Shades of Grey

Ok, so most of what I have written thus far has been fairly objective, even journalistic, but I think that it is due time that I record some thoughts for those of you who would be interested.

To begin with, school is school.
I go every day, hoping that, through some miraculous incident, somebody learns something.
The kids that are chosen for this particular school are all very poorly behaved, and I'm not talking about talking back to the teacher. There are kids who are extremely violent (I've already been hit, kicked and bitten more times than I can count.) And there are kids who, from an outsiders perspective would seem to have lost their tiny little minds. Yesterday, one of the children got it into his head that he was simply not going to do anything. This is not an unusual occurrence, but the difference is that he decided to scream at the top of his lungs and run about wildly instead. With no exaggeration, this child screamed for hours on end, for no apparent reason other than he simply felt like it. And that's just one kid.

That being said, I do not want to make it seem as if my job is horrendous. There are very beautiful moments, constructing a solar system out of styrofoam and scrap wood, watching the kids help each other clean the room after class, and watching a student complete a problem on the board that he/she was not able to complete yesterday. Enjoyment, compassion, and progress. Devotionals are my favorite time of the day. It is the time when we are not barking orders at the children, but expressing to them how much God loves them, and how much we love them too. It is the time at the beginning of the day when I get to look at each child in the face and remember that they are human beings with worth and potential. And then they start screaming profanities at each other. So it goes.

Home life is nice, too. I live in a part of town that never lets me forget what poverty is, or any of the emotions that go along with it. There is fear, as I walk alone at night, but I have a destination with a lock on the door. A luxury I do not take for granted. There is a sense of entrapment, as I see the same gentlemen sleeping outside my window every night, knowing full well that without a shower, new clothes and a haircut, they will never pass as fit for the workforce. There is a sense of invisibility, as people, myself included pass them by with neither the time or resources to assist them in any meaningful way. If you make eye contact, they are sure to ask...so everyone finds it easier to ignore them.

As I have said, I do have a roommate. His name is Ryan, and he hails from the great state of Ohio. He and I get along really well, but that is really of no consequence, seeing as how most of our time is spent with Ferney, the 8-year-old that we are (comically) responsible for. I'm not saying that I'm a parent, I'm just saying that I can begin to empathize. His story is one of the most heartbreaking that I have ever heard, and I almost have pity on him, until he rips up his homework and throws it down the stairs, laughing maniacally. If any part of my spanish has improved, it has been my commands. Sit at the table, do your homework, don't touch that, etc. He is really a good kid. Today he woke me up at the crack of dawn to tell me that he had cleaned his room. On the one hand, I am up waaaay before I would like to be, and I am not happy about it, but on the other hand, his room is pristine, and he's rather proud of it. So I smile, tell him he did a great job, he's a wonderful kid, now go bother Ryan.

Before coming here, I pictured this whole experience as being very very emotionally trying. I would be confronted with heart-wrenching situations at every turn, and every one would be an innocent victim of the system. This, I hoped would solidify my conceptions of universal right and wrong, of purpose and of the world at large. However, I have found, as I imagine most do in my situation, that this was an overestimation. Poverty is certainly an elusive thing to define; we create words like "abject" and "relative" to attempt to convey its nuances. No, I am not working with children dying of AIDS or hunger or anything else, but I am working with children in need. Yes, there are children in need where I lived in the states, but does one justify oneself by claiming that there is more need here? If so, why not always move on to the greater need.

They are legitimate questions that I have no answers to, and exploring them only reveals more uncertainty, but this I do know: There is something very transforming about seeing poverty with one's own eyes, and for that transformation to have any longevity, one must be constantly surrounding oneself with these questions, these issues, and these people. I have very few distractions here, and if that transformation is to take place, it is more likely that it will happen here, in the squatter settlements and displacement camps where there is no escape from the reality of the situation, rather than the streets of Chicago or Dallas, where I can simply cross the street or walk to a nicer part of town.

Well, it's time for me to go to the bread store and buy breakfast, I have another day of school ahead of me, and the kids have learned that they can attach themselves to my legs, and go wherever I do without having to work at it, so I'll need the energy.

Tyler