Musings from Day Three at the university

a.) Classes have been in session for over two weeks now.  Half of the English classes that I have or will have contact with do not yet have teachers.  The teachers have been hired, and the students are still showing up at the designated time.  The unfortunate bit is that when they get to the classroom, there's no teacher there.  For all my asking, I still don't know what they're waiting for.  The facutly seems to find no problem with this situation.

b.)  In the classes I have visited where a teacher was present, I have observed the following: interruptions are not only tolerated, but welcomed; teachers do not require students to listen or show any ounce of respect toward their peers when they speak; the learning environment is what I would describe as traumatic (forced oral delivery in front of a cackling crowd of merciless critics, constant interruptions, etc.) but no one but me seems to mind.

c.) This learning institution is not exempt from the rampant racism and gender discrimination that prevails outside its walls.

d.) No one bothers to temper or check their whistles, comments or stares, even here.  Even in this place where progressive thought and modern education claim to be at work.  And today I just about lost it.  (But I didn't, and it's fine.)

e.) There is tremendous pressure from the faculty here.  They believe I have answers that I quite obviously don't.  Inappropriate applications of this pressure: 1. when, at the end of class, before students are dismissed, I am asked to publicly rate (scale of 1-10) the students' English, 2. when I am called into a surprise meeting to 'interview' a recently-hired English teacher to assess his ability without any prior notice (a wretched and disgusting experience), 3. when I am asked to design and deliver new courses (starting next week, of course) for all levels, including professors. 

If this all sounds negative, it's because it is.  But there are wonderful things happening, too.

a.) While running in the park today, I saw girls from a local private school perform the most incredible drum line.  Their male counterparts were engaged in super intense relay races on the cobblestone track.  We raced.  They won.

b.) The little old ladies that run the markets and shops call me mi hijita.

c.) I am taking a second-year Quichua class that kicked my ass last night and will continue to do so for as long as I can bare it.  And it feels so very good to be a student again.

d.) The beer here is better than anticipated.