I received a phone call from a complete stranger claiming to be Peace Corp volunteer who had pulled my resume out of cyber space. She was looking for teachers on the behalf of a bilingual elementary school in San Marcos de Ocotopeque, Honduras. There was an alarming lack of questioning on both ends of the line. I was exceedingly open about my under qualification. Rebecca informed me of the dire state of the Honduran education system. Apparently the 18 years I spent in a considerably less dysfunctional system (I never thought I would say that about public education in the US, particularly not mine), and a college degree qualified me for the job. Basically the conversation was as follows:
Alleged PCV with supposed authority in the matter: Do you want to move to Honduras to teach some kids?
Me: How much will it cost me?
Alleged PCV: The school will fly you here and back.
Me: Deal.
Alleged PCV: See you in three weeks.
Impetuous indeed. But let me reiterate, if you buy me a plane ticket, I will go just about anywhere.
All the questions I should have asked before leaving my country were answered upon my arrival in San Marcos. After meeting PCV Rebecca, the school master, the other teachers, and the school itself, I had a clearer understanding of the series of events and relationships that brought me here, and of my own qualifications for the job.
Green Valley is the pretentious rich kid school, funded by parents who, much to Olga’s delight, believe La Green to be a superior alternative to the public schools where there are 50 children per class and the teachers are constantly on strike. I find it rather disturbing that I am factually of this “superior” institution. But considering the fourth grade teacher, a Honduran native, does not know how to round to the nearest hundred or use a comma, I suppose I am comparatively qualified. What’s more, I am not on strike every other week because the government hasn’t paid my wage in a number of months, which is the case with all the public schools. This, however, does not make me feel better about my inadequacy as a third-grade teacher. My level of education may exceed that of a number of the other teachers here, as I have mastered a third-grade skill set, but I feel an irreconcilable guilt when looking at a room full of faces that deserve Floy Schuft (expert in the field of teaching small children) and they got me. Poor things. With virtually no experience, no teaching background, no background check, I have been handed a group of children to mold. Everyday I think how I must be screwing them up. I only hope my inevitable mistakes don’t result in any long-term effects or psychological disorders.