And then it all clicked together

As I mentioned in my last post, my Spanish dramatically improved between Friday and Sunday, almost as if by magic. I told one friend that it was as if I was injected with a “now you can speak Spanish” shot. While it’s certainly not perfect, I find I can understand more and more. Now I laugh when a joke is actually told, rather than laughing because I know there was a joke that I missed (I can still hear the swooshing noise it makes as it passes over my head).

Likewise, my interviews have been going a lot better too. During the past school year, I had the privilege of taking a community-based research class as well as a qualitative research class at Stanford. During these classes we designed studies and conducted practice interviews. While many students were wary of their ability to conduct a strong and worthwhile interview during for these classes, I had no worries and was quite confident in my ability to ask meaningful questions and keep my mouth shut while I waited for people’s responses. However, I reached the Dominican Republic and all my interviewing confidence went out the window. I felt my confidences and skills in these areas had evaporated. I love language and like to be nimble, clever, and thoughtful with my words. In English, I think I can do this pretty well. Yet for the first three weeks in the Dominican Republic, it felt like my tongue was wearing cement boots and I was thudding along. These discomforts and lack of security also came through in my first interviews. I could sense the women trying to take care of me like a small child and many mistook me for 16 or 17. This added insult to injury, as I received simplified answers and became dubious of my ability to actually receive the information that could help me accomplish that which I intended to.

Thus, when Sunday rolled around and I had magic Spanish skills, I was immensely relieved and antsy to put my skills to the test. I now feel more in place and capable. This internal boost has filtered through to my external self--even my very same clothes seem to fit and look better. At the advice of another intern, I now conduct the one-on-one interviews away from the group. I am also very clear and upfront about who I am, what questions I want to ask, and why I am interested in these questions, microfinance, and (most importantly) the woman with whom I am speaking. That being said, I am not a cold ice queen. Rather, I maintain my usual chipper tone but now with more purpose and direction. I have found that my taking on a more dominant role creates an environment that seems stable and controlled and, as a result, this week’s interviews have been (all in all) incredible. Instead of people asking if I’m sixteen and want a lollypop, people are asking me if I have a husband and kids, to which I emphatically reply “No.” Their sensing that I am a mature and capable also elicits deeper responses, making the experience even more meaningful.

This general sense of strength and purpose has permeated my home life too. Last night, after we enjoyed a romantic candlelit dinner (those happen sporadically when the lights go out), Rebecca and I played a few hands of a card game called Casino. She had patiently taught me the rules during the first week and I’ve finally figured out a pretty solid strategy. After we finished, I was playing a hand of solitaire when Wendy, the adopted five-year-old who lives with us, wandered over and started saying random numbers. It soon became clear to me that Wendy did not know her numbers. She can count—that is, she can look at the five of diamonds and count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 5! But she cannot look at just the symbol and identify it as a five. This disturbed me, as in my mind a five-year-old should know these things. Even if parents have minimal education, they can teach their children numbers, letters, and basic words. They can instill in them a desire to learn and make their children feel intelligent so when they enter the classroom they are prepared to do well. Well, it seems that the philosophy is that learning takes place in the classroom.

Using the deck as makeshift flashcards, I separated out all the cards 2-5 (2-9 might be a bit overwhelming). I then began showing them to Wendy. We made a game of it and timed how long it took us to go through this little deck. At first, I let her count and shout out the number. But, as we practiced more, I started to cover all but the symbol, making her identify the number on her own. She grew a little bit frustrated, but I was able to help maintain an upbeat tone, celebrating her profusely every time she got one right and insisting that she knew the right answer when she thought she didn’t. Additionally, Wendy is one of those kids that trips over a step, goes sprawling, and bounces back laughing rather than hurt or defeated, so I’m not that worried about discouragement.

I love teaching. I readily embrace the challenge of figuring out how best to help someone else grasp and understand a concept, usually cementing that concept even better for myself as well. While I often grow tired and go to bed around 10 or 10:30, Wendy and I stayed up until 11:30 working on flashcards. We were both thoroughly engaged. The best part was that the TV was blaring behind her and while it normally sucks her in, she completely tuned it out and focused on the other task at hand. When we went off to bed, we made plans to “do more numbers tomorrow.” I also surreptitiously tested her to figure out what her alphabet skills are. Unfortunately, they seem to be weaker than her number ones.

As I went off to bed, my mind began to churn. I’ve thought a good deal about education in the past. I believe fairly firmly that one’s early experience with learning and school lays a strong foundation for the rest of one’s life. People flourish with praise. So, if they go to school and are told they are smart and capable, they’ll become even more so. Unfortunately, I think the converse can also be true. Thus, even though Wendy might learn her ABCs and numbers in school this fall, it would be better if she already had a grasp of them before she started…this would increase her chances of being identified as one of the “smart kids.”

Likewise, learning (especially this kind) does not need to be done from a desk or be boring. It can be done in the form of simple games. Wendy is incredibly competitive and I intend to use that to our advantage! I also intend to begin informal lessons in the evening with her and some of the other kids who hang around. They’re different ages, but I’m confident I can keep each one occupied with a worthwhile activity that is individually challenging. There are some random paintbrushes lying around, so I’m going to use those tonight to do water painting. My mom used to have Emma and me use water and paintbrushes to make pictures on the cement when we were little—we thought it was tons of fun and mom thought it was a great way to paint sans mess (she fooled us a lot when we were little). This will be a cheap and easy way to practice writing letters and numbers and will ideally capture their attention. I’m excited to try this exercise and to develop other ones over the course of the summer.