MY VIEW
Teaching in Nicaragua proves to be a challenge
Updated: 09/30/08 6:43 AM
The last day of school. After 10 months of struggling to be heard over the din of some very boisterous high school students, I can hardly believe this day has arrived. And while many teachers will tell you that the first year is a challenge, I’d say it’s even more difficult when you choose to do it in a foreign country.
My decision to teach in a private school in Nicaragua stemmed from my own adolescent experiences. When a nun came to talk to my eighth-grade class about her missionary work, something inside me jumped. In college I traveled to Nicaragua on a brief but gut-wrenching service-learning trip and saw sights that took my breath away: children living among the rubble of Managua’s city dump, overworked young women trudging out of the sweatshops at the day’s end, so many beggars in the streets.
But, for every problem, there were people working to make a change. Inspired by these dedicated union organizers, aid workers and teachers, I felt called to be more than just a tourist in this beautiful country. When the opportunity came to teach in one of Nicaragua’s most prestigious private schools, I felt called to work with the people who seemed to need the most guidance — sons and daughters of the nation’s most powerful families.
In a country where 80 percent of the people struggle just to put food on the table, the rest live as many upper-middle class Americans do — shopping in malls, going to the movies and driving expensive cars.
However, in contrast to most Americans, these privileged few seem extremely proud of their status. My new acquaintances rarely ventured out of their tight social circles; while some of them did volunteer work, the thought of socializing with the poor on an equal footing was unthinkable.
As for my students, I had to forget about molding them into socially conscious citizens. Many of them had been materially spoiled but emotionally neglected, and they brought their angst to school. Content with their privilege, many displayed a disrespectful, even mocking attitude when speaking of the poor. However, I knew that my own negative attitude was not fair. Many of them were dealing with serious issues in their homes — alcoholism, illness, divorce. Beneath their sarcasm and rudeness, they were as vulnerable as any child shining shoes in the market.
“Do you believe that it’s possible for you personally to make a difference in the world?” I was not surprised when most of my students answered “no” to this question. While we all may admire the Nelson Mandelas and Mother Teresas of the world, very few individuals actually effect change on such a grand scale.
However, no matter how seemingly insignificant our own efforts may be, chances are that they are significant for someone. Even on the days when most of my students couldn’t care less about the class, I always found a few eager faces staring at me expectantly.
Every one of us makes some kind of difference in the world. All the seemingly insignificant daily decisions — such as where we buy our clothes and coffee — have a direct impact on someone. We may not see the result of our actions; we may never know if we have done good or bad. But that is no reason to keep from trying to do what is good.
As I pack my bags and leave Nicaragua, I know that I have learned. Whether my students have learned is open to question — but like all fledgling teachers I can only hope.
