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6 August 2003
Chiriqui Province, Panama.
The sweet smell of cedar sawdust
fills the air, and the rhythmic
back-and-forth of a lone hacksaw
harmonizes with an insistent tap-tap-tapping
of oversized tropical raindrops
announcing an imminent downpour.
Suddenly, all clouds burst, and
the entire sky becomes a waterfall,
its deafening beat thundering off
the corrugated tin roof of the
Ngabe-Bugle Cultural Center in
Soloy.
Sra. Máxima is inside preparing
yet another meal of rice and lentils,
while Victorino Rodriguez is hard
at work, along with fifteen other
indigenous school teachers. They
labor in silence, oblivious to
the rain, preparing instructional
materials to take back to their
schools. One is on government salary;
the rest are volunteers, serving
full-time as teachers for the native
children who live in the remote
mountain communities of Chiriqui.
 The
teachers are attending an intensive
two-week training, where they will
earn three credits towards the
fourteen required to become government
certified and receive a salary.
Roberto Palacio has been serving
as a volunteer for eleven years.
His wife, Maria Teresa Bejerano,
also a teacher, is participating
in the workshop as well. Their
three small children are visiting
this afternoon. All of the teachers
have worked long years under harsh
conditions and at great personal
sacrifice. This course represents
a significant step towards their
goals.
The training is sponsored by the
Mona Foundation (a non-profit based
in the United States), and FUNDESCU
(an NGO in Panama). It includes
classes in Curriculum Development,
Lesson Planning, Teaching Strategies
for Active Learning, Basic Health
and Hygiene, Methods of Teaching
Elementary Math, and the production
of hands-on materials.
Most of the teachers are members
of the Bahá'í Faith,
who have arisen in service to others,
without regard to race, religion,
gender or economic status, and
without thought of personal gain,
in accordance with the principles
of their faith. They are learning
to set instructional goals that
meet Ministry of Education requirements,
and that are in harmony with Bahá'í teachings
as well as local cultural values.
They have generated a list of topics
which they feel are of high importance
to their people:
- moral values and good character
- practical skills for useful
work
- sustainable agricultural
techniques
- technology in service of
social, economic and spiritual
development
- combining the best of traditional
and modern medicine
- health and hygiene, with
an emphasis on childhood illnesses
- development of native handicrafts
as a local industry
- preservation of traditional
culture, including songs, dances
and games
- evaluation of modern culture
using spiritual principles
as a guide
After setting goals, the teachers
practice writing educational objectives
using an integrated thematic approach.
They work in teams to design interesting
lessons based on those objectives,
and they demonstrate a variety
of teaching strategies, including
the use of art, music and drama.
While the training is in Spanish,
some of the more difficult concepts
are translated into Ngabere, the
local indigenous language, to facilitate
understanding. A step-by-step approach
with plenty of encouragement and
constructive feedback, soon has
the teachers eager to test new
lessons and materials on each other.
In the math workshop each afternoon,
participants take turns using the
hacksaw, the drill, and other tools
which have been brought by the
trainers, and which will remain
at the Bahá'í Institute
there. The teachers are crafting
practical materials that will help
their students learn to sort, classify,
count, understand the decimal system,
and perform basic math operations.
These items must be produced using
hand tools, since there is no electricity
in the area. They must also be
inexpensive and easy to make using
local materials. (It is amazing
what can be created with recycled
cans, old milk cartons, clothespins
and contact paper.) In addition,
the materials must be durable enough
to survive the bugs, mud, rain
and all-consuming humidity of the
Panamanian jungle.
For most of the teachers, it is
the first time they have used these
tools. Spray paint is a novelty,
and one person uses the entire
can. Even a ruler is foreign to
some, and they need instruction
in how to measure, starting from
zero instead of one.
 But
the teachers are motivated and
learn quickly. Hesitation gives
way to confidence, and soon, even
the women are using the large saw.
It is an impressive sight: young
Ngabe women in their colorful floor-length
naguas (the traditional dress),
cutting wood and measuring right
angles with a T-square, a pencil
tucked behind one ear. During a
break, one teacher slips off to
a corner to nurse her baby, then
returns to cut more wood. She is
making the short numerical rods
used in the Montessori system of
education.
Despite the long hours of the workshop,
the teachers' thirst for learning
seems unquenchable, and they ask
for classes on Saturday and in
the evenings as well. Even dinner
is regularly postponed while the
late afternoon session is extended
until dark. Máxima worries
that the rice is getting cold,
but she is patient, and says nothing.
She knows how long the teachers
have waited for this opportunity.
After dinner, some of the teachers
continue their work by candlelight.
The night sky in Chiriqui fades
to velvet black with a spray of
glittering stars. The Milky Way
lights a path to the dorms, and
a cold shower feels good at the
end of the day.
After two intensive weeks, the
training course has come to an
end, and a photo session is scheduled
for the last afternoon. The teachers
are eager to display their wares,
and to pose for individual portraits.
It is touching to watch, as each
one claims a table in the dining
hall, and neatly sets out his or
her hand-made creations, carefully
arranging and re-arranging every
piece until the composition is
perfect. One teacher asks for assistance
as he has never had such a large
number of possessions to organize.
Before their photo is snapped,
some of the teachers request bandaids
to cover blisters from using the
saw. The artisans pose with great
dignity and obvious pride, ignoring
the enthusiastic cheers and good-natured
teasing of their colleagues. Many
have not had their picture taken
before.
That night, a small closing ceremony
is planned by the participants.
It begins with prayers and singing
in three languages (Spanish, English
and Ngabere). There are eloquent
speeches, a demonstration of math
materials, an exchange of gifts,
laughter and a few tears. Finally,
the name of each graduate is called,
and one-by-one they come to the
front to receive their gift - a
teacher planning book with a small
calculator attached.
"Why didn't you just give us the
calculator in the first place?" they
joke. "Then we wouldn't have had
to struggle through this class!" Their
official certificates are being
signed by the Ministry of Education,
and won't be delivered for several
days. But the teachers are not
dismayed. They are already making
plans for the next course.
© 2003 Randie Gottlieb
The Mona Foundation supports
grassroots educational initiatives
and works to raise the status of
women and girls in the United States
and abroad. If you would like to
support these native schools, please
contact the Mona Foundation:
13922 64th Pl. W., Edmonds, WA
98026 USA, Tel: (425) 743-4550
Email:
Web: www.monafoundation.org
Your contributions are tax deductible. |
