There are a lot of things about life in Ecuador that are different from what I am accustomed to in the U.S. For instance, the people here are a lot touchier, and even greetings with complete strangers manifest themselves in kisses on the cheek or awkward, extra-manual body contact between dudes. Most of the differences are easy to get used to because they simply involve learning a customary courtesy or accepting the fact that people in this country put ketchup on everything, but others have more profound implications on the way I live my life on a daily basis. One of the most difficult adjustments for me has been dealing with Ecua-time.
Ecuadorians have shown themselves to be a warm and welcoming people, but they are not celebrated organizers. I'm currently learning this first-hand as I deal with the start of my next semester teaching at SECAP.
Since SECAP is a trade school, the students are of all ages and they sign up independently for individual semesters of classes. Because registration is semester-by-semester and the teachers at the school frequently move in and out of positions, it is up to the students to remember on their own when classes start and to sign up for them. To help recruit students every semester, SECAP puts out ads in the paper when the new semester starts.
This semester, the administration neglected to put out any advertisements for the classes. The result was that I had three students show up for my first class.
The cultural difference was immediately highlighted when I brought up the fact that there were only three students in my class to the administration. "Don't worry,"they told me "more students will sign up over the next couple of weeks."
In the U.S., the first day of class is the one that everyone attends. It is when the teacher has the opportunity to lay out all the rules and expectations for the class, and set the tone early on about how the class will run and what the students can expect from the course. One of the areas I skimped on in my first semester was not clearly establishing all the rules of the course on the first day. The result was that I had students who would come in late to class and miss test days with no real consequences other than a stern talking to.
This semester I was determined to get it right so I wrote up all the rules clearly outlining how the class would operate and the repercussions for things like missed tests and coming to class late. I ironed my shirt and debuted a new sportcoat so the students would know from the start that I'm a boss. I was all ready to give my first class and kick off the new semester on the right foot when only three people showed up.
I have no problem teaching a class of three people. In fact, it would be a great class for the students because they would have much more talking time with me. What I do have a problem with is having students come in a week after classes have started so that they are already behind and down a week of attendance.
In the U.S., we place a high value on scheduling and promptness. The American in me wanted to go on a tirade about how we have a schedule and the students should have all already been registered long before the teacher came in for the first day of class, but then I remembered that I am not in America.
The only way to survive living abroad is to roll with the punches and adopt the local attitudes, so I holstered my frustration and came to an agreement with the administration to push everything back a week so we can get more students, inform them when classes begin, and start this semester the right way. The more time I spend here the more my Ecuador is beginning to show, so let's just hope that I adjust back to American-time when I head back Stateside.
Homestay Horrors
Since I have not been working this week due to the delay of the start of the semester, I have been spending a lot of time in my house. The extended family was back in Ambato visiting, so I got to share some warm memories with the children of the family who never cease to astound me with their ability to have multiple distinct crying episodes in a single minute.
Yesterday morning I was woken up by the sound of the youngest kid crying in the bathroom right outside my door. The reason? He was taking a dump and he was screaming for his dad to come wipe his butt. At 7:30 in the morning.
There is an old saying in my family that sums up how I feel about this situation. It goes, "If you can't wipe your own ass, don't take a shit at 7:30 in the morning."
Tonight I was scavenging in the kitchen for leftovers from lunch when I found that there was still some chicken soup left. I poured myself a few ladles and a hunk of unidentified chicken meat and began distractedly eating it while checking my e-mail.
Halfway through the soup I picked up the chicken part and tried to find some meat on it. I was biting different promising areas, but coming up short each time. I started looking more closely at the piece of meat in my hand and noticed a flap of skin that was hanging off in a weird way. It had ridges on it and I thought it looked a lot like the floppy thing that chickens have on their heads. Then I noticed a slit that looked like an eye socket. Then, about 30 seconds later that I should have, I realized that I was in fact sucking on a chicken head.
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| "I'm watching you!" |
When it finally hit me that I was eating a chicken head it freaked me out and I actually jumped in my seat a little. Again, I was shown in dramatic fashion how American I really am by being scared by finding a chicken part in my chicken soup.
I eat chicken all the time in the U.S., but because our culture (at least in N.Y.) has managed to put so much distance between the living bird and what ends up on our plates, I am still thrown by seeing meat that reminds me that it came from a live creature.
And if you think this image is going to give you nightmares, wait until I upload a picture of a whole guinea pig being roasted on a skewer. Trips to the pet store will never be the same.
yummy
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