Wherever you go, go with all your heart - Confucious
When we finally arrived in Armenia, we were met by our host teacher, Nancy Echeverri. A diminutive, but energetic young lady, I knew the moment I met her that we would connect well, just by the warm snap in her eyes and the easygoing nature of her personality. She and one of our her colleagues, Melissa, and Lisa and I chatted easily in the car on the way to the hotel, as we wended our way past beautiful coffee and plantain farms. After checking us into our hotel, she allowed us to settle in for a while then returned to give us a tour of the neighborhood and to discuss the activities ahead. The upcoming weekend was just for recreation, and would provide us all with an opportunity to get to know each other. It was the perfect way to begin our stay in the Coffee Zone.
The following morning, Nancy, Lisa, myself, and other host teachers and fellows set out to the Parque Del Cafe, a park celebrating the area's chief agricultural product. Think of it as a coffee Disney World. We all felt emboldened to try rides we hadn't attempted to try in a while, and took in a wonderful dance show depicting the folkloric dances of the country. The gardens and walking paths were worth the trip alone. The sun in Colombia is much more direct than in Michigan, and the weather was quite warm. After the events of the week, we were quite tired upon our return home. The next morning, we toured a coffee plantation. We learned how the beans are grown, harvested and dried, and the proper Colombian way to brew and drink coffee. We even playfully dressed the part of coffee farmers, and picked the beans ourselves. We followed our tour with a delicious al fresco lunch of chicharrones, ground pork, eggs, rice, beans, plantains, and always....arepas. Nancy and Biviana, the other Armenia host teacher, wisely chose these activities to allow us to interact on a casual level, and at the end of the weekend, we all felt prepared to start the work week.
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Colombia is known for its coffee in general, but nowhere is the prized bean more important than in the departments of Caldas, Risaraldo and Quindio, which is called the Zona Cafetera or Eje Cafetero (coffee axis). It is to this area, in the city of Armenia (population 279,000) that I will spend the next twelve days working with my guest teacher Nancy Echeverri at the Escuela Normal Superior Del Quindio, a K-11 school consisting of three units and almost 3,000 students. As a teacher in a tiny school in a small, rural school district, this was going to be quite a different setting for me. I had been preparing presentations and lesson plans for weeks, but still had some trepidation and many questions about how my stay there was going to transpire. Because my complete lack of familiarity with the area and my lack of Spanish language skills, even securing a hotel was a challenge. Finally, however, the day had arrived to begin attending to the primary reason I was in Colombia - to work, as a teacher, alongside and with a Colombian teacher. I was cautiously hopeful that my experience would be a positive one. I had done some reading on Armenia prior to my visit and knew that much of the town had been destroyed by an earthquake in 1999, and that it had been completely rebuilt. I also knew that there were many coffee farms in the area and that these farms capitalized on the increasing amount of tourists visiting this beautiful region as a source of sustainable income. One could come to the area and rent a farm, or "finca" atop a hill with a gorgeous panoramic view of coffee and plantain fields. I knew that the school I was going to had a model bilingual program was considered the best in the area. That was about it.
One flies almost everywhere in Colombia. Only 6% of the roads in the country are paved. Colombia has the highest rate of air travel in the world. As a representative of the Department of State, extra precautions are taken to ensure my safety, and bus or taxi travel in the country can sometimes be considered unsafe. Due to the traffic and road conditions in the country, renting a car would be unfathomable. So, a plane was the best way to make the 300 kilometer jaunt to Armenia. After a three hour delay due to a hydraulic problem (I must have a hydraulic jinx about me!) we finally landed into the most magically magnificent land I've even seen in my life. I could not believe my eyes when I departed the plane. The countryside of La Zona Cafetera was stunning - simply stunning. I felt like I had been picked up and dropped onto a movie set. Armenia is similar to any other South American city. Large, congested, dirty, shabby, and sprawling. There are pockets of great wealth amidst large swaths of unimaginable poverty. Street vendors line the streets so tightly one wonders how cars manage to pass by. There are little, if any traffic signs. Traffic laws are largely ignored. "Motos," motorcycles are everywhere, and many people do not drive them well. Small children cling to the backs while adults weave in and out of traffic. My host teacher told me that there is a saying in Colombia - "You can get a license to drive a moto from inside a potato chip bag." This is quite obvious as one sees them dart everywhere to be the first and fastest. Once we checked into our hotel, we ventured out into the streets to buy some lunch. We launched ourselves into the swarming crowds, and we were immediately quite terrified. ...we go! Today, in celebration of Colombian Independence Day, we took a tram to the top of Montserrate (alt 10,300 ft) and enjoyed the panoramic view of the massive mega city of Bogota, which has a metropolitan wide population of twelve-plus million. After enjoying a wonderful lunch at a mountain-top restaurant that was a historical home moved all the way to the top of the mountain, we rode the train down back to our bus. Because of its high altitude, Bogota is rather chilly all year round. The temperature seldom rises above the 60's. It was even breezier and colder atop Montserrate. We we were all a bit chilled when we returned to our hotel, but our in-country coordinator, Yiannis Romero, rectified that situation by arranging a surprise performance by a Colombian band. The dancers tried with modest success to teach us to dance South American-style. I am quite certain they are still laughing at us. Tomorrow, I head off to Armenia, to my host city and school!
July 19, 2017
Today my TGC cohort members and I filed into our cute little bus and drove across town to Institucion Educativa Aquileo Parra. I am beginning to get a bit more accustomed to the mayhem that is Bogota traffic. We wended our way through neighborhoods that were so exclusive that they were walled off with razor wire-topped brick walls, past exclusive designer clothing shops and car dealerships, until we once again enterered an extremely modest area of Bogota, where the school was located. We walked past the ubiquitous South American snack carts lining the sidewalks,tables of old men drinking coffee and sleeping dogs and lined up outside a walled-off area that was the entrance to the school. We had to pass by a security guard to enter the compound. IEAP is a public high school which offers education from nursery school to eleventh grade. It has approximately 1,500 students. Their educational mission and vision helps them develop projects in different subjects which resemble the community where the school is. Aquileo Parra is located in the northern part of Bogota in a locality called El Verbenal. This is a lower middle class community. Its principal as well as some teachers have been involved in exchanges with US schools. The embassy of the United States has worked with students from 9th and 10th grade and has provided lectures about civil rights. One note about Colombian schools: most public schools operate in shifts, because they service so many children. The morning shift attends from about 6:30 to 12:00, and the afternoon shift from 1:00 to 6:30. Some teachers work one shift, some work both! That is a very long school day! Class sizes are large - anywhere from 30 to 45 students - which often makes for a high noise level in the classroom. As we walked up the walkway to the school, we were greeted by children. Many, many children, at all grade levels, each wearing its own distinctive uniform. Preschool children wore tiny blue and white gingham check smocks, other grade levels wore plaid skirts and ties, while upper grade levels wore track suits. There did not seem to be any sort of system as to how these uniforms were chosen. The primary grade levels were holding and waving American flags that they had made themselves. They were smiling and waving at us. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, and I can almost guarantee that every other teacher had the same. We felt like rock stars as we bent over to greet these children, saying “Buenas Dias!” or “Good morning” to them. Many of the little tiny children said “Hello!” with bright, dark, shining eyes looking up at us. We visited a few moments before the principal spoke to us about the mission of the school. I noticed that the principal talked about issues and problems his school faced - single parent homes, marginalization, teen pregnancy, bullying - and how they were seeking to rectify them, and that they were identical to the struggles my school faces. We were subsequently treated to a lovely dance and musical presentation of traditional folk dances. Presentations were given by older students outlining programs that the school had about conflict resolution and global understanding. The school also had a Model UN group, which very much impressed our teachers. We loved how the young people here spoke with such passion and eloquence about their wish for world peace and understanding. They were articulate, intelligent and poised. We all walked away feeling we had made many new friends. In the afternoon, we visited the Instituta Educativa Distrital Usaquen. Located in a part of town that had a higher level income of housing, the school still served a similar demographic student, as they were bused into the school. There, we observed several classes, and held a panel with a group of young students that were equally passionate and eager to communicate with us. Everywhere we went, we were mobbed by beautiful, curious children, wanting to say hello and practice their English - they were shy and boisterous all at the same time. They ran around the school grounds behind us, following us, jumping up and peeking into the windows of classrooms we were in, waving and calling to us. Several children asked me, “Are you famous?” I think that each and every one of us ended this day smiling. 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. 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 |