Interning with AHA Bolivia: Jeffers Guthrie

When I volunteered for this program I had almost no knowledge of Spanish besides the menial skill of being able to crudely count to ten. In the months leading up to my departure I experienced constant self-doubt. And for obvious reason. I would be traveling internationally for the first time on my own, and entering a foreign country with an entirely different culture and environment. A country that has been voted one of the most unfriendly to foreigners, not to mention that the majority of its population speaks only Spanish. My only solace was that I had taken Latin for 4 years, an unspoken language that I was told would greatly improve my ability to learn this new language.

This anxiety followed me, unwavering, throughout my journey to and arrival in Bolivia. On the flight from Miami to La Paz everything around me seemed to confirm my helplessness. Even the flight crew did not speak English! The difficulty and nervousness I encountered when trying to decipher the immigration forms compounded my feelings. Everyone and everything seemed to be hostile and new. All I wanted to do was to turn around and go back to the safety and comforts of home. Going through immigration everyone seemed to look down on me for being a “gringo”. When I was met by the people escorting me to my next flight their first question was, “How is your Spanish?” Defeatedly I answered, “zero.” The answer hit me far harder than the altitude sickness I was feeling. I was supposed to be coming to this country to teach; how was I going to communicate with these children, let alone teach them math skills, knowing so little of their language?

Arriving in Cochabamba was the greatest culture shock. There was almost nothing familiar that I could hold onto to give me some hope of success, at least in the way I perceived it. I felt completely overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and, of course the language, especially knowing I would be there for a month, the longest time I had ever been away from my family. Upon my arrival we headed directly to the office from where we would be heading the Khan program. I met Elahdio and Jose, and sat idly by, watching nervously as they taught the kids effortlessly in fluent Spanish. I looked at the kids, understanding none of the sounds that flowed from their lips. Once again questions of doubt flooded my brain.  It was intimidating to say the least.

The next morning was when the ‘fun’ really began. I had my first Spanish lesson, which was both encouraging and discouraging. I realized I knew more than I had originally thought, but there was also the realization that I was learning kindergarten level Spanish. Equipped with a few simple phrases, I prepared to begin the task of tutoring fluent Spanish speakers in mathematics. With broken words and sentences I helped the kids sign up for Khan Academy and begin learning. I looked around. Everyone around me seemed to be able to approach and teach the kids with ease. I looked around for someone who was struggling. In the corner I saw a little boy who was having difficulty with fractions. Nervously and cautiously I approached him, greeted him and asked his name. “Fernando,” he replied in a quiet voice. I could easily read the nervousness and shyness in his voice and face. But there was also the keen and almost desperate desire to learn and understand. It felt familiar. I looked over the problem. It seemed to be simple enough. In single words and poor attempts at pronunciation I explained to him that a fraction was equal to part over the whole. In this case red rectangles over the total sum of all the rectangles. As I spoke he seemed to read in me what I had read in him -- a feeling of nervousness and apprehension, and it put him at ease. His expression was one of contemplation, that slowly gravitated to understanding. Quickly, as though afraid he might forget, he scribbled ⅗ down on the whiteboard.  I smiled, relieved, and said with a terrible accent “Si! Muy bien!” He entered in the answer and a smiley face appeared on the answer button, which he quickly mirrored.  I found the rest of the session, while a challenge, very enjoyable and very gratifying. Leaving the session, I allowed a smile to creep onto my face; I knew that I would be able to contribute here.

Over the past few weeks teaching has only gotten better. My desire to help these children who are faced with a very limited educational system and few opportunities has grown. Although I still constantly need to ask my fellow volunteers for vocabulary, somehow I have been able to teach the kids and impact them in a positive way. The students enjoy my poor attempts at the language and they are learning the material, even calling me back to explain something they don’t understand. Despite our very different backgrounds, we are connected. Because of my limited Spanish I think they see me not as a symbol of authority or intimidation but as someone who is just as hungry for knowledge as they are.

Interning with AHA Bolivia: Vicente Nagel

This being my first time volunteering with the Bolivia4ward program, I knew very little of what to expect throughout my time here. All I really knew in regards to my involvement in the program was that I would be assisting Bolivian children and teens in expanding their math knowledge using the Khan Academy website. My lack of knowledge about the project compounded with my lack of confidence in my Spanish-speaking abilities and my inexperience as a teacher instilled in me an apprehension that followed me from the time I departed from Chicago all the way to the first time I decided to sit down next to a student in need of some extra assistance with a tricky problem.

Coming out of a full week of teaching, however, I have to say that I couldn’t be more thankful for the opportunity to participate in the program from the perspective of a nervous foreigner and a true newcomer to the field of education. What I began to realize, and what became my mantra every time I felt overwhelmed by a particularly difficult concept to explain, was that the girls and boys whom I was teaching weren’t here to judge me on my Spanish or scold me for making a simple mathematical mistake—they were here to learn about math just as I was here to learn about their culture and language. The moment I realized this simple fact was the moment that the program turned from a daunting test of mathematical skill and command of the Spanish language to a mutual journey for knowledge.

In this new reality, what I had attributed as my weaknesses turned out to be the biggest advantages that I could muster in the quest for truly understanding how best to impact the lives of these bright children that I had the joy of surrounding myself with. The feelings of unease and self-consciousness that I experienced as I tried my best to appear as someone who was fit to teach a roomful of children mathematical concepts, while stumbling through the most elementary of Spanish phrases was the same exact feeling that my students had. Just as I had felt that I wasn’t worthy to be teaching math in Spanish to a bunch of native Spanish speakers, the students felt as though they weren’t worthy of asking for math help from someone who they assumed was a master of the material. When they saw me bumble around and asking my fellow volunteers for help with vocab or with some insight as to how to explain a topic as simple as division, the intimidating nature of my presence was replaced with the notion that I, just like them, had a lot to learn.

This realization from them made learning less about saving oneself from the embarrassment of failure and more about learning alongside someone who was truly as clueless in other topics as they had convinced themselves that they were in math. Instead of looking confused at some nonsensical Spanish phrase that I had thrown together in an attempt at basic communication, they would help me work through what I was trying to say, offering encouraging words when they could tell that I was embarrassed about my butchering of their language. I would say things like “Lo siento, mi español es muy malo,” and they would instantly respond with “No! No! Es bueno!,” and offer back a smile that made it seem as if they were grateful to know that I wasn’t some perfect human being who was there to force them to learn what they assumed must be expected of people to know where I come from.

Perhaps the most important thing that I have learned from helping these kids with their math is that the best way to teach someone effectively and to open their minds to accepting failure is to connect with them on an equal playing field, making it apparent that you are learning just as much from them as they are from you. I think that, if more people realized that they can learn something from every single person out there, they would realize just how equal we all are at a basic, human level, and be more driven to ensure that every person has a chance at achieving their full potential. What the Salman Khan espouses in his Khan Academy manifesto, The One World Schoolhouse, and what I have experienced first hand with the Bolivia4ward project, is that it is for everybody’s best interest to make quality education accessible to every person out there because not doing so could be depriving the world of some of its greatest innovators and game changers whose full potential was being oppressed at the hands of societal boundaries such as class and financial status. All in all, this experience has most definitely left me with a drive to level the playing field for all who have a will to learn.