Gringo In Peru

Another month has come and gone at the English factory.

While we are like a big after-school program in English, students do pass and fail. Sometimes they barely pass and should have failed. Some just plain fail and can’t believe they have to repeat.

This month I had an accelerated daily course. This class studies four hours a night covering two classes worth of material in one month. These options are slowly becoming more popular at the institute, but they do take a lot of time.

This particular class had been (mostly) studying together since the first level. Many of my colleagues had taught this class and knew all the characters. This month it was my turn. This class skewed a little older than average. There were only 15 students including four students in their late 40s/early 50s and one guy in his 60s, we’ll call him Willy (not his real name).

Since this class is accelerated, students take two tests (one for each level) and their grades are averaged and rounded up. Willy tried hard, but on our last test he got a zero. Not a good zero either. He left most of the test blank. What’s sad is he did alright on the first test. Since his second test score was so low, he ended up with a total test grade of zero. Needless to say, Willy’s effort really slipped in the second half of class and he failed.

He knew it was coming, he took it really well for a while. Willy shook my hand and thanked me. Then he started to tell his classmates (remember they have been studying together for six months) and they were upset and started to tear up a little bit. Even Willy was a little teary, but he seemed to be holding it back.

When I shared this story with my co-workers, many of whom have taught this class before, one they said it was a good thing that I failed him. Willy had low scores for a while and would have been lost going into the next level. It made me look like the bad guy though. They didn’t have the guts to fail him. I did.

It’s a different story at the institute in the early afternoon. Most of our students are teenagers. Many see their 90 minute English class as social hour. They are busy talking, flirting and taking long bathroom breaks where they chat in the halls with their friends.

These students want all the points they possibly can get, because they don’t study. They try to work any angle they can to manipulate you and the system. Many are good students, try and get a good grades. Others goof off so much that when it comes to the end of class they need a perfect score on the oral test to pass. They beg and plead for it, but their English isn’t good enough and they fail.

Others are elated that they barely pass (and I mean barely pass). The girls usually  scream like I was Joe Jonas and kiss me on the cheek. Kissing is the customary way of saying hello here, but the students never, ever greet me that way.

It’s the ups and downs of being a teacher I guess.

Saturday we went to kermess (like a school carnival) at Vanessa’s school. It was a lot of fun, and nothing like any other school carnival I’ve even been to.

The field of games

Her school is very close to the house and relatively small by Peruvian private school standards. That’s not such a bad thing though. After walking in the door we were ushered into the field-turf playground that was packed with games, bungee jumping, a massive inflatable slide, face painting and other carnival activities.

There was also a huge stage for bingo, performances and other things.

Carnival rides at the school carnival

As we walked closer to the classrooms a mock food court was set up selling all kinds of food from American fast food (KFC, BK, Pizza Hut), Peruvian favorites (anticucho, picarones), sushi, cotton candy and ice cream. Of course we indulged in most of it.

Off to the side of the school they had set up two rickety carnival rides. There was a video arcade set up in the cafeteria. The kids were having plenty of fun.

Under just off the soccer field was a staircase leading to the underground gym. In the gym was a student art show. I’m no art lover, but the works were amazing. The school is an international baccalaureate school, which tends to use different methodology in some areas.

After seeing this art show I don’t know why you wouldn’t send your child to an IB/immersion school like Vanessa’s. (Her students are taught in English.) They would be exposed to so much, be bi-lingual and ready for the ever changing world.

Another neat thing about the school is that they accept handicapped kids. Not all private schools in Peru do and I’m told many public school’s are not equipped to do so. It was a lot of fun seeing kids with disabilities laugh, play and be accepted by their peers. They are obviously accepted by the school and their peers as equals.

It felt like Vanessa knew everyone student in the school. All of her students came up to say hi to me, but the older and younger students all talked with Vanessa. She seems very popular there and very at home. Vanessa told me the principal wants her to stay next year. That will only happen if Uncle Sam doesn’t come through.

Last week we had some American friends visit us in our little corner of the developing world.

Jodi (left) Lauren (right) standing in a tree

My sister’s friend Jodi and her cousin Lauren spent time in Lima, Cusco/Macchu Picchu and Puno (Lake Titicaca). They were here two weeks, most of their time was spent on the road. They did however enjoy the sights and sounds of Lima.

When they got to Lima they were in relax mode after traveling for so long. We took them different places around town and they had an informal tour. Lauren really enjoyed the pirated DVD’s and CD’s at rock bottom prices.

Besides see the sights, we fed them… a lot. Vanessa was always running them to a different restaurant or the supermarket to “try this” and “taste that”. They both really seemed to dig Peruvian food. You’ve got to understand it truly is like nothing you are used to and its not tacos and burritos. Everything is fresh, nothing comes out of a can. That makes such a difference.

Of course, they didn’t like everything, but that’s to be expected. They were a big hit with the family and with us. It was nice to see friends here. It’s not the first time we’ve had Americans visit, and it certainly won’t be the last. One of my aunts is seriously talking about taking a trip here over New Year’s.

When are you coming?

It’s October and that means its Purple Jesus season.

We were invited to attend a special mass this morning by a member of the order that oversees the processions. He used to work with my father-in-law.

Senor de los Milagros arrives

Our wake-up call came early 4:30 a.m. We were downtown by 5:30 for the 6:30 mass. As we got closer to where we were suppose to be, we saw all these people walking. There were also police everywhere and streets were barricaded.

We met our host before sunrise at the brotherhood’s order in downtown Lima. There other brothers were just milling around waiting for the time to come. Then we made the two block walk to the church where the Senor De Los Milagros “lives.

During my time in Peru I’ve heard a few different stories about the origins of Senor De Los Milagros. We do know the original picture was painted by a black slave sometime in the 1600’s. It’s called “Jesus Morado” because Christ’s skin-tone is seen as “purple” by some people. This is because the artist was black and saw his savior as black. This year Senior is celebrating his 358th anniversary.

The original picture was painted on a wall that survived a major earthquake. All the buildings around it were turned to dust, except for the picture. It’s survival is a miracle. Since then people have asked Senior for special favors. You are suppose to ask for something small. I’ve been told by many non-church goers that if you ask your wish will be granted.

This history is a big vague since nobody can really tell me the story. From what I’ve gathered from the internet there is no true story and the legend has grown overtime.

The church where senior "lives"

The original painting is part of an altar inside a closed Catholic church in downtown Lima. Only nuns and certain people can see the original. I’ve included a YouTube video showing the original painting and good pictures of the frenzy that follows the procession.

On this day we didn’t stick around for the procession, but we did go to mass. Since we were there with a special invitation we were allowed into a special roped off area. At 6:30 the shrine of the painting came out of the church. This is what you see on YouTube. A crowd had begun to gather outside the church, but it wasn’t bad.

The women carrying incense

The men of the order wear purple cloaks and the women wear purple dresses and white lace on their heads. About a dozen men carry the shrine down the street bobbing as they walk because Jesus is heavy. It is decked out in jewels, silver and gold. I’m told that people who carry it wear through a pair of shoes every time its their turn to carry it. The costume includes a heavy rope, that’s not just for decoration. They pull on it to keep their backs straight.

The women can’t carry it, so they follow it with incense. It burned throughout the mass, giving the heavy Lima air a floral and charcoal scent.

People sang, cried and cheered for Senor. Then it came time for Communion.

The shrine made it our way and we were very close, compared to last year.

We stayed for most of mass. We left when they started handing communion. The mass was so large, priests came into the the crowd and people who wanted to take part raised their hands.

Once we got outside of the rope line we found out our early morning mass had grown into a mass of humanity. There were people everywhere. They were attentive, quiet and not moving. Navigating through the crowd would be a claustrophobic’s nightmare. Rock concerts and sporting events have nothing on this crowd.

A shaky picture of the crowd

We had barely made it into the crowd when I felt a someone pushing me and grabbing my free hand. I knew it wasn’t Vanessa because she was in front of me. I turned around to find a woman in her 60’s clutching on to me for dear life. I’m sure she saw the opening to move and grabbed the gringo. So we navigated the uneven streets of downtown Lima together. Whenever we came to a cross street she would ask somebody in the crowd what street we were on. Playing the good guy really slowed me up and I watched Vanessa and family slowly get swallowed up by the crowd.

Don’t worry, I got out OK and the woman thanked me.

Afterwords we went to a breakfast buffet with pancakes. Mmmm… Pancakes aren’t common here in Peru.

In all we had a productive day before 9 a.m., I must say.

I have to take a test.

An English test to be exact.

Last week I got a letter at work “inviting” me to take the ECPE. For those of you who are not wise to test lingo, the ECPE is a test of English proficiency administered by the University of Michigan. The test is for people who learn English as a second or foreign language and want to attend a university in the U.S. The test is designed to make sure students can understand lectures, reading assignments, homework, etc.

When I applied at the institute I had to prove that I had a degree from a U.S. university. At the time, I was told doing this meant I didn’t have to take the test.

Well, they lied. I’m taking the test.

This didn’t go down without a fight.

When I got the letter I asked my boss why. I explained to her everything I just told you adding that my degree is actually in English (English and Mass Communications to be exact.) I’m a native speaker. I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s major plays, dissected Chaucer, waded through The Waste Land, studied Hemmingway and found themes in literary works that I’m sure were not actually there. Did I mention I’m a native speaker?

I also told her that taking the test would be a waste of my time (including travel time on two separate test days, at least 5 hours) and money (about $85 which the institute will conveniently deduct from my check). Not to mention since this test is designed for non-native speakers it is basically worthless to me. Heck, its worthless to me now and I haven’t even taken the thing.

With my case made, my boss seemed to agree and made some phone calls. A few hours later I got the bad news. I had to take the test. The institute wants all its teachers to be certified. The administration wants to brag about the teachers certification, but don’t want to pay for it. Of course, I’ve been working there for eight months without certification. This is the second time they’ve offered the test since I started. Somehow I avoided the first test, but my luck has run out. My education doesn’t matter. My background doesn’t matter. My native-English speaking tongue doesn’t matter.

I was told there was a time when Americans didn’t have to take the test. Now they do because they had Americans fail. While I believe Americans have failed, I’m not buying that argument 100%. There has to be a better reason. Whatever.

The test is next month. I’m not planning on studying.

Another year, another big birthday bash.

Saturday we were invited to Facundo and Valentina’s 2nd birthday party. Loyal readers may remember these scenes from last year’s party. Let’s just say things were bigger and better this year. If this keeps up their 15th birthday will be a candidate for an MTV show.

The venue changed this year, it moved from the backyard to a country club. There was more food, more candy and I think the inflatable slide grew. Seriously, it seemed to be at least six stories tall.

Another addition to the festivities was a floor show. Two girls sang, danced, put on a puppet show and occupied the kids with other games. They did a good job mixing up the activities up and keeping the tots busy.

There were even people wearing Mickey, Minnie and Pluto costumes dancing with the kids. I was standing next to Mickey Mouse when it hit me. I’m towering over these corporate mascots. Whoever was wearing the costume could have been in the crowd five years ago or this company seeks out vertically challenged adults.

As an example of what kind of social circles Vanessa and I sometimes find ourselves in I’m including a picture of kids at the party dancing during the floor show. If you look behind them you see a squad of women in white. Those are the nannies. They watch the kids while mom socializes away from the action.