. I wanted to avoid that exact situation.

Point 4: They don't listen until you raise your voice.
I skipped Wave 2. Wave 2 was a pair of boys. One of them is an 8th grader, whom I'm certain has a crush on his English teacher. How does he express it? By constantly bringing her up to me? Teacher Nicholas, why don't you go out with Teacher Four-Foot-Nothing? Teacher Nicholas, if you and Teacher Four-Foot-Nothing had kids, they'd be so short. And so light-skinned. So should I tell her you said you love her? She told me to tell you she misses you. Probably all lies. It just fits into the category of bugging me about my personal life. They ask me about my romantic life. This same kid has asked me how many times I've had sex. Of course, I didn't answer. I tried to be an adult about it.
On top of that, they were playing rough with the cat. Then they started doing the same thing the other kids did, asking for food. But they went further, poking their heads in, wimpering like dogs, saying, Please. At the time, I was making a peanut butter sandwich. I eventually got fed up, closed the door, and ate. The kids didn't leave. They went to the window facing the table where I eat and proceeded to wimper more, beg, and stick their hands through the window cracks. I told them over and over to stop it, that I'm not in charge of feeding them, that they need to leave. They didn't leave. Only when I stood up, screamed in English expletives, and slapped the window did they finally leave, running away...just like stray dogs that come here begging. They weren't willing to respect me until I made it crystal clear.

This often happens, too. Not the yelling, but the kids not getting the picture. Not picking up on the subtleties of my actions, my body language, my shoulders hunched and my butthole clenched, all screaming, "Leave me alone! Go away!"


What else can I do but put up with it? I try to teach the kids better manners, try to slip in little lessons about behavior whenever I can. If not from me, then from whom? I handle it all because there are those moments when the kids make you smile. When they say somethiing hilarious or profound or awe-inspiring. I long for that. It sustains me. Most of the time, though, I have to tell them that farts aren't really that funny.

Fiestas Patrias

One of the greatest aspects of Panamanian culture--which is simultaneously its biggest downfall--is the ability to celebrate for any reason, and to make a big deal out of anything and everything. Panamanian Independence from Colombia (November 3rd) is a momentous occasion for the country, yes, but the celebration doesn't last one day. They also celebrate minor holidays like Flag Day and Veterans' Day and National Anthem Day, and sort of group them all together, since they fall so close to one another. The country prepares by having the kids learn marching in a band consisting of various drums and xylophones in the shape of harps called liras. This takes time out of the school day for months before, and then on the special days, class is either preempted for band practice and decoration or cancelled. It was fun for me when I was able to separate from my mind how much class time we lost to idle preparation (three teachers preparing, the dozens of kids in the band practicing, and the rest of the school doing absolutely nothing).

Elementary school boys in their uniforms (like train conductors, right?) ready to march in the town for November 3rd.

To begin the celebration, they have a typical acto cívico, but with a more patriotic flare, including a history lesson, and of course, the singing of the Panamanian national anthem.

4th grade girls sing tamborito style, voice accompanied by one drum, about their "clásica polleras."

Leading the march through town is the flag, of course.

Queen Liz (from the School Anniversary back in May) dressed in a lovely pollera.

Little girls (again with the makeup thing...) dancing to the beat of the drums behind them in the procession. Perhaps I shouldn't use the term "to the beat" so flippantly. They occasionally walked in rhythm to the music.

The little guy is in Kindergarten. He was smacking that drum. He kept dropping his sticks. It was so cute.

The order was flag, banners, special people like the Queen, dancing girls, the drums and liras, students, then teachers.

My cute little next-door neighbor in another kind of pollera, less expensive, part of the ropa típica series.

A little boy who won an award for having the highest GPA in elementary school dressed in ropa típica. Looking good. And look at that serious face.

The next day, they had another march, but that time, more schools from the area showed up to participate. Then after the march, these ranchos opened up and sold fruits and vegetables for their respective communities.

One thing I really don't like about these marches: they go on FOREVER, and by the end, the kids are exhausted. Look at them, drenched, red as those jackets.

November 9th was the Grito de Santiago, a similar parade celebrating pride for the province of Veraguas. This one lasted LITERALLY all day. It started at 10am and had groups marching until 1am. It was fun to spend that day with Peace Corps volunteers, because restaurants stayed open late, and since we weren't Panamanian (meaning we weren't ENTRANCED by people walking down the street for 15 hours), we had no qualms with leaving and coming back later. The parade did get progressively more interesting. The day was time dedicated to schools in the province. The later groups were visitors from other provinces, groups that had a fuller band, a better sound, likable music, and even some good dancing!

¡Feliz día de Halloween!

Halloween is not much of a thing here. In fact the only knowledge of it is the worst kind. People in Panama City celebrate it more or less the way we do, but what appears on the news (and what arrives to the middle of nowhere) are the few incidents of people causing trouble in a cemetery or young men asking an old lady for candy, then robbing and killing the poor old woman. So unfortunately, it seems Halloween is associated with devil worship and all other superstitions, and general violence and tomfoolery. Sadly, I didn't get any support in doing an activity at school, or even so much as a short English lesson about Halloween.

However, I had a bit of fun at home. I had my Mom send me candy and other Halloween things (spider rings, pencils, etc.), which I used to make Halloween goodie bags. Then I announced to all my Elementary school kids that I would be having a little "cultural exchange" at my house, where I'd teach about trick-or-treating and pass out candy. The educational aspect sort of fell by the wayside, but it was a success nonetheless!

The decorations are a bit lackluster, but I think it was just enough to let people know that it was no ordinary day.

The kids enjoyed the goodie bags, although it led to a lesson in proper disposal of garbage. They LOVED the Batman mask I bought as part of a Halloween costume. They all wanted to try it on and run around as Batman.

The same kids who are often too shy to even attempt to answer questions in class are yelling for me to take picture after picture in endless silly poses. And I was more than willing to oblige.

Included in the goodie bags were temporary tattoos, with phrases like, Gimme candy!, Boo!, and Trick or treat! There were a bunch of other typical Halloween images, which the kids most likely had to explain to their superstitious parents. "What are you doing with a tattoo of a ghost? You know that's sacreligious..."

Notice the door is closed. No kids allowed in the sanctuary. However, the porch was a funhouse for a few hours. Everyone really enjoyed their "HopiHalouin!"

"Say Hello to my little friend!"

Last week I finally broke down and got a pet. I've been so bored while at home all by myself. So I got one from a neighbor down the street whose cat had just given birth to kittens. I'm guessing he's still about two or three months old.

His name is Maní, which is Spanish for peanut. AWWWWWWWWW!

I put a little sort of collar on him to be patriotic (one of the Panamanian Independence Days is November 3rd), but it slipped off his neck. Too bad.

He does a lot of chilling anywhere and everywhere: on the couch, on the chairs on the porch, on my lap, on top of the computer while I'm trying to do something...

This is been a huge boost in the home life department, especially since I haven't heard those mice since I got him! Companionship? No more pesky mice? Double win!

The Library Renovation Project

In the time I've been in Panama, I have spent an inordinate amount of time wishing I could make a difference, leave some sort of legacy, a noticeable impact, etc. Unfortunately, the nature of teaching makes results and effectiveness of teacers difficult to gauge. Many teachers I've talked to have said flat out that the fruits of our labor in the school will not be apparent for many years. It's all quite understandable. However, as a hard-working, goal-oriented person, it's a bit disheartening to hear that all my hard work will seem to amount to nothing in the two years I'm here. However, that might have just changed.

Recently, I've been talking with neighbors and community members. They, as usual, are discouraged that I haven't started community English classes. This pair of women phrased it better than most, citing the community's lack of initiative in setting up classes or collaborating with me. They said that I've been here for 9 months and they've yet to take advantage. "But Nick, why don't you just start the classes yourself?" Good question. Well, it's difficult to get projects done alone, especially when you're in a foreign county and culture, living in a close-knit community. If I start classes without real interest already built up in the community, it wouldn't be sustainable. They'd come one week, get bored, and stop coming. So they need to meet me half-way in anything I do here.

The conversations (by my probing) transitioned to the community library, a space used in the past for classes in literacy and other useful skills. It actually has some books, which is huge. The place used to have computers and electricity. The problem is that since no one was willing to work there for free, no one managed the space. The light bill went without paying, and so the lights eventually got cut off. Kids would take books without asking, and never returned them. You can imagine the rest of the story. Of course, I was drooling at the potential of the place and community members got excited about a new catalyst in the form of a Peace Corps volunteer.

Step 1 was getting the key. It turned out to be a wild goose chase. One person said they gave the key to Fulano (So-and-so), who then gave it to someone else to use this day. I went to no less than 5 different people, but I tracked it down. I now hold on to that key with my life. If I didn't, who knows what could happen?

The next step is cleaning up the place. It's not too bad, but there are bats hiding all in the roof and behind the circuit breakers (or whatever they're called). So that'll take some doing. I started by my lonesome, but some kids have helped on occasion. A few ladies have come as well to help.

After that I want to form a library committee to make the project more formal. That has proven unusually difficult. Ladies are willing to sign my little declaration, but we've set up meetings to get more involved. Two meetings and abysmal attendance have me down, but it's the culture. People say they'll come to your meeting. "Of course," they reply. And then they don't show up...

I'd like to:
-repaint the walls
-possibly redo the floor
-stock the place with new books, encyclopedias, children's stories in Spanish and English
-get new tables, chairs, a whiteboard (and possibly, possibly high-tech items like a copy machine, projector, etc.)
-start my English class by the new school year, end of February into March
-get an Infoplaza (internet cafe, more or less) in the space

We'll see how it goes. I'm gonna need a lot of help.

This doesn't look as bad from a distance. Perhaps I should have taken close-ups of the dust and gunk everywhere. Aside from that, it's a great space. And it actually has books, some of which are worth keeping!

This is the other side of the space, which I'd like to convert into an internet cafe. It's supposedly a "streamlined" process, seeing as how there's money in the federal budget to build these Infoplazas all across the country. As soon as we can write a letter to our representative, we'll have to wait. But even before that, we need to get a committee together.

Also, you'll notice chéchere in the corner. This is one of my favorite new words: it's a technical term for junk. People use it all the time.

Aside from the standard cleaning, we have to combat critters like bats in the ceiling and wasps' nests in all the windows. Bright side: we have windows with screens.

The possibilities are endless, and with the support from my community, this could be that one thing I've been searching for in my service, that brass ring.