I’ve probably made this same rant
to twelve other volunteers over the past eight months. And I’m quite certain that it’s better heard
than read, but here goes.
Sometimes, it is very frustrating
to work in Perú. Today for example, I
helped my health post fluoridate the teeth of the children of the kindergarten
and preschool (it’s called incial). Fluoridation
is not an especially fun process. A
plastic mouth guard that is ill-fitting is filled with cotton and fluoridation
paste. This is then stuffed into the
children’s mouths. I will be the first
to admit that it is not pleasant. But
you know what’s worse? Having no teeth.
So my idea of a good policy is to say, suck it up. Is that what the health post does? No, if the kid doesn’t want to have their
teeth fluoridated there’s a three step process of trying to convince them.
Step 1: Threaten them with a
shot. This one is my favorite, because
in approximately three months we will return to the school to give these
selfsame children shots. During the next
round we will try to convince them that the shot won’t hurt, which of course
they will believe because it’s not like they’ve been previously threatened with
a shot. I personally am hoping that when a child is crying because they don’t
want a shot, they are threatened with fluoridation, because wouldn’t that just
be beautifully cyclical?
Step 2: Try to bribe them with
candy or balloons. Does the teacher or
nurse actually have candy or balloons to distribute? Most definitely not. But what’s a lie said in the name of
fluoridation?
Step 3: Give up. This is what really gets me. Because you know who is going to advocate for
these kids’ teeth? No one. The parents have most likely not been told
that the fluoridation was happening today, and as such will not know if their
child wasn’t fluoridated. Even if the
parent did know, would they understand the implications? No, because fluoridation is explained as
teeth-cleaning, not as the application of a chemical that strengthens tooth
enamel and protects teeth form cavities.
And why, in Perú, is it so
important that kids get as much help as they can with their teeth? Because few
children brush their teeth on a regular basis.
Because sugar is added to every
beverage-water, tea, milk, juice, you name it, it has sugar added to it.
Because when a kid gets a cavity here and their tooth turns brown and rotting,
their family most likely doesn’t have the money to take him or her to the
dentist to have it pulled. So they’ll go
to the health post and be given ibuprofen as a pain reliever until the tooth
rots away and falls out.
My day then continues with me going
to the high school to do the last Pasos class before vacation. Wednesday afternoons have proven to hard
afternoons to wrangle the kids. Class always seems to be canceled for one
reason or another. Today proves to be no
different. I walk to my classroom,
lugging the whiteboard I take in and out at the beginning and end of the hour.
(I once left it in the classroom/auditorium for a week, foolishly believing it
would be safe, only to return to discover that someone had punched a giant hole
in the middle.) I spot the three boys in
the class playing soccer. I decide to
find the girls first in order to let them play for a bit longer. (I once walked
onto the field and held the ball until they agreed to come to class, but that’s
not an especially popular move.) But alas, the girls are nowhere to be
found. So I walk to the principal’s
office and casually ask if classes have been suspended or canceled for the
afternoon. No, no, of course not, we
have classes like normal, I’m told.
Really, because, and I am not exaggerating here, there is not a single
teacher in a single classroom and half the student body is off of school grounds. This is classes as usual? And the sad thing is that yes, this is
classes as usual. The education system
in Perú, especially rural Perú, is abysmal.
The high school starts at 7:30 am
(really 8 am) and gets out at 1:20 pm.
That is technically six hours, which isn’t terrible. But classes don’t start at 7:30 and there’s a
twenty-minute recess midday, which always lasts for thirty minutes. That basically cuts out an hour. So now we have five hours. But really the last class of the day is a joke,
so that’s 4 hours and twenty minutes.
That’s four hours and twenty minutes of mediocre teaching. And the teaching is mediocre. Teachers with skills and knowledge get the
heck out of dodge and find jobs teaching in Lima where the pay is better. Anyone who wants to go the university who
graduated from a rural town or city goes to junior college in Lima for two
years because in no way, shape, or form are they ready for the university. Also, the age of graduation assuming the
child hasn’t been held back (did I mention that you can bribe the school to
stop your child from being held back a year?), is sixteen. They’re pushed into official adulthood two
years earlier than their counterparts in the developed world with significantly
fewer resources.
And I don’t see how it’s going to
change. Definitely not because of me,
and certainly not while I’m here. What
is the key moment, the key event that will push Perú towards development? There is none, because behavior change is a
long struggle of frustration filled with good intentions, misunderstandings,
and lost opportunities. And I know that,
I theoretically accept that, but what the fuck sometimes, you know?
And to top it all off, I am scared
that I am going to spend two years here, struggling with the lack of education,
with the misappropriation of funds (money being spent on new desks instead of
on new whiteboards, chairs, and computers for the schools, instead of on
internet, soap, and materials for the health post, instead of water treatment,
instead of on expanding the garbage truck’s route, and instead of on paying off
the back wages of the townspeople who clean the town’s streets), with the lack
of care of children by parents who don’t know better, and with the acceptance
of a flawed world as it is, only to return home to a country that has the same
problems. And that really scares me,
because it would be so hard to rebuild what could be lost.
Besos, I guess.
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