Paso a paso

By Katherine Ferry

This week Ziquítaro became more like its former self as we knew it; as the priest promised us, the after the dance (the culmination of days of celebrating) the carnival rides and vendors vanished from the plaza and many visiting family members left to resume their lives in the United States.  By 9:00 PM the plaza is nearly silent, with only a few people taking the traditional stroll, in stark contrast to the days before when it was clogged with re-united families and the music until 1 AM.

The end of all the excitement meant that Rachel and I have resumed our classes in the schools and the church.  One of our main goals this semester is to encourage more parent involvement and to have more communication with our students’ families.  Rachel held parent meetings on Tuesday wish great success.  I decided to start the semester by holding individual meetings with the parents of a handful of students at the Telesecundaria who were severely disrupting the classes last semester.  To expedite the scheduling of these meetings, I made it clear to the two teachers that these students would not be allowed to enter my class until there had been a conference with the student, teacher, parent, and myself.  Put another way, the teachers – who usually take a break during English class - would now be responsible for supervising these students during the class period.

I am thrilled to report that I was able to hold one parent meeting and it felt very productive.  Unfortunately, it was just one because one of the students I want to meet with is already suspended, and the teacher of the others informed me that he wants his difficult students expelled and refused to pursue any other solution.  This coupled with the fact that the director suddenly announced he would be absent for part of the week (which also resulted in his failure to appear for a meeting we had scheduled with a group of community leaders) and that the school apparently keeps no list of contact information of the students’ parents, makes meetings tough to arrange.  Fortunately I’m not one to give up and will do whatever is necessary to make these meetings happen. 

In the meeting with my second-year student, I spoke with both his father and teacher first.  I talked to the father about his son’s poor academic performance and behavior.  His regular teacher complained of similar difficulties with the boy.  The father was very cooperative and acknowledged that his son did not study much.  After that we invited the student in and expressed our concerns.  I had him write a contract stating how he would behave in English class and some measures to take to improve his grades, including a set time each day for homework.  (His dad agreed to help assure that he did this.)  We all signed the paper and said goodbye on a pleasant note. 

The next day, my student came to class with his homework completed.  He even did it more accurately than most of his classmates!  He was more enthusiastic and didn’t protest when I asked him to practice speaking.  I made sure to go a little overboard on praising him – and I could see appreciated it.  After class his regular teacher came up to me and said he was very proud of the boy’s performance for the day as well.  While it’s a small step, I definitely feel we made progress.

The philosophy of not giving up on a student, which is undoubtedly very optimistic given the educational environment in rural Mexico, is a requirement of being a teacher.  My meeting with my student shows that change can come if new measures are taken.  Despite the excuses and laziness which are currently preventing me from holding more of these meetings, I intend to make them possible and give the students a similar chance at redeeming themselves.  

Blog Entry Week 1: “Welcome Back, Gueras!!”

By Rachel Wickland

Coming back to Ziquitaro was like coming back to an entirely different place.  Everything about our little town, the sights, the sounds, the smells, and the atmosphere transformed a dusty, slow-paced speck on the map to a lively, colorful, exciting town, throbbing with energy.  We found ourselves in the midst of festivals and celebrations, tamales and bunuelos, carnival rides and fireworks, and most of all, a renewed energy and vigor that we had otherwise not experienced. The whole of Ziquitaro was engulfed in celebration when we arrived on the 8^th of January, two days after the Dia de los Reyes Magos, and leading up to the town’s biggest celebration on January 12^th.  (They celebrate a month later on January 12^th instead of the more traditional December 12^th for the Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe)

            Not an hour after putting our overweight suitcases in our rooms, we headed off to mass, the most heavily attended mass I had been to until that point.  It was great to see so many familiar faces.  I told Katherine I had made out a list of all of my favorite people that I couldn’t wait to see, and I was thrilled to have seen them all the very first night we arrived.  I saw Mago, the mother of one of my students, who makes the best enchiladas in Ziquitaro, and our number one cheerleader in the constant uphill battle we face with the teachers at the Junior High.  I saw Pina, our Mexican Mom, who constantly fills the air with her infectious laughter and works tirelessly caring for those around her.  I saw one of Katherine’s students, Juan de Dios as we call him, who never ceases to crack me up with his exclamations in English, my favorite being, “Hey you lady! Let’s go to the house!” I saw the Priest, our number one man to go to if we ever need advice or just want to have some pancakes and watch novellas together.  And I saw Alejo, the young man that I have been striving to assist with continuing his education in the United States, who was overwhelmed with emotion as I showed him a church bulletin from my church in California where we have his name printed on our prayer list.  It warmed my heart to receive so many big hugs, and smiles from all our loved ones here in Ziquitaro.  It was a great joy to feel so welcome to our home in Ziqui, especially after only spending a short time with my family back in California, and still feeling the pang of sadness in having to leave them so soon.

            In the next couple of days we continued to see the town transformed into a place I hardly recognized.  As bands played all day long – constantly interrupted by the crack of fireworks - I began to notice another change: everywhere we went we started to hear little snippets of English being spoken.  One of the reasons for the great surge in population was that many families had come back to visit their hometown from the United States.  What a fantastic example of how closely the people of Ziquitaro are tied to life in the United States, and how we are constantly diminishing the distance between our two countries as our cultures, people, politics, and economies intertwine.  But I digress. The 12^th and 13^th of January were nearly upon us, the two most important days of our celebrations in Ziqui.  On the 12^th, our little, seemingly insignificant town was to be graced by the presence of the Bishop from Zamora, and on the 13^th we awaited the excitement of the Jarripeo (rodeo) and the much anticipated concert to be put on by Tierra Cali, a very famous Mexican Banda group.

            Katherine and I felt extremely honored when the Priest requested if we could please set the table that would be used for a luncheon with the Bishop and several other local Fathers.  However small the task, we were very happy to be involved in such a momentous occasion.  We also got to help the priest plan the menu for the luncheon, and I wrote out a recipe he wanted for Chicken Cordon Bleu, which happens to be one of my specialties.  On the day of the 12^th, Katherine and I were aware of the sense of heightened importance to the day.  After changing our outfits for mass from the usual jeans and a nice shirt to skirts and sweaters, we were awed when even after arriving ten minutes early, there was still no sitting room in the sanctuary.  We stood at the back of the church, craning our necks to see the distant altar.  Our most unexpected surprise was in the midst of mass, when Teresa, a woman who cooks for the Priest and has become a friend of ours, motioned to us to come over to where offerings and the communion chalice and host were displayed.  A little uncertain, Katherine and I timidly walked over, and Teresa instructed us to take up the communion articles and lead the procession down the center aisle of the church, to bring the offerings to the Bishop, seated on the altar.  I cannot even explain the surprise, nervousness, and excitement that was racing through my mind.  In my head I was screaming, “But I’m not even Catholic!!” We had no idea what we were supposed to do, I with the chalice and Katherine with the host.  As we ascended the altar, the Priest must have noted our uncertainty as he smoothly walked up to us and instructed us to give the items to the Bishop to bless, and then place them on the altar.  Once again, the Priest was there just when we needed him the most.  I was so honored to be involved in such an amazing event, and even more honored to have the blessing of the Bishop.  The luncheon went seamlessly and I was so proud that my table setting looked so beautiful with my napkins folded nicely (Thanks, Girl Scouts!), and the Chicken Cordon Bleu cooked perfectly. 

            The following day, Katherine and I prepped for the Jarripeo (like a rodeo in the US) and looked very authentic with our cowboy boots and braids.  To the best of my knowledge, all but one of the bull riders left the arena unscathed.  The concert by Tierra Cali later in the evening was a real treat.  Katherine ad I didn’t go in because the tickets were so expensive, but from what we could see peeking over the fence with Mago, it was a full-fledged party.  There were pyrotechnics, lights, big screens showing the artists up close, and a GIANT stage.  What struck me the most, however, was the fact that the emcee would ask questions like, “How many of you pretty girls have boyfriends in the US?” and announce songs saying, “This is for all the guys who are working in the United States!” Again, I was incredibly aware of how intimately our two countries are intertwined. Even yesterday, Katherine and I attended a mass and luncheon to send off the immigrants who had come back to visit their hometown, and bless their journey back to the US.  These, and so many more scenes that I cannot recount for the sake of brevity were a fantastic start to our upcoming semester.

            Our time here so far, however, has not been without incident.  In an endeavor to get the ball rolling on our classes, Katherine and I walked over to the Secundaria the day after we arrived to meet with the teachers and let them know that we were prepared to begin English classes.  Much to our chagrin, the teachers had already left for the day, even though we arrived fifteen minutes until two o’clock, the time that school is supposed to be over. Because it was a Friday, this meant that we would not be able to meet with them until the following Monday.  Thankfully, the Primaria was still open, so our purpose was not completely lost.  Our sense of another semester of impending hardship with the Secundaria increased when we were later informed that classes would not resume until the 19^th of January.  This news came on the heels of our last meeting with the teachers, as they stated with conviction that the classes would resume on schedule on the 7^th of January, notwithstanding the commotion of the festivals.  Needless to say, Katherine and I were infuriated that the teachers saw fit to take an entire extra week of vacation for a festival in a town where they do not live, much less participate.  Not to mention that Katherine and I could have spent another week at home enjoying the company of our families if we had not planned to begin classes around the word of the teachers at the Secundaria.  In a way, it was the characteristic “welcome back” from the teachers and administration of the Secundaria. 

            Never one to let a little bump in the road throw me off course, I am still determined as ever, and enthusiastic as ever to begin classes.  We have had the greatest experience being back in Ziquitaro so far, and I hope to maintain the sense of energy and exuberance that we have received in our first week here.  And whether it be the fantastic welcome we have had from the community, aglow with the light of a new year, or the disappointing and character-revealing welcome we received in the absence of the teachers at the Secundaria, the message rings clear: Welcome Back Gueras!

            

The New Semester Begins

Today both Rachel Wickland and Katherine Ferry are returning to Mexico in order to commence another semester of English classes. We have made a few slight changes to both the class schedule and the administration in order to assure a smooth semester of classes. Michel and I, the volunteers and the community members in Ziquítaro are all ecstatic about the next stage of the project. Keep posted for more blog entries from the volunteers as well as updates from Michel and me regarding the 501 (c) 3 status. 

Auld Lang Syne: Days Gone By

By Rachel Wickland

            The days leading up to our departure in Ziquítaro were probably some of the most difficult times I have encountered in my days of teaching. I experienced quite the emotional roller coaster in the time between the Secundaria’s final test and final project presentations.  All of my students did exceedingly well on our final test. Many of my students were failing my class, and the week before I had advised many of them in private conferences that they had to achieve a C or higher on their test.  Much to my amazement not a single person in either of my classes got below a C. I could not have been more proud.

            However, my pride got knocked down pretty quickly as we reached the day of our final presentations.  In one class, half of my students did not even complete the project.  We had been working collectively on these projects for almost the entire semester, doing regular progress checks, and taking time out of class to work on them.  Seeing as the project accounts for 10% of the student’s final grade, I had expected much more from both groups.  To further my disappointment, one of my best students copied a project that had been previously made by the school secretary.  This sort of blatant disregard for any sort of classroom rules, not only by a student but the administration as well, was a great blow for me.

            On the other hand, there was great joy for me in our bittersweet last days in Ziquítaro.  (I say bittersweet because I was sad to be ending the semester, but very happy to return home to see my family, and look forward to the new semester.) In Ziquítaro, the last weeks of December are filled with posadas celebrating the Christmas season. I felt very privileged to participate in this wonderful tradition and to do my part in decorating, eating, and celebrating.  Speaking of celebrating, one of the biggest things to hit Ziquítaro in ages took place while Katherine and I were ending our classes.  For lack of a better description, we witnessed the wedding of a century. This was not your average wedding.  The entire town was in attendance.  In fact, at the reception we had to give up our seats after we were done eating so that the next group of guests could sit down for a meal.  The real treat for Katherine and I was the dance that was held that night as the climax of the celebration.  Complete with giant bandstand, live music, concessions, and a huge crowd, anyone could have easily mistaken the “dance,” as everyone called it, for a regular county fair! It did Katherine and I a world of good to relax and walk around the plaza, enjoying the vibrancy of the place we live.

            My heart was ever so deeply touched the day Katherine and I departed. Unfortunately, I became extremely ill the day before we left.  According to Pina, the woman we live with, it was due to too many condiments at the wedding. (I’m still skeptical.) This was the first real time I had fallen ill in Ziquítaro, and I will never forget the love and care that was put in to reviving me. Pina, who I now consider as close as my own family, tirelessly labored in nursing me back to health.  At first glance, this would seem like an easy feat. However, Pina also cares for her ailing mother, bedridden husband, and two daughters.  Katherine and I think she may be secretly super-human. Without a second thought, Pina was brining tubs of hot water up the stairs, bathing me in hot alcohol to take away my fever, making sure I was wrapped in warm blankets, cooking soup for me, brining me warm tea, nothing less than doing everything my own mother would have done for me. I was touched, and the next day, I felt good as new. When it came time to say goodbye to Pina, she helped me drag my suitcase along the dirt road, and said a quick goodbye.  Now for Pina, a woman famed in Ziquítaro for being able to talk your ear off, this was completely uncharacteristic. But when she turned away to head back to our house, I’m sure that there were tears in her eyes, even though we would only be gone for a few short weeks.  Every time I think of people like Pina, or think of my kids shouting out with joy when I told them that we were returning, or playing basketball at the Secundaria at lunch, my heart warms, and I know where I belong.

            Katherine and I have both been back in the US now for almost two weeks, and I am very excited to head back to Ziquítaro with a fresh outlook in this New Year.  I feel a renewed spirit of determination and enthusiasm for the work we are doing in our community.  Because honestly, I feel as though we are a part of the community in Ziquítaro.  When I tell my family about our students I find myself calling them, “my kids.” What we do is about affecting people’s lives in a positive way, in a way that not only enhances an individual life, but also will continue to transform the face of an entire community. Here’s to hope in 2009, may it be a year of passion, confidence, and determination for all.

Katherine's Wrap-Up Post

Tis the season to celebrate

by Katherine Ferry

We have arrived at our last week in Ziquítaro for 2008, and my near-reluctance to leave signals to me that despite the fall semester’s many challenges, there is much to celebrate of our experience here so far. 

Not surprisingly, I celebrate the handful of my students who scored a perfect 10 in my classes.  But I also celebrate the many students, whether they have perfect grades or not, whose enthusiasm for English class and efforts to make Rachel and me feel welcome assure me that our efforts in this town are worthwhile.  I have a personal custom of keeping certain items around to provide a risa or kind thought to counter life’s inevitable low moments; this holiday season I am thankful for the “gifts” from my students that added to this collection.  First is a picture of Alan, my fifth-grade student, smiling so completely that his cheeks almost cover his eyes.  I look at this and think of his unique humor and all the times he spied me from down the road and raced his bike as fast he could to greet me.  Next is a homework assignment by Noe, my eighth-grade student.  I asked the students to review the alphabet by writing a word they had learned in English for each letter, including a picture.  Noe choose mostly verbs and drew hilarious cartoons for each word, even for more abstract verbs like “know” and “invite”.  I look at his alphabet and remember his wonderful creativity and enthusiasm.  I also have my proud memory of Erika, my seventh-grade student, who during our last class did not say “my ee go to de batroom?”, but asked to go in an accent so outstanding I had to turn and look again to see who said it.  And finally, my letter from my fifth-grader which I mentioned in a previous entry is genuinely a treasure and a reminder of a super gal who is an example to all of us.     

I celebrate the unexpected outcome that our role in Ziquítaro goes far beyond merely being English teachers.  First, we strive to be good examples of educators in general.  I am grateful for the chance to be a teacher who sincerely wants them all to succeed and refuses to give up on them.  In addition to this example, we are ambassadors of sorts, a role which had various manifestations.  We have helped translate and explain confusing visa and employment paperwork to people who have returned from the United States or long to visit or join family members waiting for them in el norte.  I celebrate Rachel’s generous efforts to help our friend Alejo, an example of a fine young person completely thrown off course in life because he is trapped in the unforgiving reality of living between these two cultures.  I celebrate our role, however small, to give a perspective on what life is really like in the United States, especially the hardships for an illegal immigrant.  We have tried patiently to disassemble the idea that one can leave a life of poverty in Mexico to easily slip into a wealthy life on the other side.  And, perhaps most significantly, we have tried to emphasize that working hard in school can provide additional options besides leaving Mexico illegally.     

I celebrate the welcome Ziquítaro has offered us, and the friendships and connections we’ve made despite what we thought was a tremendous cultural divide between us and the people here.  I celebrate the new understanding I have of the complexities and contradictions which come as a result of immigration.  Ziquítaro is not simply a dusty forgotten town somewhere out in México, frozen in the past due to its isolation.  Burros on the town’s bumpy dirt roads are passed by fancy pickup trucks with their booming stereos brought back from the US. I celebrate our efforts to resist the urge to see Ziquítaro’s people, despite what’s on the surface, as unenlightened and living in an era gone by.  We are all living in the 21^st century and now all have our hearts in both countries.  They can provide us with more insight on the immigration phenomenon as we can to them.       

Finally, I cannot count my blessings without including my gratitude for the new administration we will welcome this month.  I hope this great change will begin to alleviate some of the problems I am fortunate to now feel a personal connection and dedication to.  Happy 2009 to all my dear friends and family on both sides of the border, and all the others working hard to make our world a safer and happier place.