GENERAL UPDATE

A brief-ish overview of the last stretch

It’s been awhile since the last post. I guess that’s the usual. You have a plan, then you get kinda busy, then you sorta just lose momentum. School started in January and I haven’t had as much free time. But still, there’s been plenty of free time. I guess I spend it mostly exercising, watching youtube videos, playing guitar, and hanging out with my host family these days. Anyways, time to get back on the train, all aboard, CHOO CHOO!!

Upon arrival in Pologua, a small town off the Pan-American highway in the Western Highlands of Guatemala, I can’t say I was exactly a smitten kitten right off the bat. My attention was drawn towards more negative aspects. The trash, the grey, the despondent look I felt many in town sported. The corn had just been harvested and the fields were left with dead brown stalks in them. It was cold and foggy most days. The cold surprised me, though at just over 9,000 ft above sea level I guess it shouldn’t have. At the beginning I slept with 5 blankets, a wool hat, sweatpants and socks.

While very welcoming, my new host family felt so different from the family I’d just left in Magdalena. Two grandparents with more traditional sensibilities. Little kids who were adorable, but more shy and standoffish than Coco and Mackenzie. I fought to keep myself in a positive headspace, and struggled with the amount of free time. The familiar lack of purpose that I’d grown accustomed to from previous years with long stretches on the road crept back in.

We arrived in site right at the end of the school year, so it would be 2.5 months till the next cycle got rolling. Now I’m a busy bee, and in retrospect, I wish I could have appreciated that free time more. During those initial months though I had many moments throughout the day where I just felt aimless, “what am I doing here?” I also felt like an alien, the only foreigner/gringo in town, getting lots of stares, and receiving plenty of skepticism. I missed having my PC friends around me.

This whole experience has been one big exercise in managing and existing in discomfort. First it’s getting to country, and dealing with the initial culture shock. Then it’s moving in with your PST host family, and navigating a new family unit. Then after a couple of months with your PST host family and an established routine, you feel comfortable, you feel in control, and then you get to site, and the cycle repeats all over again. The cycle repeated in Pologua as well. After dealing with the initial discomfort, then getting my bearings and feeling settled, I got tossed into school and felt that raging discomfort and insecurity return once more.

The fact is, humans are insanely adaptable creatures, but for the most part also highly averse to change. It’s a funny dichotomy. We can live almost anywhere, but we deeply fear the unknown, that which is far from our control.

Time.

Everything takes time. There’s no substitute for it, in relationships especially. You can try and fabricate a sense of intimacy, but there will never be anything more profound for a true connection than simply spending time together. In Pologua I wanted so badly to feel comfortable in my family, in the community here, with the teachers and students. Now, I feel like a member of the community, a real part of my host family, and an actual established person at school. At the beginning though, I judged myself harshly for feeling awkward, for thoughts that pervaded my days questioning my validity, and the value I could possibly be adding. Small talk felt forced, my language was never good enough in my opinion, and why wasn’t it improving faster?

It was so easy to tear myself down, and I’d had years of practice. I think I’m a bit of an expert in dismantling myself.

The way I’d describe the first months in site would be intense pendulum swings. The highs and lows felt exacerbated. On one hand I could have a 5 minute conversation with a stranger in town and feel on top of the world, “OH MY GOD! A new connection, holy shit! I did it, I spoke Spanish well, we connected, that was so sick!” and then later that day be overtaken by a dark mood, just wanting to be near a comforting face, speaking english, and tired of hearing a little kid cry at the dinner table.

That time was about learning how to self regulate, and to seek the middle path. I found out a lot about how I deal with stress and discomfort in those first couple months. The discomfort put me face to face with my vices, those internal Staples Easy Buttons that I slap to make myself feel better; things that I’ve used for distractions, self soothing, easy pleasures, and self validation for many years.

What is it I want to share at this point? I have lots of experiences in my journals I’m sure I could type up, you’d all read them and see what I’ve been up to. But I feel bored of typing up the same thing again and again. How has life been lately? Perhaps a bit stale at times. I find a way to repeat the same day in different shades. I have my highs and lows, my moments of ecstasy and boredom.

On a typical week I work in two different schools. On Monday and Tuesday I’m in Pitzal, a ten minute bus ride from my site, where more often than not they’re doing something other than school. A sports afternoon, or some other event isn’t uncommon, and thus I haven’t really taught too many classes there. The school in Pitzal is small, only 41 students, compared with the other I work at with over 300. The view overlooks a sprawling valley. You can see it through the chain link fence that encloses the concrete court where the students, typically just the boys for the most part, are playing soccer, and basketball too once in a while.

There’s four teachers there, including the principal, and a group of ladies that come everyday and are in charge of making the refa aka snack for the students. I love coming into the kitchen when I first arrive for the day and saying hi to the refa ladies. Pitzal was the first school I went to last November when I arrived, and thus I already knew some of the students. The 9 kids in Tercero Basico, the oldest grade, are really a joy to work with, and there’s one boy named Elias, mi Tukayo, who I’m quite fond of, and not just because we share a name, he’s really a great kid. (In Guatemala if you have the same name as someone they’re your ‘Tukayo’). I enjoy the smaller class sizes there and it’s definitely easier to manage compared to the Instituto in Pologua.

Content wise I give “life skills” classes, which cover a wide range. So far I’ve given classes on topics such as identity, non-verbal communication, goal setting, and even a few talks on mindfulness/the power of now. I’m also currently working with the students in Pologua on environmentally focused projects, trying to teach the phases of a project while letting them take the lead on the idea/planification/execution of it all. While the classes are certainly hit or miss depending on the group of kids, I have slowly but surely found a bit more of a groove.

Pologua draws students from across the surrounding area. I’m called Profe Elias, Profe English, Gringo, and Canche. Any of these will get my attention, though Gringo, although never malicious, always stings a bit. Students or ‘Remolachas’ as they’re also known as because of the beet colored uniforms they wear, say hello, and a few always come up to deliver the same English phrases, as if this time I’ll be more impressed by the string of three curse words they’ve uttered, a proud smile on their faces. The classes can be rowdier, especially a full Thursday morning session with 35 students and just me. But as time’s gone on I’ve gotten more comfortable, figuring out strategies to deal with the chaos.

The team of teachers in Pologua is much larger, with about 18 total, and we have the most badass principal, Elvia, a short woman with a fierce determination to educate and improve the circumstances for the youth. She’s the woman who originally founded the Instituto 28 years ago, and keeps the vision and dream alive. The teachers were warm and welcoming right off the bat, and I’ve become close with several of them, especially Seño Loida the sweetest little lady who teaches English, and often sends me a nice good morning text.

The indigenous language here is Kiche, and I began taking classes with the Kiche teacher at the Instituto, Seño Lesbia, a couple months ago. It’s slow going but fun picking up a new language, and really fun getting to try and impress my host mom with a phrase or two when we’re together in the kitchen, or using a bit of broken Kiche with the students at school, which more often than not is just a source of laughter for them. My favorite phrase thus far is “Kash nu wa’ran,” which means, “I’m tired.”

I’ve definitely been living out my School of Rock fantasy here, harnessing my inner Jack Black. I bring my guitar to school most days, and play songs in different classes. I mix in some Johnny Cash and Neil Young among the limited repertoire of Spanish songs I’ve developed. The Cure’s ‘Friday I’m in Love’ was the first song, which served as a means to teach days of the week in my first class that I taught as a substitute for Seño Loida. I even wrote an original song in Spanish that I performed in front of the school for their big anniversary pageant. It’s about the dogs here and how they love to chase me when I go for runs.

On top of that, I’ve picked up a new side quest, learning the trumpet to play in the school band. There was an extra one at school, and when they asked if I’d like to use it and be in the band I jumped at the opportunity. I love how different the trumpet is from the guitar, and the way my breath directly translates to making music. We’re rehearsing for our town fair in August, so stay tuned.

The first weeks in school I felt nervous and painfully self aware at the front of the class, and I wondered if this was how many of the teachers that I’d had growing up felt as well. God bless the teachers, this job certainly isn’t the easy route. Now the nerves have died down for the most part, but I can certainly still feel drained at the end of class.

Sometimes I try and reverse the roles, and imagine myself back in middle school, and how I’d have felt having a volunteer from Guatemala come to my school to teach me “life skills” as they fumbled about in somewhat broken English, and asked me to repeat my question again because they couldn’t understand what I’d said. In short, sometimes I feel like a bit of an idiot in front of these kids. My Spanish is very solid, but it’s not the same at all as teaching in English, where I feel I could pivot, create more nuanced points, and follow the flow a bit better.

While at times I feel like a dumb idiot, I also have learned a great deal about patience, expectations, and self love. When the school year began, I had such a harsh judgement of myself, and an unrealistically high expectation of how the classes should be. These kids need to be transformed every day! Now, instead of going into a frenzy if I’m not getting the response I want, I just do my part to prepare something I hope will be interesting, give it a good whirl, and acknowledge that the rest is out of my control. I want the kids to be engaged and to learn, but I can’t do it all for them. My mantras at the start were, “This is the worst you’ll ever be as a teacher” and, “you’re planting seeds.” They’ve both proven to be true thus far.

I started to ask myself, “what would I tell myself right now if I was my best friend?” I thought about great friends in my life, and how they would speak to me, or what I would tell them if they were going through the same thing. It felt silly, cringey, and weird when I first began that practice, but over time I’ve felt a slight shift. And that’s really the biggest takeaway from these past 6 months. Slight shifts.

My whole timeline, my perception of change, and what a success is, has shifted. The reality of non-linear and SLOW progression has sunk in a bit more. Boy can I still be a dick to myself, and I acknowledge that the discontentment in my life is self created 99% of the time, but I’ve been able to appreciate the little wins: the changes in my routine, the practices I’m developing, the positive habits, and the relationships here. I notice it in the way I walk around and the things I pay attention to. Pologua is a beautiful place to live, truly. Besides the trash of course, which will always bum me out. But now the fields are green, the milpa is returning, and the sun seems to sparkle over the stalks that sway in the afternoon breeze.

Growing is uncomfortable. I am learning once again that in order to evolve and change, I can’t resort to the same old comforts and cop outs that have gotten me through in the past, and I think my body and mind revolt against that. Just keep going for it. Keep taking a step, and maybe someday, who knows if it’s soon or not, the tree-line will be reached, and a new perspective with a new view will reveal itself. I feel subliminal shifts, and those are the greatest gifts. They’re minuscule and momentous, ineffable and palpable in their own ways. I still afflict myself with the same bullshit daily, and it pisses me off. But connecting the dots backwards, which is all we can do, I see a great story arc, and I look forward to the unraveling that’s to come.

There’s so much more I want to share with you all, like the fact that Guatemala is home to the most epic water park ever, and all the many other things I’ve been getting up to outside of school, but that will have to wait for next time, which I pinky promise will be a shorter wait than this last one. As always, if there’s any topic or anything specific about Guatemalan life or my life in Guatemala that you’re curious about and want to know more about, let me know. Sending lots of love to everyone!

Hasta pronto,

Profe Elias