The Rhythm of Life

In Zamora, the first days of January not only mark the beginning of a new year, but also the start of the rainy seasons. For the past month, I have been brutally roused from my dreams by the sound of torrential downpours beating on the tin roof of my apartment nearly every morning. The rains continue until mid-morning when the sun temporarily emerges and the temperature soars. For a moment, we enjoy magnificent views of the already verdent hillsides that are now scarred by long swathes of reddish mud from the frequent landslides and the sparkling blue skies until storm clouds gather once again and the cycle continues.

Despite of the onslaught of rain, life in Zamora has resumed its rhythm. Much of my week is spent in the high school learning about education, Ecuador, and the intricacies of the English language. In terms of the educational system, I am becoming increasingly vexed by many of the structural problems found in Ecuador and beyond. For example, in each grade level, there are several classes—denoted as A,B,C and so forth—that remain the same until students specialize in their fourth year. Once I began teaching in the colegio, I almost immediately noticed that the students in A tended to behave better than those in other classes and receive higher grades. I was told that it had to do with previous scholastic performance, but I have since learned that this is not the case. Rather, classes are formed as students matriculate in the colegio. At first, this seems somewhat fair; it's first come, first serve after all. Yet, it creates classrooms in which the parents prioritized enrollment in the colegio—often indicating that they highly value education-- and classrooms in which the parents lagged behind for whatever reason. I suspect that the majority still value education; they just lack the time and resources necessary to enroll their children promptly. Unfortunately, this may suggest that they also do not have the time and resources needed to support heir children throughout the year. Thus, the colegio has classes with deeply involved parents who even organize impromptu mingas to paint the classroom and others in which no parents arrived for mandatory meetings with the directors of each class. Given the importance of parental involvement in education, this obviously creates a chasm between the classes with some overflowing with involved parents and others with very few if any active guardians. An inbalance—much like that created by the introduction of charter schools in the United States—consequently forms between the classes.

And, without question, all of the students in the colegio should have access to the same resources and support networks. Those with parents deeply involved in the school are not necessarily smarter; after all, on a recent test taken by all of my students in octavo (seventh grade), 8C had a higher class average than my other octavo classes in spite of their reputation as a mischievous bunch that barely ever studied. And the students in all classes – A, B, C, D, and E continue to impress me. Some—who are only twelve years old—work shining shoes, selling produce, and collecting bus fare for hours after school in order to help their families. Others live without parents who immigrated to Spain years ago. In some cases, they are not even living with relatives. One fourteen-year-old recently revealed that he lives with his seventeen-year-old brother with no adult supervision—they cook, they clean, and they survive without much help while their parents work across the Atlantic.

Apart from teaching past tense verbs and learning about the challenges facing my students, I have recently begun another project at the high school. As a means of demonstrating the value of recycling and eventually decorating the school, we recently planted oodles of flowers in pots made from recycled tires. Eventually, we would like to plant vegetables—a healthier snack than almost anything currently available to students during break (salchipapas anyone?)--and create a garden of sorts that addresses various issues simultaneously including trash management and nutrition.

Yet, while I often feel as if I live in the colegio, life procedes beyond its gates as well. Babies are born— many, many, many babies considering that 1/10 Ecuadorian women is pregnant or nursing at any given time—, adults marry, and the elderly die. Recently, I've had the opportunity to experience the latter two events.

Last weekend, an Ecuadorian friend married and I attended the wedding. The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 7:00, but, in typical Ecuadorian fashion, even the priest arrived late. At 7:30, the bride finally waltzed down the aisle and the ceremony began. It was surprisingly similar to a wedding in the United States; apart from the language, the only notable difference occurred when the newlyweds were tied together with a rope and left así for the remainder of the mass. I later discovered that this is not, however, an Ecuadorian tradition nor a Zamoreñan tradition; it was just the couple's crazy idea. Following the ceremony, there was a reception in a rather ritzy hosteria in the countryside. After gourging ourselves on impossibly delicious food and cake, the dancing began and proceeded until nearly all men under the age of thirty had jumped into the pool and, unfortunately, succeeded in throwing the gringa in as well. Luckily, it is never cold in Zamora-Chinchipe.

Only a few days after the wedding, Zamorans awoke to much more depressing news. The father of the colegio's rector, essentially the principal, had passed away after a short, intense battle with cancer. According to Ecuadorian tradition, the body remained in the home until it was buried the following day with friends and family watching over it. Thus, the staff of the colegio went to the home on Monday afternoon and accompanied the rector and his family for a bit. The following day, classes were also cancelled and we attended the funeral. Although Ecuador is predominantly Catholic, the family is evangelical. Thus, a ceremony—which about half the city attended—was held outside. Although it appeared solomn near the family, the other areas proved a bit raucious. Vendors were even selling shaved ice along the fringes of the crowd. After the ceremony, the family carried the coffin the the cementary, which was about ½ from the house and the amassed crowd trailed behind, blocking the roads. Once we finally arrived, the coffin was placed within on its shelf as bodies are generally not buried in the ground in South America and the crowd dispersed.