Here she is- the beautiful rural school of Espolon, Chile, one of the most isolated villages in perhaps the entire country. (First photo is from afar, the second at the entrance.)Currently there is no road that reaches the population of Espolon. It is for this reason that I take a boat (30 minutes to a little over an hour, depending on the number of passengers, the boat, and the wind) across the Lago Espolon, at which point a small jeep awaits to take me the few remaining miles to the school. If it weren't for the boat, the only remaining option for transportation is horseback.
Fortunately for the people of Espolon a small barge funded by the state arrived to the lake this month with the intention of making public trips to Espolon possible (until now only private boats have crossed the lake). Unfortunately for the people of Espolon, the barge, La Esperanza, is not yet up and running.
A brief summary of Espolon in numbers:
Number of cars: 6 (brought over by boat)
Number of residents: 300
Number of students (grades 1-6): 14
Number of teachers: 1
It is because of this extreme isolation that these students have never had English classes like some of the other rural schools. It is for this same reason that these students arrive to board at the school here in Futaleufu in the 7th grade scared out of their minds. They're used to one teacher, 13 classmates, and the ins and outs of life in Espolon. Period. Interaction with outsiders is downright terrifying for many of them. It is for this reason that when I arrived the first day and greeted them with a cheerful, "Hello!" they dared not even look at each other and giggle. The just stared at me. "¿Que me dicen Uds. cuando yo les digo 'Hello'?" I asked them. A few students replied, "¡Hola!" Okay, it was a start. The teacher's wife, Vilma, who also lives at the school and is in charge of the boarding aspect of the operation, joined the class, explaining to me that she and her husband own cabins in town that they rent out in the summer and she would also like to learn English to be able to interact with tourists. Excellent. By the end of the hour and half long class, the students had loosened up and were actively participating in the games and activities I had planned. We were off on the right foot.
That was the first week. The second week we were blessed with an unusually warm and sunny day so I suggested we go outside for part of the class. Next to the school, we formed a large circle and linked hands. "Ready? Right, right, right, right..." We chanted as we marched the circle to the right. "Stop! Left, left, left, left... stop! Up!" Hands over our heads. "Down!" And so we continued for about half an hour repeating such basic commands. But the one that really got them: "Dance!" And we all dropped hands and cut loose, dancing like maniacs, shimmying and shaking about, hands clapping and knees bouncing until I froze and shouted, "Stop!" and they tried to freeze but many were laughing so hard they couldn't help but move. "Dance!" and it started all over again.
Amidst the jiving and the swirling, I took note of the unmistakable innocence of these kids. They're different from the kids in Futaleufu, just as the kids in Futaleufu are different from the kids in Santiago. If we were to draw a physical scale, a horizontal line, ranging from rural to city, these kids would mark the extreme starting point. Interestingly, one might use this same scale to measure contamination, both environmental and social. By social contamination I mean crime, drugs, dishonesty, etc.; things to which these children seem oblivious. If this is the case, that the degree of "ruralness" or "citiness" has a direct correlation to the level of purity or contamination, then these children would also mark the starting point on the scale for innocence. Let it be noted that I am aware of the difference between innocence and ignorance; one could easily argue that these children suffer from lack of exposure and information. Maybe. Let it also be noted that I am aware of high levels of domestic abuse and alcoholism in the region and that it is very possible that this quintessential image of untainted childhood is not a reality at all. On a sunny warm day in the middle of winter, however, anything seems possible, and I will embrace this sensation of purity and innocence while it lasts.
No comments:
Post a Comment