Teaching in the Tropics

All Hail the Mighty Paperweight?

Moments after Kevin and I dismissed our high school gym class the air was filled with a thunder that rivaled the starting line-up at the Indy 500.  As one motorbike ripped between standing students, Scooters dove between concrete posts and other pupils, and finally a stone whizzed by from a spray of gravel kicked up by a leaving ATV, which is strictly against the rules; Kevin and I half grinned at each other, shaking our heads once again with an expression saying “It’s just not like Canada here”.

Sure, grade eights still learn science and math but when was the last time your student proposed an Alligator dissection as his science fair project.  “Do it” I said, “That would be a fantastic project.  But where do you find the alligator?”

“I’ll just go out to the rice field and club one” he says.

Here's my little classroom

Still skeptical, but hopeful, I did a little further investigation and apparently finding a harmless, three to four foot crocodile should be a simple exercise as long as one doesn’t venture into the “tall grass” as that’s where the 10 to 12 footers live.  They can hurt you.

Yet amid all this novelty one of the greatest challenges is that of simply holding onto what’s important, i.e. papers.  The wind is always blowing; hopefully, because if it stops, your sweat is immediately flowing.  We gave up trying to stay dry after two days.  It was surprising how quickly our comfort increased the moment we submitted to always being a little sticky.  This makes the wind your friend until you are trying to keep your text book open to a certain page, have notes available on your podium, or you are trying to mark a pile of tests on the desk in front of you.

Just outside my door looking
across at the elementary school

The building we teach in is a pleasant if simple two story concrete structure.  My room has windows on each side which are louvered to let the air through.  I’ve tried closing them to maintain my mental sanity after what feels like a ten round battle royal with the elements.  Each window I close however increases the temperature by approximately five degrees; so, the question then becomes; by which means do I wish to go crazy?

I remember sitting back home in air conditioned comfort thinking, “a paperweight might be one of the most useless inventions on planet earth.” Now I am forced to clip, clamp and pin, both elbows frequently engaged, each and every piece of paper that I’d like to maintain control over; then I can work.

Here's the high school, I'm the middle room on the bottom,
up the stairs is the church building

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

The first day we arrive, Margret gave the tour of Blue Creek, showing where to buy the freshest vegetables for example.  Their freezer section is literally, a freezer; probably not as big as yours at home.  Three miles down the road is a woman who sells milk and cream.  To get chicken there is a farm all the way at the back of the reserve, a drive of ten to fifteen minutes.  If you want the best produce and good deals not available in Belize, you can pay $2 and take a boat across the nearby Hondo River to Mexico.  While technically illegal to import these goods, the border guy allows the locals to carry household groceries across.  Suffice to say, this all makes the checkout lines at home look express.

Chillin on the step 

These distances also make getting to school interesting.  As the entire community is private property though, there are no rules about driving, so everyone does.  Before and after school the parking lot becomes like downtown Winnipeg after a jets game, except that carpooling here is at a premium.  One scooter holds three kids easily.  Nicki says she’s seen five, and if the oldest child is seven years old, they drive.  One day after gym class up at the park, I stopped at the store and beside me pulled in a little car without a driver.  Shocked, I looked closer to see there was a driver but he must be looking through the steering wheel to see; he was ten years old max.  The passenger seat held two and the back seat another four.  One of these jumped out to pick up something for mom at home.  Further research from Nicki indicates that they boy is not in her level at school, which starts at grade four.  This puts the driver at no older than eight years old.  Apparently one of the passengers is eleven but it’s not her parents car so she can’t drive.

The first day of school Erica, like any good mother, went with the kids to be sure they found their way into their new surroundings.  Thinking she would chat it up with some of the other moms hanging about she quickly discovered that there were none.  Blue Creek kids are independent and for better or worse; in some ways, kids seem to grow up fast here.

Teacher, Leave Them Kids Alone

You might be surprised how much drama transpires within the four walls of my little grade eight classroom.  In the first number of weeks I’ve already had one of the girls crying, discovered an aspiring Hollywood actor and had to assert control over a mob style ring leader with Gestapo style classroom management.

These three pull off looking studious rather well, no?

I've got a group of ten interesting characters in grade eight that’s for sure.  Carlos would much rather spend his class time running to the top of the hill, in 38 degree heat,  to fill the ubiquitous water jugs than spend an extra five minutes getting his grammar quiz right.  Lets face it most of their parents didn’t finish grade twelve and they are running successful farms, business and trades across the community. 

I'm not always a dictator