Sunday, August 13, 2017

The usefulness of what is

"I hate to do this, but we only have 10 minutes left!"
"No you don't, it's your job!"

My job this week was keeping us on schedule, making sure we were well fed (with the support of Maria Teresa and Flor, who helped prepare for weeks), and calling our group on and off of our mini bus every day. It was exhausting, but rewarding. I felt comfortable in my role, despite all the running around and details to keep track of. Give me a trip to plan and a clipboard any day, and I'm your person!

Being host means being a container for an experience, providing spaces. It reminds me of a poem that Debra shared with us once by Lao Tzu:

Thirty spokes are joined together in a wheel
but it is the center hole
that allows the wheel to function.

We mold clay into a pot
but it is the emptiness inside
that makes the vessel useful.

We fashion wood for a house
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable.

We work with the substantial,
but the emptiness is what we use.
The usefulness of what is
depends on what is not.

When our visitors from Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Network and Estrella del Mar arrived this week, the "what is" was ready to be filled. Depending on who you ask, it was an obra that was in the works since 2014, or 2015, or May 2017. We worked on it in concentric circles of objectives, content, participants, costs, funding, materials, scheduling, transportation, food, flights, lodging and buses. We revisited what had been done many times, making small changes and incorporating more details as we went along. 

Speaking for Anne, me, when I got involved as host of the week, this meant weekly meetings not only with Rich (and often Jenny), but also with ConTextos's administration team to make adjustments as we went along. I did my best to keep our communications team informed, but I think for future events this can be more intentional and go even further than Rebecca designing event invitations, posting pictures on our organization's social media, and Ale inviting relevant partners to the conference. Jenny was our representative from the programming team, supported by Carlos and Jackie who invited our teachers and Zoila who reminded us to keep things simple and keep our objectives in mind. As the week took shape, I did my best to designate clear roles for other participating members. However, as the week went on, they often anticipated gaps and took the initiative. For example, the role of translator changed often. They helped enormously to identify and address the needs that emerged during the week, like where to pick up Berfalia on the way to Perquín or giving Lorena a place to stay. The devil is in the details, and everyone stepped up. This paragraph is certainly not exhaustive in terms of the work of our team! 

Having the big things well defined and having several weeks of planning to coax out the other details, like evaluations for the teacher conference, as we talked through the week, made things flow much easier. For future conferences, I think it's important to have visiting participants and flights defined at least a month in advance. Speaking as host and host organization, the uncertainty in numbers and logistics made it difficult to "mold our pot" in terms of creating working teams and making arrangements for each visitor.  I think this will also help bring down what visitors spend on flights! Rex commented that there was very little time to plan for class in Borja; having the certainty of who is participating would create the possibility for communication before landing in the country. 

Using Lao Tzu's metaphor, we had a pretty awesome pot ready for this week. Today, just a day after the action, this is the sensation I have. This week, we need to meet as a ConTextos team to evaluate the other details and what we've achieved as an organization and teacher trainers. One of us will post the summary of that meeting here. 

As usual, thank you for your hearts and believing in people. 



   


No such thing as a coincidence

Precisely on the last day of our week of creative writing for peace, protesters clashed in Charlottesville, VA. White supremacists marched holding torches and chanting "Blood and soil" and "Jew won't replace us." A car drove in a crowd of counter-protesters marching against discrimination and racism, calling for peace.

My Facebook feed is full of scared, angry, outraged people expressing themselves in tweets, articles and statuses. A friend of color admonished her white friends and other "allies" who felt guilty and were trying to claim "not all whites." "Do better," she chastised. I remembered what they taught us about humility in Borja.

Peppered among these posts are pictures from a transformational week of "intentional communication across difference." A week where we named and claimed where we are from and who we are, and sat down to plan together. A week saturated with the realization of our common humanity and our hunger for a more peaceful world. 

In response to Charlottesville, there are repeated calls that these actions and people be labeled for what they are: terror and terrorists. These labels give a moral and legal judgment about what has happened. As the governor of Virginia said, "There is no place for you here." 

I hear echoes of El Salvador. This is the same thing that has been said to youth and gangsters. "We might as well burn down the prisons, with them inside," I've heard people say. "We should just kill them all and be done with it," from others. What do we do with white supremacist terrorists? Prisons are for people who are dangerous to society. Ok, prison. They will likely get out someday, unchanged or more embittered. How many white supremacists (terrorists or not) are there? Will they fit in our prisons? In prison, what is there for them to rehabilitate as individuals? Can we send a whole racist system to prison? 

More questions than answers. But I also know that our society is segregated, and whites (especially white males) are those who have the greatest access to people like those that marched in the "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville. There are not "many sides" to this. There is one side, and it is not the duty of the other side to put itself further in danger, to exhaust itself further, in the resistance. I know many people of color who are there, marching, explaining, speaking up, every day, and that comes with great psychological and spritual cost. Thank you. I also know many white people who feel guilty, who want to say "not me", who just want to be nice people and be done with it. In a meal with my friend's parents recently in Minnesota, they commented about a recent Black Lives Matters march over Philando Castille's murder, that "there should be another way. I don't understand why they have to shut down the highways. Can't they be more peaceful? Some of those people aren't even from Minnesota!" I said nothing, because with Minnesota whites you are Minnesota nice. I was scared that my response would be insufficient, I was angry that I was silent. But that was my moment, that was the opportunity we have every day in our interactions with each other (between white people). 

My job, the organization I work for, exists because we believe in change. We believe in the elasticity of our brains, in personal transformations creating a ripple effect while we work simultaneously to create institutional change in schools and prisons. We believe that the continual falling of a drop of water is stronger than the rock, as Lorena put it so beautifully. We are humans, artists of our lives and collaborators in the society we actively produce every day. 

I will close in expressing that I hope my truth today has not contributed to the hurt of anyone else, and if so, if your energy so permits, I will consider your response as a gift as my truth continues to evolve. 

I. Will. Achieve. My. Dreams.

Aprendí lo importante y precioso que es escuchar, "Yo creo en ti", "Yo te acepto y te escucho". Eso es lo que oí en todos los talleres, lo que respiré en cada micrófono abierto.
Significa que hay un obstáculo menos que superar.
Al principio luchaba contra la simpleza de repetir "I will achieve my dreams".
Pensaba en un país que mejor no sueña, en personas que mejor piensan en sólo lo que parece posible.
Los sistemas locales y globales no trabajan a nuestro favor.
"Así es", me han dicho con un suspiro profundo tantas veces.
Pero si creo en el cambio,
Sí, la mayoría de días creo en el cambio,
También tengo que creer en sueños.

Lo escribo y me suena horriblemente cursi y aún irrealista.
Pero me parece horriblemente horrible un país que no sueña.

____

I learned how importante and precious it is to hear, "I believe in you," "I accept you and am listening." That is what I heard in all the workshops this week, what I breathed in each open mic.
It means that there is one less obstacle to overcome.
At first, I fought against the naivete, the simplicity of repeating, "I will achieve my dreams."
I thought about a country that might as well not dream, in people that might as well think about only what seems possible.
Local and global systems do not work in our favor.
"That's the way it is," they've told me with a deep sigh, so many times.
But if I believe in change,
Yes, most days I do believe in change,
I must also believe in dreams.

I write it and it still sounds horribly cheesy, cliché, and unrealistic.
But it sounds horribly horrible for a country to not dream.



Sunday 7:12am



Sunday 7:12am

Greetings from Casa de Izel, where I am in my last few hours before heading home after the 2017 Bread Loaf – ConTextos Peace Literacy Conference. It has been an extraordinary week. I will do my best in this post to capture the last 48 hours.

On Friday morning, August 11, we left from the ConTextos offices at 6:15am for the five-hour drive up to Perquin, a rural area in the northeast mountains near the Honduran border, in the district named Morazon, to conduct a student workshop. It is an area deeply impacted by the civil war from 1980-1992, but not is considered “the forgotten place.” The town of Perquin has about 2,000 residents, a mix of agricultural workers, and a few wealthy folks who build nice houses in the beautiful area.

On the drive, we crossed the Lempe River, the most important river in El Salvador, and passed through the towns of San Salvador, San Miguel, and San Francisco. There is, of course, a heavy Christian influence here. Many churches, either Catholic or Pentacostal. Many busses and trucks have signs in the top of the winshield praising Jesus. Place names are generally either for saints, or are Nawat (indigenous) names. This was my 3rd San Francisco – after the USA and the Dominican Republic. I wonder how many San Franciscos there are in the world?  We stopped in San Miguel at a place called Lorena’s for sweet breads – Pan Dulce.

Finally we arrived in Perquin, at the Amun Shea School. The name means, approximately, “soul of seeds.”  The school was founded by an American ex-patriate named Ronald Brenneman, who works with a group called the Perkins Educational Opportunities Foundation. Ron has been in El Salvador since the late 1980s and also owns the hotel where we spent the night. The school serves about 120 students from grades K-9, and is intended to be a model for the public schools in the area. They frequently host events such as this one.

We toured the school. The setting is gorgeous, nestled in the rural mountains. Several buildings constructed in an open-air format, amid nature. The school is also partially a farm, with grapes, corn, and other crops growing. They also have two greenhouses, one of which just opened on August 5, that grow tomatoes, carrots, chilles, and other crops, plus tilapia fish. The new machines recycle rainwater, purifying them through charcoal and ultraviolet light. There is also a community science facility on campus, which is open to the entire community, not just the school. The school is intentionally designed to serve the entire community, not just its students. From grades 4-9 they use a project-based model, grouping students by “cells” with names like dolphins, tigers, pandas, etc.

We had lunch in the open-air cafeteria. The food was tremendous – perhaps the best chicken I’ve ever had. But why does every school on the planet use those awful styrafoam trays? Could someone please invent an affordable, biodegradable lunch tray that does not dissolve in seconds?

We met the director (principal) – Victoria Argueta, and sub-director (vice-principal), Nelson Marquez – who could not have been more welcoming and kind. Three little girls – maybe six years old – sold bags of mango slices for 25 cents.

After lunch, students began to arrive from other places. In addition to the Amun Shea kids, students from all the surrounding schools were invited to attend. Three other schools sent students, who arrived walking and piled into mini vans. We were up to about 60 students, assembled in the lunch room, and I was eager to get started, but then the truck arrived. A large agricultural pickup truck, with about 20 students piled in the back, still in their school uniforms of dark blue skirts or pants and white shirts. They held on to the sides of the truck, and burst into smiles as they arrived. They had traveled for an hour and twenty minutes of bumpy back roads in the back of the truck, and could not have been more excited to arrive.

We ended up with about 80 students, plus 20 of their teachers who joined us for the day. Enrique opened the event by welcoming everyone and explaining the afternoon. I offered welcome from the Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Network, and told the students they were part of something special and world-wide. Enrique went over the Bread Loaf rules.  We adjourned to make a group picture, then divided the students into four groups for breakout workshops. Rex led a session on listening and writing; Maria and Lily on I am poems; Alan and Melvin on music and writing.

I worked with Enrique, Celena and Lorena on the Music and Theater workshop. We had 28 participants, including five teachers. Celena led theater games, then Lorena led an “I remember…” writing prompt. I led another round of theater games, then Enrique and in then demonstrated how to turn writing into performance, and the participants worked in groups of four to create. We had a performance session that was at times funny and at times serious.

At 4pm, the entire group reconvened in the lunch room for a sharing session, led by Enrique. Some small groups shared group poems; some read individual pieces (including “I remember…” and “I am…”). As the sharing session went on, students had to leave, but those who remained kept on sharing. By 4:30, it was time for all of the students to go. The twenty piled into the truck, smiles on their faces, thanking us profusely. It was a special afternoon.

We drove five minutes up to road to Perkin Lenka: Hotel Montana. It is a stunning place, a hotel of several buildings carved into the side of the mountain. The steps were steep, but the views of the mountains looking into Honduras were amazing. We checked into our rooms, lounged in the hammocks, and dined on pupusas. Conversation went well into the evening.

On Saturday morning, part of our group piled into the ConTextos pickup truck at 5am and headed 30 minutes down the road to the river and waterfalls to play and frolic. I choose to stay back and watch the sunrise over the mountains.

We then headed into town, to the Perquin Casa de Cultura (house of culture). There are cultural centers, funded by the government, in many towns. This is a particularly strong center, with two full time employees, and is a model for other centers around the nation. The building used to be city hall back in the 1970s. During the civil war in the 1980s it was occupied by various forces and was the site of a battle. Part of one wall has been preserved to show the destruction. Bullet holes are plainly visible. Today, the Casa has a library, meeting spaces, a small museum, and a collection of cultural artifacts that show the history of the area before, during, and after the war.

There were 17 of us: five from the US (Rex Lee Jim, Maria Tejeda, Amaryllis Lopez, Alan Nunez, and me), two Guatemalan-Starfish teachers (Celena Cuy and Ixkik Teny), nine ConTextos staff members (Anne Ruelle, Jenna Knapp, Jennifer Correas, Zoila Gomez, Enrique Quintanilla, Daisy Diaz, Esmeralda Zarceno, Melvin Moreno), and two teacher-leaders from local schools (Lorena Lima, Berfalia Castillo). We were sad to be missing Carlos Recinos, a ConTextos staff member, who was teaching his Curriculum Planning course as a professor at the University of Central America.

I led a reflection session, asking folks to write for a few minutes in answer to three questions: What did we learn? What does it mean? What do we do next? After folks wrote for about 15 minutes, we each shared our thoughts. It was a deeply moving session. I have asked each participant to type up their reflection and share it in this space – I will not attempt to capture the thoughts of others beyond this very brief summary: We learned how to communicate across difference and how to love one another more.

In my own reflection, I wrote about the model of a circle, an idea I got from my colleague Jim, who founded the Apple magazines. The idea is that a circle has both a diameter and a circumference. The diameter cuts across the circle – divides it. The circumference surrounds the circle – includes the entire circle. Thanks to math, we know that the circumference of a circle is always at least three times bigger than its diameter. In other words, that which surrounds us is more powerful than that which divides us.

I wrote that this week proves that people can communicate across difference. Our team included folks from four nations (Guatemala, Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Navajo), ages 19-50s, from different professional backgroups, speaking four languages (English, Spanish, Navajo, Kaqchikel of Guatemala.) Nevertheless, we co-planned and co-facilitated classes and workshop sessions for teachers and students alike. It took work and time, but it’s possible. We also discovered how deep communication can be. For example: Berthalia testified that when Rex read a poem in Navajo during the sharing session at the teacher workshop, she did not understand the words, but began crying anyway, because she understood the emotion. 

What do we need to do next? I wrote five things:
1.     We need to take what we learned back to our own classrooms and other learning spaces

2.     We need to find ways to work together on a grass-roots level – teacher to teacher, student to student, using technology – email, Skype, whatever resource we need. In 2017, teachers and students need to be connected across borders.

3.     We need to reflect on the meaning of this week, for a long time. In just a few days, we will all be back to our homes and regular professional lives, and the memory of this week will quickly fade. We must keep it in the forefront of our minds, and reflect on the larger implications.

4.     We must tell the story. We need to write on the blog, to write articles, to present at conferences, to tell the story to others. This week created and illustrated models – but a model is only a model if it is shared continuously and loudly. If we keep it to ourselves, it is a missed opportunity.

5.     We need to follow up with each other, both to support each other, and to hold each other accountable.


Our sharing session ended about 10:30, and after a flurry of photos, we moved on to visit the Museco De La Revolucion Salvadorena – the musem of the Salvadroan revolution. The entrance fee was sixty cents. The war lasted from 1980 until the peace accords were signed on January 16, 1992. It was waged between the FMLN rebel forces in a fight for human rights against their own government. After the war, the FMLN became a recognized political party. The museum opened in December of that year. The museum was a remarkable place. It includes a Wall of Heroes, photographs of soldiers (including children and woman), posters used to advocate for the FMLN from South Africa, Germany, the USA, and other places. Also models of weapons  (which looked to me more like World War 2 surplus than 1980s-era – which is probably what they were), a destroyed helicopter, and an unexploded bomb manufactured in the USA. It was interesting to me to note that some of the exhibits were funded by and Irish organization.

On the way out the door, I was a bit startled to see armed soldiers, but quickly realized they were routine guards, protecting the place. There are a lot of armed guards around, even in the grocery store we visited on the ride home (although I suspect those weapons are not loaded). The police has been heavily militarized with US support to crack down on gang activity.

During the weekend, I had the chance to speak with Jenna Kilman. Originally from Indianapolis, she went to a Jesuit High School and first visited El Salvador as a high school student, and became inspired. She went to Notre Dame, spent a semester abroad in the country, and after graduation decided to return. Aside from a two-year stint back at Notre Dame to earn a master’s in Peace Studies, she has lived in a small community since, and works primarily running literacy programs in the prisons. The community, named Delores Medina, was founded after the war as a home for refugees who were displaced in the war and no longer had homes to go to. She just joined ConTextos in March. She told me many stories of what it’s like to be a young person, particularly a young male, in El Salvador. She told me stories of the brutality of the gangs, and the brutality of the crack-down against the gangs, which does not always move in the direction of justice. One recent study shows that 27% of the homicides in El Salvador (which has a very high homicide rate) are gang-related – which means that 73% are not. However, every violent incident is attributed to the gangs. It is a very complicated situation and I do not pretend to fully understand, but it’s clear there are few winners.

I also spent time with my friend Enrique Quinatanilla, ABL ’17, who runs literacy programs in a prison. They have their final exhibition and reading on Monday. I am deeply sorry that I will miss it. He expects 65 people to attend the reading, with nine students exhibiting their work. Enrique had to miss the teacher workshop to spend the day with those students, practicing. The students are very proud. As Enrique put it in an e-mail:

Find attached the link for the new release of our juvenile detention center students ilustrated memoirs. I know not everyone speaks spanish, but please take the time to go through these powerful stories and let the language be second.

https://issuu.com/contextos-sv


After the museum, we went back to Perquin Lenka for lunch, then headed back to Santa Tecla. At one point the traffic came to a total stop. We got out to see. There was a parade, in honor of Archbishop Oscar Romero, who was assassinated in 1980 for speaking up against human rights abuses, provoking the civil war. He is a considered a national hero. Two years ago, Pope Francis of the Roman Catholic Church “beatified” Romero – the first step towards sainthood. This coming Tuesday, August 15, would have been Romero’s 100th birthday. In honor of his birthday, this group of people began a procession at the place where he was murdered in El Salvador on Friday morning, August 11, at 7am, and will march for five days, ending up at the spot where Romero was born on August 15, his 100th birthday. Rumor is that Pope Francis will consecrate Romero as a saint soon – people are hoping that the announcement comes Tuesday. Whenever it does, there will be very large celebrations. This procession that we saw had hundreds of people marching and hundreds more riding in busses moving at walking speed. People carried signs and posters and cheered and prayed. It was moving to watch.

We returned to Santa Tecla about 6:30. Alan and I headed to the nearby shop to pick up the t-shirts that we had ordered as a gift to our team. We gathered at 7:30 at Esmeradla’s house, just a few blocks away (I managed to get crazy lost anyway), for Salvadoran bar-b-q, and one last chance to hug, take pictures, and say good-bye.

Ixkik and Celena left at 5am this morning for a 12-hour odyssey of busses to get back to their town in Guatemala. Rex left at 5:45 for a flight to Costa Rica, where he will lead writing workshops and be the featured poet at a reading on Wednesday. Amaryllis, Maria and I leave at 9:15 for a noon flight to Miami, where we will diverge – Maria heading back to the Dominican Republic, while Amaryllis and I fly on to Boston. Alan will spent the morning with Melvin, at his 6-yr-old son’s soccer game, before catching a 7pm flight to New York.

And so the next step begins.

Thanks for reading. I will post again from Andover.


Rich

Three Questions...

three questions:
  • this week, what did I learn?
  • what does it mean?
  • what do we do next?
I learned about the infinite power of generosity and kindness. I had already thought of myself as having developed those qualities to a certain degree, and am grateful to have befriended people in this country taught me that there more to go, friends who are now my role models for the next level.

I have also learned that acts of kindness and generosity, are exemplars of the motto, "think globally, act locally". No one person or group has the answers we strive to seek with regards to social justice, equity and the insistence on human rights (though Zoila, Melvin and I feel like we came pretty close last night...). However, the small measures we take add up to more than the sum of its parts. We are not changing the world - we have accomplished something more meaningful than that. We are changing our world around us and empowering others to do so as well. And we are being empowered in return.

This week's significance to me is a release from the pressure of endlessly reacting to all our crazy leaders, raging through the tragedies and the horrors of all our pasts. The meaning I've gotten from my time here is to value the ability to connect with fellow brothers and sisters in this struggle to weave a web of peace that the forces that oppose us will eventually find themselves unable to escape.

I cannot think of "nexts" at this moment. I apologize for that. The idealist in me still want to act globally, but I know that this causes me to act rarely. I've been in that trap and will not go back there again. I will work on the "next" and, in the meantime, respond whenever my brothers and sisters come up with their "nexts" and support with my blood, sweat and toil. 

I owe myself that. A life lived with less fear, more love and surrounded by heroes who double as friends. My "next" is unknowable right now, except for the expectation that it will continue to lead me through a life that is bolder than I'd imagine, more powerful that I though possible.

I owe my heroes and friend, my teachers and students, no less than that.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Amaryllis' Reflection on Borja School

The following reflection was written by ABL's Amaryllis Lopez, after our final day at the Borja School, Tuesday August 8, 2017. Check out many pictures on Facebook

Ingeniero Guillermo Borja Nathan School you have stolen my heart. Thank you for opening up your class time, your hearts, and yourselves to poetry. Thank you to Dennis and Daniela and the rest of their classmates for making me feel like home. Thank you for getting to know me, asking questions about my life, asking permission to touch my hair (people in the US lack manners I'll tell you that much), in all they made me feel like I was catching up with old friends. In return I got to know more about you guys and the lives you live, your dreams, your hopes, and even the things you're scared of. Thank you for letting me teach, learn, grow, and write beside you. I went in with the notion that I wouldn't take photos or videos of the students to respect their space but they wanted me to share their stories, their voices, and faces with everyone I know. These kids go to school in the middle of two gangs and the narrative around their city and themselves never include their own experiences. Today they wrote poems about peace, community, hope, love, and most importantly themselves. We posted our poetry on our own little gallery walls posted in the 4 classes that I thought with Enrique and Lorena. Thank you for all the hugs, smiles, tears, and selfies. Te quiero mucho, Apopa 

Finally, I feel free to speak my truth...



Thursday evening, August 10, 2017

“The reason why we are not in solidarity with each other is because the moment that we are, there is nothing left to do but love each other.”
-       Participant, Teacher Workshop
(possible paraphrase of Oscar Romero)

“Finally I feel free to speak my truth.”  - Participant, teacher workshop

Eighty-nine teachers, plus fifteen staff, equals 104 total participants in the 2017 Contextos – Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Conference. We gathered at 8:30 for the opening ceremony, kicked off by Alan’s Taiko drumming performance, conducted on a pair of plastic buckets secured for the occasion. Jennifer Correas gave opening remarks, and I spoke on behalf of the Bread Loaf Peace Literacy Network. At nine, we broke off into three workshops - “La Melodia de Tu Palabra” (The Melody of Your Words) with Alan, Lily, Esmeralda, Berfalia and Ixkik; “Tejiendo Nuestras Historias” (Weaving our Stories) with Rex, Maria, Melvin and Jennifer; and “Memoria y Teatro” (Memory and Theater) with me, Carlos, Celena and Lorena.  The workshops took place from 9am-12noon, including a 20-minute refreshment break. Each had about 30 participants. We had lunch from 12-1pm, followed by another session in which we discussed classroom application of what we had done during the morning session. At 1:30, we reconvened as a large group for an open mic. The conference was hosted by ESEN, a business school that partners with ConTextos and offers the space. It was a gorgeous campus - think of a small college in a tropical setting among stands of bamboo. The spaces were large, technology was excellent, and the environment was lovely. 

It was an emotional morning, including a wide range of emotions. There was much laughter and joy, and also tears, and pain. Most of our participants lived through the brutal Salvadoran civil war from 1980-1992 (some of the brutality endorsed and funded by the USA, but that’s another story). For many of our participants, the war has been a story they don’t discuss. One participant in a workshop today told her very personal, very difficult story, explaining that she doesn’t talk about it because it’s took painful – but in doing so, she was in fact talking about it.

In the Weaving our Stories workshop, Jennifer told the story of Maria of Pequin, which I referenced in a previous blog post, and how it deeply affected her. Before she was done, hands went up in the room from others who had similar stories. In the end, one participant related that “finally I feel free to speak my truth.” It is a principle of Bread Loaf writing workshops that participants are encouraged to speak their truth. It was a powerful principle at work today.

The open mic afternoon, mc’d by the irrepressible Carlos Recinos (ABL ’15), began with a performance by the “Melody of Your Words” participants, who had re-written John Lennon’s song “Imagine” with their own words, and sang it in three parts. It was stunning, and tears began to flow. In my opening remarks, I expressed our belief that by coming together across boundaries to create and share, we can make the world a more peaceful place. The 30-person choir singing their own version of “Imagine” included teachers from El Salvador, Guatemala, and the USA, and a nun from Nicaragua. It was a special moment.

The open mic continued, including a performance by a theater group, many poems, memoirs, and testimonies. Some were funny, some were fun, some were emotive and serious. It lasted an hour. Celena Cuy, a teacher from Collegion Impacto School in Guatemala, read an “I remember…” memoir written in Kaqchikel (pronounce “catch-a-keel”), an indigenous language spoken by 7% of the Guatemalan population. Rex Lee Jim read a poem in Navajo. Amaryllis Lopez of Lawrence read her name poem in English. And many read pieces in Spanish. Our rule is that you can write in any language, form or register, and we heard many today – four languages, various language codes, poems, memoirs, plays, and song. It was very Bread Loafian.

After the open mic there was a flurry of selfies, hugs, thank you’s and I will miss you’s. Those of us visiting from the US were deeply moved by the experience, and grateful to have been a part.

We headed back to the ConTextos offices, where I sat down with the evaluation forms.  Even with my poor ability at reading Spanish, I could tell they were “off the hook” (to quote my boss, Lou Bernieri). They were uniformly positive, with folks  Wee asked participants to write down 3 strategies they planned to take back to their classroom, 2 ideas for future conferences, and 1 additional comment.  A representative sampling of the comments is posted below.

One of the comments is perhaps the best compliment I have ever heard for Bread Loaf: “[these workshops] make innovative, dynamic, creative teachers committed to education.” 

Over dinner at Pupusa Factory (my favorite pupusa place in Santa Tecla – Lily prefers El Peche Cosme), we reflected on the day and shared other stories. In the theater workshop I helped facilitate, many participants wrote some deeply personal, emotive stories, but chose not to share those in the performances. Other facilitators observed the same thing – people accessed those memories, and some wrote about them, but they aren’t able to share them. A lot did happen today, but it’s only one day. I never want to delude myself into thinking that a group of self-important people from the US can show up, run a one-day writing workshop, and make the whole world better. It doesn’t work like that. The wounds of the war run deep, the stories are both horrific and enobling, and the process of healing certainly does not belong to me. I was honored to hear some of the stories today. If we were able to give folks some models to help them speak their truth, we have been successful. But only those who know the truth have the right to speak it.

Tomorrow we leave from the ConTextos offices at 6am for a five-hour drive into the northeast mountains, to a small town called Perquin. We will arrive about noon, and spend the afternoon conducting a workshop for ~100 youth. We will spend the evening in Perquin, hold meetings on Saturday morning, and drive back Saturday afternoon.

I do not expect that I will be able to post to the blog in Perquin – so I will have to take notes the old-fashioned way, in my notebook. I will post again on Saturday night.

Thanks for reading,
Rich




Some of the Comments
Excellent active participation workshops. Dynamic, creative, easy to implement.
Everything was excellent!
Can it be 2 or 3 days?
Why do they not do these workshops more often?
God bless you, continue with that enthusiasm
Continuously create new workshops for all teachers in our country to motivate,
educate, and improve education for all
No recommendations – everything was excellent
Expand to more schools!
Grateful for this workshop, since I have learned a lot
There is no way to say thanks: only thank you and blessings
Congratulations for being prepared for what was a very emotional day
The dynamics helped me de-stress. They taught me how to write about our history.
Makes innovative, dynamic, creative teachers committed to education
Wow!
I thought it was perfect – they should only have more time
This conference moved my emotions by writing
When and where is the next meeting?
To write what I think
The day has been gratifying and beautiful and has given us the opportunity to
express ourselves
Thank you for your time and dedication to improve the education and our country.



What you will take back to the classroom?
Diverse methodologies and activities
How to help students face emotions through games
To include this space in any discipline
Principles of writing our stories
The rules of writing workshops
Write our truth!
Before beginning class, do body exercises to activate the mind and predispose it to the activity of the classroom
The photograph exercise for memory
Creativity
I will form a poetry club!
Memory and theater
Writing odes
To write our stories
Free myself from fears
Be an agent of change
Apply music to learning
Motivate students by engaging them with movement

Schools Represented at the Teacher Workshop
CE Soledad Moreno de Benavides
CE Aldea de las Mercedes
CE Cantón de Sisiguayo
CE Ingeniero Guillermo Borja Nathan
Colegio Impacto/Estrella de Mar (Guatemala)
CE Cantón Hato de Reyes
Católico Ricardo Poma
CE El Milagro
Kinder Little Ones
Ministerio de Educación 
Externado de San José 
CE Salvador Martínez Figueroa