Jewel, Teaching, and this American Life

I’ve taken to listening to pretty sappy music recently. Like, really sappy. Like, really bad sappy 90s classics. Topping the list has been Jewel’s Foolish Games. I didn’t even know I had it in my music library, but now that it’s been discovered, it’s climbing on the play count ranking (still has a ways to go before it tops my most played song, Shake It, by Metro Station). Celine has also risen to the top. I’ll omit reference to the select boy-band songs that have reentered my life. So I dug deep to see where this change in taste stems from. Well, not that deep. The answer is pretty superficial. I’m far away from friends and family and don’t have anyone to hug me here. And I kinda get that warm fuzzy feeling from sappy 90s songs. I’m meeting people and making friends (sort of, I’ve gone out drinking with co-workers), but how do you replace friends and family? You don’t, that’s how. You get used to it. Oh, and I’ll place partial blame for the music choices on the insomnia I’ve been suffering with as of late. Sleep deprivation make you do crazy things.

So here’s the call to action: Email me some new music! Just a few mp3 files will do the trick. Keep me hip. What’s on the radio these days? Or what do you think is an essential iTunes track. No reggaeton please.

I’ve been able to swipe some spotty wireless recently in house here in Jinotega, go figure. The following link is therefore brought to you by this recent development, your thoughts of “shouldn’t Daina be out practicing her Spanish,” and the letter F (for fierce): advancedstyle.blogspot.com (you’re welcome, trust me)

I taught my first class WITH a counterpart this week. Guess what? It went WAYYYYY better than the classes I gave on my own. DUH. My counterpart can give all of the cultural contexts and anecdotes that totally escape me. She also has the authority. They stay quiet for her. I’m just the silly gringa speaking broken Spanish. They compliment my outfit or earrings, ask me how to say a few things in English, and then pretty much disregard the rest. Also, the fact that I’m only a handful of years older than many of them doesn’t help. I have a 21 year old in my class of 3rd year students. Though he is probably my best student. There goes my argument out the window. I hope they learn to take this class seriously. Because it is new, less regimented, we build things out of straws, and do lots of riddles, many consider it a free period. I think if the teacher commits, they will follow suit, and it will be way easier to motivate her.
Speaking of encouraging and teaching youth, I just listened to an episode of This American Life that I found especially interesting. A brief summary of what was covered in the first act: among other things, what I want to focus on is that poor children in the United States hear something like 20 million less words in their first 3 years than middle to upper class children, and the majority of what they hear is discouraging diction. The amount of language, the pure quantity of words, that a child is exposed to in its first 3 years has a dramatic affect on its future success. I’ve heard about these studies elsewhere, but mostly in the context of standardized testing, and college acceptance, how certain kids are at a disadvantage. This podcast was about a man who was using it to break the cycle of poverty in Harlem through baby college (teaching parents in Harlem all the fancy baby things that parents in the suburbs know) and charter schools (teaching those babies when they’re no longer babies). His kids test at or above state levels. Go dude! (cant remember his name).
So here is another call to action, for myself, a goal I am setting for myself here: work with the casa materna, or casa de la mujer either getting the word out, or reading to kids. I toooooootally understand children’s books in Spanish. Maybe I’ll try to set something up with the Health volunteers here who do a lot of work with pregnant women. And hopefully, if something catches on, in 16 years or so the Peace Corps volunteers here in Nicaragua will have a MUCH easier time getting kids to pay attention in class, because during their formative years they got ahead of the game. And those volunteers will shower me with thanks, and I will nod and grin my 30-(or maybe 40)-something-year-old grin of wisdom, thinking back on my service and how insufferable the kids could be sometimes and say “no no, I just did what I thought was good at the time, you guys are the real difference makers” HAHA! I hope you’ve learned by now that I write most of these blogs in the weeeeeee hours of the night, and am prone to nonsensical outbursts. I encourage you all to track my mental state throughout the blog, and if you start to worry, please let me know, I don’t want to spiral. During training, the host sister of another PCV told us that everyone goes crazy after a few months in Nicaragua. I’ve taken heed of that warning. I do feel a tad schizophrenic here, considering I can have a full conversation in Spanish with one person, and then turn to my right and not understand a damn thing someone else is trying to say to me. Poco a poco.

some hippy nonsense

I believe that since I have sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer, I have full authority to go on a hippy rant about humanity, no? First I will be perfectly honest with what I have been doing during my free time here in Nicaragua, and unfortunately it is not studying Spanish. I’ve been watching TED talks podcasts that I downloaded in Managua and reading lots of books (in English). I’ll also note that this is influenced by the fact that I dropped my laptop and now The Darjeeling Limited is desperately trying, yet failing repeatedly to escape from my CD drive, so movie watching is out of the question for now (any tips on how i can fix this would be greatly appreciated). I feel both enlightened and informed and hopeful and joyful after reading Norman Doidge´s The Brain that Changes Itself (I wasn’t kidding in my book review, I’m already passing it along to as many of my fellow PCVs as possible, go read it now. And then give Elyse a hug because she recommended it to me, and because I was also very proud of her after reading her analysis of the book. She continues to be one of the most influential people in my life. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has things quite so together as my sister) because I am now certain beyond a doubt of the sheer awesomeness of people. Just people. Ordinary as can be, everyone has this brilliant force that, though untapped for the most part, can overcome and discover the most amazing things. And I don’t think we give each other enough credit. Or we give credit to something or someone bigger, better, higher, nebulous. But it’s there right in front of you. Or next to you. Or across the street. Wherever. I think maybe because I can’t necessarily understand everything people are saying to me, my other methods of reading people have become heightened. I have to look a little deeper to understand. I taught my little sisters and cousins here during my training a little yoga, and the good ol’ word namaste, which as difficult as it is to define in English, is even harder to explain in Spanish to a bunch of 10 year olds. But I tried, and I’m going to take some more authority to fully secularize namaste, so when you express that you are acknowledging and bowing to the light or life force or spirit in your fellow human, it is wholly human-made, hecho de mano. They created it. And the only reason there is hate and war is because we don’t realize the potential of each and every human, and we don’t take responsibility for our own actions. Blame and credit are too often externalized.
Oh, and did I mention that I LOVE where I am living, and am on kind of a giddy high from being very content. You might just have to ignore the nonsense above and chalk it up to a temporary mental collapse caused by an overdose of serotonin, or maybe the air is just thinner up here in the mountains. But why not go with it and list the reasons why Jinotega is special.
- It’s beautiful. In a valley. The backdrop to every vista is lush green mountains.
- There are countless second-hand clothing stores. I bought a shirt and a dress the other day for C$ 30 (that’s $1.50 USD)
- There’s real coffee
- The people are beautiful
- It’s fresco (“chilly” one might say)
- Strawberries grow up here (though I haven’t seen them being sold anywhere, I’m not sure when they are in season)
- There is a pretty well frequented karaoke bar
- There is a 24 hour convenience store
I also think I’m managing to win over the skeptics at my places of work. It’s really very difficult to show people you are competent and enthusiastic when you only have an intermediate level of Spanish. I was relatively convinced one of my counterpart teachers hated the idea of working with me, and she very well may have felt that way, but after our first planning session, I managed to put together a few questions asking about her family and work experience, and promising that when I can speak more Spanish I will speak more Spanish. At which point she extended on open invitation to visit her house for dinner. So I guess that worked. Hopefully I can win the students over too. Hopefully the novelty of having an American in the classroom will buy me some time to win them over.
I considered several times while writing this post just deleting the whole thing and waiting til I was in a more focused state of mind to write something coherent and perhaps less offensive, but for those of my dear friends and family willing to sift through the word vomit, I applaud your patience…or boredom…or procrastination from whatever else you should be doing right now.

ventilation

Overwhelming might be an understatement in describing my transition into nicaraguan life. Every day, all of my senses, all of my strength, all of my knowledge and all of my values are tested.
What I’m dealing with right now is an incredible sense of smallness and frustration. I’ve struggled with a less than enthusiastic language facilitator for the past two weeks, and feel like my group will be playing catch-up until the end of training,. I have a knot of anxiety in my chest almost always.
As we attend charla (technical training sessions) after charla, they make it more and more obvious that as a small business volunteer, we are not only trying to impart business skills to various community groups, we are trying to break people of, or at least challenge their belief in long held cultural norms and habits, impossible much?
For example, and these all of course are generalizations, Nicaraguans are innately averse to taking risks. Much of this is practical. People need to put food on the table, they do not have the luxury to risk a job or livelihood to pursue personal ambitions.
Nicaraguans have a strong culture of “copy and paste.” If one person opens a successful store, or starts producing an innovative product, it wont be long until their neighbor starts in the same exact endeavor. No one wins. No innovation is to be found. Related to aversion to risk, people stick with what they see. And their aren’t really enforceable copyright laws.
Nicaraguans are terrified to be wrong. Giving a wrong answer in class, or a slip of the tongue will likely result in teasing and taunting, by children and adults alike.
The most important aspect of Nicaraguan life is the family. Nice right? Except for when people are hindered from personal pursuits or hiring qualified people because family ties prohibit them.
Nicaraguan have no culture of savings or investment. Any extra income is spent on what I might classify as frivolous materialism.
Nicaraguans have a history of corrupt and tyrannical rulers. Will their hard work be protected?
How in the world can we teach entrepreneurship when their way of life is diametrically opposed? I ask myself that quite a bit. But…those are the doubts I have, because I don’t want to be jaded and have unrealistic goals, and I don’t want to feel like my way is always right.
At the same time that I’m wondering if it’s even possible, I am extraordinarily excited to dive into the projects they have been describing to us. Secondary education. Business plan competitions. Youth groups. Community banks. NGO work. Gosh, what more could a girl want? And I think it’s important. And I think that people can change. And I think that people are good. And Nicaraguans especially are so welcoming and giving and willing to help. And I’m having so much fun with my new family and friends here. And I’m scared that the next two years are just going to fly by too fast.
I must say, as of yet I don’t feel like I’m part of it. I don’t know a lot of people. I’m bad at small talk in general, in another language I find it nearly impossible. I still feel like a guest. It still alludes me. I smile, say adios to people in the street, take the public transportation. I live and play and work with my Nica family. I certainly feel more comfortable here than I did on day 1. And I think that training just amplifies stress because 2 years of service are spoken about like they will all happen tomorrow….that is a gradual process never really factors in to our charlas. Maybe the training schedule doesn’t leave much time or brain capacity to get it.
Have I regretted the decision I made to come here? Not once. Not even a little. I love that I’m learning and doing and busy and constantly saying to myself “am I really here??” It certainly is a bizarre, trippy, and wonderful experience thus far.