Connect Four

When I signed on the dotted line to become a year long volunteer at the WBC I was not surprised nor dissuaded by the requirements addressed in the contract. In general, it fulfilled what I was hoping to find in a volunteer program, and so I signed without vacillation. As I said nothing alarmed me, but I do admit there was one component which left me curious. It was the fourth clause. It states:

"I will do whatever work the Center requires of me. I understand that the daily schedule is from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm Monday through Friday..."

My initial reactions were as follows:

That is an extremely long day...
             What would I be doing for twelve hours a day?
                            How can I sustain that schedule five days a week for an entire year?

Well...

The month of September came and went and I was working until 5 pm each day, much to my surprise. After an hour long commute, I had plenty of time to work out, shower, prepare for the next day, eat dinner, and then relax. Life was good.

The month of October followed and I soon learned the meaning of the fourth clause:
Adult Education.

After teaching the niños during the day, we begin class with their parents in the evening. There are two sections with a break in the middle for a little merienda. In class we focus on community building, reading, writing, and math. I admit I was more nervous to begin teaching the adults than I was their children. Here I am, a newly graduated twenty-two year old teaching adults who are not only older than me, but have two, three, four, five... even six children. I found myself feeling strange and somewhat uncomfortable. I began to think on my life's experiences, the opportunities I have been afforded, and the decisions I have made based on the culture I grew up in, and I saw striking differences. I do not equate them as better or worse... just simply different.

Every evening as we transition from teaching children to their parents, I feel a wave of humility crash over me. The majority of the parents at the La Marín center are indigenous and Spanish is actually their second language. Without fail, they arrive with a smile, speaking Quichua to one another, and greet us with a hug and a kiss. The women are dressed in striking traditional clothing with brightly colored alpaca blankets draped over their shoulder. They are warm and inviting. I look down at my Scranton sweatshirt, gap jeans, and converse and am disappointed.

When we first began class, we brought a variety of games and simply took time to learn about each other. I distinctly remember the first time I met Faviola (as she spells it). Her daughter Isabella is in my English class and I have her sons, José and Edison, in art class. She is a single mother working to turn her circumstances into opportunities. This particular day I ask her what she wants to play and she replies by nudging the Connect Four box toward me. I begin by explaining the game, the rules, and how one wins. She nods in agreement and, so, we start.

I place my black plastic piece down the middle row and she follows with her red chip. I then place my next chip down the neighboring row, and she follow. We continue until I win. We take a time out to review the rules and try again. This time Faviola decides to pay no attention to what we just talked about nor where I place my pieces, and continues to play until she deems herself the victor.

She is enjoying herself, so we continue and she then decides to disregard all rules and create a design. She begins to tell me where to out my pieces so we can complete what she has designed in her mind's eye. I think to myself, "Should I stop this? Should I explain the game again? We are supposed to be practicing strategy and critical thinking, but I do not want to discourage her. Maybe I will just let it be."

When we finish the board is completely full and a sweet smiles grows on her face. "Connect Four," she says. The same smile stretches on my face and I nod in agreement. I ask if she wants to play again and she agrees. She then proceeds to conjure up a new design and dictates where my chips need to go. Who says she isn't thinking critically?