Back to School
“Show me your papers!” We were forewarned, but we did not heed the advice. Getting our boys ready and registered for school was quite the ordeal. Ecuadorians are sticklers for details. The Department of Education had to approve and verify the official registration papers for the boys to go to school – we needed transcripts and attendance records from their elementary/middle school – as well as passport type photos and a medical clearance. Fortunately for us, they did not ask for their immunization records (standard fair in US schools). I guess the Ecuadorians did not learn their lesson from the European spread of smallpox.
After much debate, discussion and deliberation, we decided on a private, bi-lingual school as the best option for the boys, and it’s been quite the culture shock. However, to listen to Garrett, school is “it’s exactly the same,” but that’s just Garrett. I still wonder if he realizes they are speaking another language.
After spending hours at the school and coming away a $1000 lighter on uniforms, tuition, transportation and various fees, the boys were finally registered. Hundreds more on a plethora of textbooks would soon follow. Yet, this was only the beginning; it was followed by the marathon Back to School shopping extravaganza – Ecuadorian style.
We were given a list of supplies to purchase where each boy had to get 13 separate and specific notebooks all covered and correctly labeled. Not just any notebooks, but very specific types - 100 pages lined, 60 pages squared (graphed), 69 pages bound, tied and gagged – or so I felt after hours and hundreds of dollars later. There were even a vast variety of specific name brand items of supplies to purchase for the school. It was like paying a dowry for the privilege to attend Ambato’s premier private school.
Other than the uniforms, the one other thing Garrett did say was different was getting to school. Classes start shortly after 7 and the bus picks up the boys at 6:45, so mornings are crazy. The first wake up call is at 6am, this for a pair who were used to waking at up at 7:30 or 8:00 and being driven to school. And these bleary-eyed children do not have the luxury of mindlessly running out the door to a waiting bus, no! Every morning they must dodge the demolition derby that is morning traffic in Ambato. I would rather have them participate in the running of the bulls (which they could do on every Monday - market day – when farmers bring their livestock, even bulls, by hoof and by truck through the city) than to navigate the drivers’ first right of way approach in Ecuador. At home, we have signs in the roadway that say “yield to pedestrians” with a nice silhouette of a parent walking his/her child to school. Here in Ecuador, they have signs that say “cross at your own risk” with a picture of the skull and crossbones. But apparently, this is sport for the Ecuadorians even far more popular than futbol, and they start even younger. As I walk my 10 and 13 year to their bus stop, children half their age (and a third of their size) are negotiating an intersection (alone) that can only be described as Gladiators meet Transformers meets NASCAR. Perhaps this is their training for futbol… an oncoming defender is child’s play compared to a barreling dump truck. As if that were not enough – they add on 20lbs of books in their backpacks to make it more interesting (better for training I guess). And the school buses are some of the worse violators (they come to a “rolling stop” as the boys hop on). Perhaps it’s a prelude to the onslaught they face when they get to school.
And what an onslaught it was. No slack for the gringos. For a bilingual school, they do not make many accommodations for the English speaking contingent. Grant had some difficulties adjusting after his appendectomy surgery – you might think they would take it easy on him, but on his first day he was switched from class to class several times, not quite the way to help a new, non-Spanish speaking kid who missed the first week of school because of emergency surgery, and it only got worse. “Grant, donde esta su tarea artistico? No comprendo senor.” “Where’s your art homework?” “Lo siento senor, I was not here last week sir, I had major surgery.” “That’s no excuse, how will you ever be able to draw straight lines if you do not complete your art homework? WHAT! You are using a #2 pencil? What fool in his right mind would ever use a # 2 pencil to draw straight lines?” It has become clear why they obsessively listed their school supplies for 13 different notebooks and #4H pencils, because the fall of civilization (and straight lines) depend on it. “Bonjour Monsieur Grant, where is your French book?” “I was told I would have until next week to get it.” “For other students yes, but since you are so behind in French, you will have to work twice as hard to catch up, because speaking French is so important here in Ecuador!” It may be ganging up on gringo time, or just how they treat all their new students who miss the first week of school because of major surgery. Grant has recovered from his surgery very well; I hope he recovers as quickly from this encounter.
This episode was even more ironic given our experiences at back to school night (all in Spanish, of course). During the first half of the program, they talked about the need to address kids who were having problems or may be experiencing depression. I guess major surgery doesn’t fit into either of those concerns. What was comforting, however, was that even in Ecuador, parents were jumping to conclusions - complaining about teachers and homework- before the first week was even completed …some things transcend language. What really surprised me, though, was how much faith they put in the gringo to be the class parent in charge of sports. I guess even in Ecuador they figured that a black man was good at sports.
After much debate, discussion and deliberation, we decided on a private, bi-lingual school as the best option for the boys, and it’s been quite the culture shock. However, to listen to Garrett, school is “it’s exactly the same,” but that’s just Garrett. I still wonder if he realizes they are speaking another language.
After spending hours at the school and coming away a $1000 lighter on uniforms, tuition, transportation and various fees, the boys were finally registered. Hundreds more on a plethora of textbooks would soon follow. Yet, this was only the beginning; it was followed by the marathon Back to School shopping extravaganza – Ecuadorian style.
We were given a list of supplies to purchase where each boy had to get 13 separate and specific notebooks all covered and correctly labeled. Not just any notebooks, but very specific types - 100 pages lined, 60 pages squared (graphed), 69 pages bound, tied and gagged – or so I felt after hours and hundreds of dollars later. There were even a vast variety of specific name brand items of supplies to purchase for the school. It was like paying a dowry for the privilege to attend Ambato’s premier private school.
Other than the uniforms, the one other thing Garrett did say was different was getting to school. Classes start shortly after 7 and the bus picks up the boys at 6:45, so mornings are crazy. The first wake up call is at 6am, this for a pair who were used to waking at up at 7:30 or 8:00 and being driven to school. And these bleary-eyed children do not have the luxury of mindlessly running out the door to a waiting bus, no! Every morning they must dodge the demolition derby that is morning traffic in Ambato. I would rather have them participate in the running of the bulls (which they could do on every Monday - market day – when farmers bring their livestock, even bulls, by hoof and by truck through the city) than to navigate the drivers’ first right of way approach in Ecuador. At home, we have signs in the roadway that say “yield to pedestrians” with a nice silhouette of a parent walking his/her child to school. Here in Ecuador, they have signs that say “cross at your own risk” with a picture of the skull and crossbones. But apparently, this is sport for the Ecuadorians even far more popular than futbol, and they start even younger. As I walk my 10 and 13 year to their bus stop, children half their age (and a third of their size) are negotiating an intersection (alone) that can only be described as Gladiators meet Transformers meets NASCAR. Perhaps this is their training for futbol… an oncoming defender is child’s play compared to a barreling dump truck. As if that were not enough – they add on 20lbs of books in their backpacks to make it more interesting (better for training I guess). And the school buses are some of the worse violators (they come to a “rolling stop” as the boys hop on). Perhaps it’s a prelude to the onslaught they face when they get to school.
And what an onslaught it was. No slack for the gringos. For a bilingual school, they do not make many accommodations for the English speaking contingent. Grant had some difficulties adjusting after his appendectomy surgery – you might think they would take it easy on him, but on his first day he was switched from class to class several times, not quite the way to help a new, non-Spanish speaking kid who missed the first week of school because of emergency surgery, and it only got worse. “Grant, donde esta su tarea artistico? No comprendo senor.” “Where’s your art homework?” “Lo siento senor, I was not here last week sir, I had major surgery.” “That’s no excuse, how will you ever be able to draw straight lines if you do not complete your art homework? WHAT! You are using a #2 pencil? What fool in his right mind would ever use a # 2 pencil to draw straight lines?” It has become clear why they obsessively listed their school supplies for 13 different notebooks and #4H pencils, because the fall of civilization (and straight lines) depend on it. “Bonjour Monsieur Grant, where is your French book?” “I was told I would have until next week to get it.” “For other students yes, but since you are so behind in French, you will have to work twice as hard to catch up, because speaking French is so important here in Ecuador!” It may be ganging up on gringo time, or just how they treat all their new students who miss the first week of school because of major surgery. Grant has recovered from his surgery very well; I hope he recovers as quickly from this encounter.
This episode was even more ironic given our experiences at back to school night (all in Spanish, of course). During the first half of the program, they talked about the need to address kids who were having problems or may be experiencing depression. I guess major surgery doesn’t fit into either of those concerns. What was comforting, however, was that even in Ecuador, parents were jumping to conclusions - complaining about teachers and homework- before the first week was even completed …some things transcend language. What really surprised me, though, was how much faith they put in the gringo to be the class parent in charge of sports. I guess even in Ecuador they figured that a black man was good at sports.
Back to School