Literacy

Every step of the way has been a struggle so far.  Seven months spent working with so many students, so many facilitators, who lose motivation, lack resources and knowledge.   Seven months spent working with people at an unbelievably disorganized foundation, who consistently show up three hours late, if at all; who would rather gather a random group of people together to take a photo of a “literacy class” than admit that the class has fallen apart and no longer exists.  To be honest, I haven’t written much about my work in the last several months because it’s generally been quite frustrating.  So, disclaimer: much of what follows might sound kind of negative, but I’ve had a lot of good moments too, and, ultimately, the successes and failures probably even out.  (And by that I mean, if one person actually learned to read for every five people who gave up and left class, it was worth it.)

I arrived here in May somehow already feeling responsible for this work.  I was introduced to my community as “the Americana in charge of the literacy program” – a program that began in March (two months before I even knew that I would be living and working in Tabara Arriba for two years) with approximately 300 students in 26 classes between 5 communities.  My role was actually never made clear.  In fact, I was generally the one initiating communication with the foundation that solicited for me.  Somehow I’ve always felt that it should have been the other way around…

So I ended up defining my own role, amidst much misunderstanding and self-doubt, many roadblocks and pauses.  While they would have been happy using me for administrative tasks (which is explicitly against Peace Corps goals for volunteers), I stated my case pretty strongly – that there was no way I could work effectively with all of the classes, that they needed to help me with transportation money to travel between communities, and that I am not here to be an administrative employee.  Instead, I would focus on motivation, learning tools, team-teaching with the facilitators… ie. Quality control.   Which was sorely needed, as they continue to be more concerned with quantity than quality, some of the facilitators are barely able to read themselves, and only one or two have any teaching skills whatsoever.   

But I was not here when this program was planned, when facilitators were seemingly chosen without any sort of screening process.  And I was not here for the exciting beginning stages either, when everything was new and possible.  I arrived just in time for the program’s many problems to come to light and become serious issues.  Adult literacy is probably the most difficult area of education to tackle.  Learning to read is no easy task, add to that the fact that you are beginning from square one with a group of people who are older (ranging in age from 13 to 75), maybe have never entered a classroom of any kind before, and have many real life issues that keep them from coming to class…

Though a few classes took place in actual classrooms, most were held in the facilitators’ homes.  Most of my evenings up until now have involved working with one or two classes in rotation, finding anywhere from two to twelve students present on any given day, sitting in a circle of plastic chairs in the facilitator’s yard, a chalkboard hung on the wall of the house, notebooks in their laps and pencils in hand.  The daily work of teaching literacy is usually not exciting.  It’s repetitive, frustrating, and requires extreme patience.  Some of the most dedicated students just couldn’t seem to remember what they learned from one day to the next.  Others weren’t all that dedicated.

During the rainy season, days went by without class, as the sky always seemed to open up just in time to keep people in their houses.  When it started getting dark earlier, class became dependent on whether or not we had electricity on any given night.  When it came time to pick coffee, half of the students disappeared to the mountains to work.  Mothers missed class because they had to cook dinner; teenagers missed class because they would rather hang out on the corner with a beer.  But classes persisted.  The students who completely lost motivation just stopped coming.  New students showed up who hadn’t started the program with everyone else.   Facilitators became frustrated, teaching to different levels with few materials or skills to work with.  Some facilitators quit before their students did!  I’m sad to admit, my standards lowered drastically. 

I would have done a lot of things differently, but it’s nearly impossible to change things that were put in place long before I got here.  I tried.  But I am just one person, and it took me until somewhere around October to calm down, accept the many things that I could not change, and be happy with the small successes.  Of which there are many!  When I was feeling most frustrated with the big picture of the program as a whole, I always felt better after working with a class.  Women who used to sign their names by writing “XXX” in the blank could now write their full names, and the names of their family members.  Teenage boys, who in the beginning literally needed someone to hold their hand to help them shape their first letters, could now write a simple sentence about daily life.  Despite all the struggle, I like to think that I was able to hold at least some of the classes together, help some of the facilitators do a better job, keep some of the students encouraged and supported.

Tabara Arriba’s literacy program ended last week with evaluations for the students who were still standing.   26 classes became 20, 300 active students became 189.   Of those, only 98 participated in the final evaluation (most of the rest were up in those mountains, working).  48 passed, and 50 failed.  And these numbers are probably a little bit generous.  There was a pretty huge learning curve coming into this.  It’s a good thing I already had a high Spanish level, because if language had made things any more confusing than they already were I might have just given up.  I recently said something to another volunteer about how I wish my work would eventually just settle into a routine so I can stop pushing my way forward and just relax a little.   He responded that that probably only happens if I stop caring… Gave me something to think about.

But 48 people learned enough to pass a test!  That’s something.  Especially considering that some of them had never held a pencil before last March.