Wherever you go, go with all your heart - Confucious
July 18
Today I had my first encounter with the Colombian education system by taking a trip to the National Educational Service Center, or SENA. SENA is a public government institution designed to promote education in Colombia and enhance employment opportunities for students who are likewise unable to afford higher education. Over the past 50 years, SENA has been highlighted as one of the most important technical and technological centers in North America, with branches in more than 20 of the 32 departmental centers in Colombia. (Colombia has departments, as we have states, each headed by a governor). SENA offers programs in administration, agriculture, architecture, construction, design, electricity, electronics, mechanics, and technology. Attending SENA is completely free for students, and there is no age limit to access any of its many programs. My initial impression of the educational facilities in Colombia is that they are not nearly in the same physical condition that our schools are in. When we pulled up to the center, it was difficult to distinguish the school from other buildings in the neighborhood. It seemed to simply melt into the jumble of buildings in the area. This is quite often the case in Colombia, where communities seem to spring up without much civic planning. As is frequently the case, we had to pass through a security checkpoint to enter the facility. The school seemed almost prison-like, without a great deal of effort made to attend to decor or aesthetic. There were students playing soccer outside as we entered services students aged fifteen well into adulthood, and physical education, “recreation” and moral education were important components of the school. There is also a required core curriculum beyond the trade school aspect of the center. All students take English class. The students wear uniforms, coveralls or smocks that correspond with their trade. We visited several classrooms, such as electrical training, computers and an English class. The students shyly practiced their English skills with us, as we asked them questions and they introduced themselves and told us of their career plans. They seemed utterly fascinated by our presence. It is still not very common to see Americans in Colombia, especially in the lower middle class strata that most of these students are derived from. We were welcomed by the director of the center, who sat with us and explained the facility and mission of the SENA, which is a public/private collaboration. One very interesting feature of SENA is that the institution works with area corporations by communicating with them about their needs and tailoring their curricula and instruction to meet the needs of the companies. She explained that three out of five students that graduate immediately find work within their graduating field. I wish we had something like this in our area. Although we have community college and trade programs, they are not equally accessible to all students, as unless one qualifies for financial aid, one must pay, and it can often be financially inaccessible. Furthermore, this program addresses a crucial issue that I feel our country needs to take a realistic reassessment of - that it is not necessary for all students to continue in a college-track program until age 18. I appreciated very much that these young men and women were working hard to be part of a viable 21st century technical career force. I also learned a lesson from visiting this school - that one must not judge a book by its cover. I am quickly finding out in South America that the appearance on the outside is often not an accurate gauge of what type of learning is occurring on the inside.
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July 16-17
I am not even certain that there are words to describe the range of sensations and emotions I have experienced in the past two days. Exhaustion, exhilaration and excitement are the first three words that come to my mind as I write. After first stepping off the plane a full 24 hours after my cohort arrived in Colombia following an emotional tear-filled week of medical complications and missed flight connections, I was relieved to be in Colombia, but short on sleep and overwhelmed by the enormity of having to deal with a sea of people waiting in line for luggage and passage through customs. I felt as if at any moment, if any official dared to question my existence at the airport, or my reason for being in the country, either in English or Spanish, I might burst into tears. Fortunately, Max, our IREX coordinator, was waiting for me right outside of customs, and he whisked me away from the airport to the plushest hotel I’ve ever stayed in, the Four Seasons of Bogota. My room is beautiful. I think I could happily reside here for the rest of my life. We are currently residing in an area of Bogota called the “Zona Rosa,” or the Red Zone, which is considered one of the more upscale parts of the city. Bogota, with a population of over 10 million, is considered a “mega city.” It is massive - sprawling, noisy, graffiti-riddled, and congested, with absolutely the most insane drivers I have ever seen in my life. It seems that every venture onto its roadways is a brush with death for each and every motorist. From the vantage point of the small bus we travel about in, I have seen multiple near-miss accidents, especially between autos and bikes or motorcycles. I am breathless as I watch motorcycles dash between two busses careening down already narrow lines, then dart out quickly to get ahead of them. I am certain I will see a death before I leave. As with most cities, there are areas of overwhelming poverty and areas of incredible luxury. The wealthier zones are green, lovely, and clean, and carefully isolated with brick walls topped by razor wires. There is apparently, from my reading, a very distinct class stratification in Colombia, and this was evident just by my casual observations while driving through the city. The poor parts of the city consist of endless apartments that are devoid of architecture. Graffiti exists everywhere - but often it is artfully beautiful. Dogs ramble about the streets and litter is everywhere. One defining feature of this city even in the poorer areas, is that small independent businesses flourish everywhere. It seems that there is a tiny store for everything - snacks, bread, and hair salons - there is seemingly a shop for everything. One might think a building is vacant or abandoned, but no, in the morning, it opens and there are cell phones being sold. There are street vendors on every corner selling gum, drinks, fruit juices and snacks. There are bakeries, panaderias, everywhere, and the tantalizing smell of bread is constantly wafting through the streets. I could devote an entire blog post to the breads of Colombia (and I probably will!) It is only four days until my departure for perhaps the greatest adventure of my life. I am traveling to Colombia as a fellow in the Teachers for Global Classrooms program, as part of a cohort of nine other teachers from across the country. We will meet in Atlanta, Georgia and travel to Bogota, Colombia where we will disburse throughout the country in pairs for almost three weeks to learn about the Colombian education system, and to teach students and future teachers about American students and educators. I have been preparing for this trip for over a year now, and have made list after of what I need to pack. I have prepared lessons and purchased gifts for my host teacher. My students have written letters to their Colombian counterparts, and I have prepared a presentation about my life here in America. I should be counting the minutes until I leave!
However, my heart is a bit heavy, as I sit and type these words. i am sitting in a chair in a hospital as my husband sleeps beside me, still recovering from the effects of a three-hour surgical fusion of the cervical portion of his spine yesterday. Although the surgery went well, and his surgeon reassures me that he will be just fine with the assistance of his nearby parents in my absence, I am still worried about leaving him behind. I have a bit of a lump in my throat and I get tears in my eyes when I look at him, wrapped in his giant cervical collar, sleeping away. "Go, Julie," he says. "I will be resting and walking, and I promise to behave myself." I told him I have spies everywhere. "Yes, dear, I know," he says." He will be discharged first thing tomorrow and we will make the hour and a half trip home to begin his recuperation...and so that I can start feverishly packing. |
Julie SherlockMusician, teacher, wanderer, human being. ArchivesCategories |