Hola

Okay, here it is. Welcome.

So, first order of business: I’m in Chile and it’s cold. For speakers of English, this has all the workings of some serious wordplay—the kind of wordplay one might be tempted to dabble with in a blog-post; and I have to admit, ever since leaving the buttery heat of Miami for these brisk latitudes, I’ve labored over this pun, worried how I would handle it here, in front of all of you, without sounding like Bob Saggot. But in the end, after delaying this post for over three weeks, I’ve decided that Chile, which just so happens to be very chilly this time of year, was more than a clever homonym—Chile has a female president and its people sometimes eat horses for godsakes!—so please forgive me and my irrelevance.

Chile is cold in July. To make it even colder, and more remote to my northern hemispherical mind, many buildings down here lack heating, so everybody just wears their jackets inside. It’s kind of like camping, but instead of tents, there are houses. On colder nights, you can see your breath when watching TV. Despite the weather, though, I’ve found the people to be rather warm and kind. For the past three weeks we’ve been living with a generous host family who has taken us into their frosty home, fed us truck-loads of avocados, and nursed my Spanish above caveman level.

We really didn’t know what to expect before arriving. We knew that we would be volunteering for the Ministry of Education, teaching English to children, and living in Villa Alemana, a suburb of Valparaiso. Thankfully, this all turned out to be true. We also knew that we’d be working closely with local English teachers and helping schools with extra-curricular activities. Also true. What they didn’t tell us was that, if you were assigned to an elementary school, as I was, you would also be playing the role of messiah / rockstar—and I wasn’t prepared for this. From the time I arrive in the morning, till the time I leave, the children follow me, asking me questions like how many children I have and if I know anybody in the WWF. Even when I’m walking home from school, trying not to get bit by all the stray dogs, it’s not uncommon for me to hear “Teeeem!” in dolphin-octaves, “Hiilloo, Mister Teeeem!” It’s all very touching and in a pathetic way, ego-boosting.

The teaching is interesting. I’ll dedicate a whole post to it later. Suffice it to say, teaching English to Chilean children is challenging—not because teaching English is difficult, but because the overall lack of infrastructure and teacher competency in the schools makes for a different set of problems. I can’t say that I wasn’t warned, though: the day before leaving for Santiago, I got an email from the project coordinator here asking me not to expect much in the way of “discipline” in Chilean schools. This was sweet of him. The email instantly conjured up scenes from Kindergarten Cop, where I’d be in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s position—¿Cómo se dice “Stop whining!” en español?—but in reality, things are fine, just fine. The teachers are actually more difficult to work with than the kids, but you just have to go with the flow down here; and sometimes going with the flow means singing that stupid Brian Adams song to forty students, by yourself, several times a day, everyday, for two weeks. Again, more about this later.

Anyway, thanks for reading. There’s much to write about and I hope to update this blog at least twice a week from now on. I promise.