Moving Time

Three months, almost exactly, have passed since arrival. In the past three months, I’ve sat through countless hours of training. I’ve learned survival Spanish. I’ve experienced Christmas in Colombia, traveled to a beautiful national park, become a part of a family both in the home and in our group of now 21 volunteers (two of our original 23 have returned home to continue their own journeys there), and I’ve chafed at the bit, wondering when “real life” would start.

And now, finally it’s beginning. In a manner of speaking. 

Unlike the Peace Corps stories of yore, that include taking bus, truck, and crop duster to reach the isolated outposts a volunteer may call home for two years, my new home is a three minute taxi ride from my previous. My new barrio, though only eight blocks away, is slightly less user-friendly, including hosting a few murders in the past few months (one at the park where I’ve already been running each morning), some neighborhood drug trafficking bosses, and a few more industrial-type car-fixing business sprinkled throughout the residential area. It’s not unsafe, exactly—just means that I shouldn’t really leave the house or walk through the area alone after eight at night. It’s also 30 blocks away from my school, so rather than sharing a community with my new, more centrally-located school, I will have two new communities to call my own. 

My new family is wonderful in a completely new way--whereas I had been living with only two, elderly people, here there are many people from ages nine or so up, and lots of relatives who live close by and often stop in. There’s also a tiny dog, Suzie, who is scheduled to have super tiny puppies come February or March!

In other news, although my new room is larger, it does not have windows. However, I do have internet… I guess I’ve substituted fresh air for a window to the world! I also have a ceiling fan, which has a pretty high kill record; anyone taller than five feet tall puts their hands over their head at their own peril—risking tetanus and finger gashes from the deadly metal blades. (Mike, the previous volunteer who lived here averaged one fan attack a month, and just last night Tyler got a little too excited at a football touchdown and experienced the rage of the blades as well.) This is, of course, all a moot point because I am not taller than five feet tall. 

School sort of starts this coming week. This week the teachers start, and along with meeting, greeting, and doing some organizing, they find out which grades they are expected to teach. No, this is not a constant thing. There is no room preparation or anything, however, because here teachers never have their own rooms—everyone just rotates according to the day and time. 

And then the week after this, the children begin school as well. Except, as they do over all things here on the coast, festivals win out over work. Since Carnival begins late February, we’ve been informed by our counterparts not to expect much serious school to happen prior to Carnival. AKA, not for at least a month! We should, however, expect that every Friday, classes will be shortened to accommodate the weekly Carnival-related celebration, which apparently all build up to the real thing. We should expect that teachers and students will show up to school, but the air will be full of festivity and such. 

So, basically, our weeks built in for school observation will be weeks filled with wondering, as always, what in the world is going on! These are the weeks in which I will attempt to meet the teachers, establish something of my role within the school, do my needs assessments, and make something of a plan for March…when “real life”—aka teaching/fulfilling my described job role— may actually begin…

And yet, as I look for ways to establish schedules and routines that will help keep me sane, I’m also considering the notion that the “real life” I often crave—of the sort that includes settling in and establishing routines—doesn’t quite exist. Or at least, not in the manner to which I’d been accustomed. (Shocker, no?!)  But hopefully, after so many changes and since I am very much still going through the Spanish learning curve, I’m predicting that after a few more months here, at least I’ll have a better idea of what sorts of expectations to have…fingers crossed for what’s ahead!