Purpose is the place
where your deep gladness meets the world's needs. - Frederick Buechner
Five or so bright-eyed and giddy children stand in line,
impatiently waiting for their turn at a vuelta. My world is literally spinning, but my
Spanish is far too broken to tell the kids I’m dizzy. I hastily manage to regain
my composure before grabbing the next kid and spinning her around and around by
her hands and feet.
What is a vuelta,
you ask? Up until this week I had no idea myself. It was only through the
infamous game of cross-cultural charades that I found out it meant swinging a
child by one hand and one foot. Vueltas
are second to none, with capuchis
(piggy-back rides) coming a close second.
Every week I have the amazing opportunity to teach English
class to two schools with my peers. We choose a topic for the class, come up
with how we are going to teach it, and divvy up into two groups, specializing
in either the younger grades (1-3) and the older grades (4-6).
So far I’ve only taught the younger grades, but I’m eager to
teach the older ones too. It’s really interesting to see the different dynamics
between the two age groups and learning to adapt to their levels. I even find a
need to tweak the lesson between the two different schools we teach at.
Today, little girl caught my eye as I was making my way down
one of the aisles in a classroom. Her boisterous peers were all eagerly filling
out their worksheets, yet hers remained utterly blank. She sat there so quietly
and so peacefully; it was as if she was from another world.
She was a shy little girl and I could tell from her sheepish
smile that she was missing her four front teeth. And honestly, getting her to
speak even one word was like pulling teeth. I figured she needed some special
attention and I was determined to get through to her.
Within seconds I knew it was going to be a challenge. The
activity was to trace a line from the English word to the corresponding body
part displayed on the paper. I knew I was explaining it properly in Spanish
(the students around us were all answering my questions to her) yet she
appeared totally mystified. I broke down the steps, broke down those steps, and
then broke it all down even more.
I traced the line for the first word, hoping she would
understand and follow by example. No response.
I traced the line for the second word. I handed her the
pencil and showed her where to trace for the next answer. No response.
I held her hand in mine as I traced the line for the third
answer. As we neared the right body part, I gradually lifted my hand from hers.
Finally, I could see the gears beginning to turn. A small victory, but there
was more work to be done.
I got her to trace the fourth line by placing my two fingers
where the line would start and stop. She was shaky at first, but her lines grew
straighter as she gained her confidence.
By the seventh line I no longer needed my fingers to guide
her. She even shoved my hand out of the way as she completed her assignment
with style. I was amazed by how quickly she improved and felt accomplished from
helping her learn. I attempted to take it one step further by having her repeat
the words back to me as I corrected her paper.
The way she repeated her words was unlike any method the
other students have used. I should have expected it, because she really wasn’t
like any other student I’ve met before. She would very slowly lean forward and put
her lips close to my ear and repeat it back as quickly as she was quiet.
Standing back up from my perch by her desk, I felt a surge
of happiness and fulfillment. Finally, I got through to her. Finally, I broke down her walls (or at least
took a chunk out). The timid little girl I met some five minutes ago
transformed into a smiley, confident ray of sunshine.
Alejandra, the little munchkin, may not remember my name
next week or any of the words I taught her. I don’t even mind. Ultimately that
isn’t my purpose here. All I hope for is that she remembers how special and
loved she is.
She won’t remember what I said, but she may remember how I made
her feel. And really, isn’t that how it always is in life?
How will people remember you?
Lots of love,
Meagan <3
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