I don't recall if I've blogged on the concept of chapel at IST before. If I have, or if you have talked to me about it in the last 2 years, I'm sure you didn't hear great things. I've never been thrilled with chapel down here. I don't exactly know how to pinpoint what's wrong, but it's got something to do with a not-so-prevalent faith life of many IST students (rendering chapel "useless" to, or at least not worth attention of a high percentage of students) coupled with a general lack of focus for messages and content (this is opinion based upon the past 2 years; not enough time has elapsed to judge on this year).
One of the biggest problems with high school chapel is the length: a full 42 minute class period (once a week) is allotted for chapel. That's twice as long as chapel at Calvin (though, admittedly, Calvin has chapel every day) and almost twice as long as the (thrice weekly) chapel I thoroughly enjoyed at Holland Christian High School. I think a 20-25 minute break in the middle of the day is about perfect to set itself off as a special time to honor God, but not so long as to get restless as teenagers are wont to do. 42 minutes is long for me, even.
This year, they've tried to offset this length of time by beginning with music videos playing as students come in and doing a couple "Ice Breaker" games before anything spiritual happens (please read with a sense of verbal irony on my part). Ice breakers are meant to do what they say - break the ice among people who may not know each other or are unfamiliar with each other. They're not something that is used week after week among students who've know each other for years. Maybe I'm just getting caught up in nomenclature, but trust me, the ice has been broken. Many, many times.
At any rate, these activities that take up usually half of the period have included Human Bingo, an identify-the-teacher-from-a-high-school-photo game (spread over 2 weeks), and karaoke. Today, as was common for chapels of last year, the activity was of a style you'd see on the TV show "Minute to Win It:" a basic challenge to be completed in 60 seconds or less. This week, four students sat up on stage, leaned their heads way back, and had an Oreo cookie placed on their forehead. The goal was to get the Oreo from forehead to mouth without using hands (quite difficult - try it!)(Remember, this is the weekly chapel.) None of the students succeeded, and in fact, most of them dropped the cookies off their faces several times and replaced them before the minute was over.
Next, of course, Mr. Barahona suggested the teachers may do better. So let's get some teachers up there! Show that they're not frumpy and all that! Make them look silly! I sang in the karaoke last week, so I wasn't inclined to volunteer (I don't really want to be THAT teacher) despite several students pressuring me to go up. But the third chair remained unfilled. Finally, I said to heck with it and went up (secretly, I wanted to see if I could do it, but not necessarily in that context). I looked skyward, felt the cookie's placement, waited for the countdown, and proceeded to wiggle my forehead muscles.
The Oreo inched toward my eye socket, then suddenly was there. My chocolate wafer and cream monocle twitched with my eyelid. I tested the angles and (literal) gravity of the situation, and realized a slight flick of the head could effectively flip the cookie, but I didn't want to overdo it and send the Oreo to the floor. I had one shot. My mouth instinctively opened with concentration, my neck muscles flexed, and the cookie fairly magnetically shot from eye to mouth.
I'd done it. The other teachers were still struggling, getting closer than the students had, but perhaps 20 or 25 seconds in, the contest was over as a cheer resounded from the 11th and 12th graders in the chapel. The Oreo crumbled under the triumphant closing of my jaws. I returned to my seat, proud of myself and ready to sing with the praise band that was coming up to begin the more chapel-ish protion of chapel.
Now, I do have to make sure to note that I'm much more pleased with chapel thus far this year than at pretty much any point in the last two years. I attribute that largely to the group of students that are in 11th and 12 grade this year (a truly solid set of 140 or so kids) and no longer having the terribly disrespectful class of 2011 in that context any more. I'm hopeful and optimistic for this year, in ways that extend beyond my classroom, where things already feel very positive.
Now I have just one more day before a 5 day Independence Day break. Nicaragua, here we come!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
...celebrating children
In Honduras, Mother's Day is celebrated (as far as I have seen) on the same day as in the United States. Father's Day, rather than the month after Mother's Day, comes the month before, in April. (Every bulletin board at IST seems to include a tie of some kind in its decoration this time of year...that's what a father is, after all - a guy who wears a tie.) But a further difference can be found in that Honduras has a specific day set aside to celebrate CHILDREN in addition to Moms and Dads. That day is today. I think. At least today is the day that International School celebrates it.
Children's Day, or Dia de Niños, is one of the banes of existence for most middle and high school teachers at IST. It's marked with a program in the last hour or so of school, where the entire elementary school gathers in the polideportivo (essentially an outdoor gymnasium with a roof over it) and...stuff happens. The poli is located directly next to the MS/HS building, with windows (perpetually open this time of year due to the heat) looking out over it. This program is LOUD. Comically loud. Music is blaring such that one cannot hear the average student speak in a typical classroom setting. You hear the emcees voice carrying into your classroom much better than your own voice - good luck maintaining attention of your class. Kiddos are encouraged to cheer at pretty much any given opportunity, and if there's one thing all kiddos are good at, it's screaming loudly.
To put it plainly, teaching is essentially impossible. (I'm blessed this year to not have to teach on Friday afternoons, thus avoiding this and most other similar party afternoons - yes, there are several over the course of the year.) Sure, there's no other place to put such a hubbub - IST is not blessed with an abundance of space (due to poor planning ahead, but that's not for this post), and in situations like that, sacrifices should be expected to be made. OK. I'll grant that. But the problem is really that we (at least in the high school; I can't speak for the middle school) were NEVER informed that it would be happening. This is typical. Often, large, well-publicized events that will actually affect our teaching are never announced to us in the high school, so we are unable to plan ahead to maybe have a strategy to deal with excessive noise outside our classrooms (more excessive, that is, than normal - there's constantly NOISE going on all over the school, but days like this stand out, to be sure).
When this same thing happened my first year, I was livid. I found out about Children's Day this year through facebook last night. Though I knew it wasn't personally going to affect me, I made sure to inform the new teachers on my side of the school (which is most affected by noise from the poli). They told me, "Well, I teach right by the chapel anyway; I'm used to it." I tried to express the gravity of the situation, that this was no muffled guitar noodling - this was CHILDREN'S DAY, but I guess you really can't understand it until you experience it. This they were able to do around 1:30, when the music and cheering began in earnest.
Though I regard Children's Day with massive skepticism, I can't help but watch car accidents as I drive past either. As I didn't have to teach, I meandered my way down to observe the festivities, quickly recoiling in horror. Children's Day is appalling.
The first thing I noticed was the Pepsi display up - I guess Children's Day is corporately sponsored these days? - with two random women in pink shirts standing in front of the display, not clearly there for any purpose. A surprising number of elementary kids were dressed as your favorite Disney princesses and Pixar characters: I recall Snow White, Belle from Beauty and the Beast, Mr. Incredible, Jessie from Toy Story 2 and 3, and at least a Batman and another generic princess thown in for good measure. Naturally. Children's Day, like most other days, is an excuse to wear costumes in Honduras. Several of the Honduran teachers were dressed up in student uniforms, although these uniforms were not designed with adult bodies in mind. Suffice it to say, jumpers did not cover as much leg as they are mandated on female students. There were sack races, or at least I thought where things were heading - there was so much build up, and I saw teachers getting into bags, but I looked away and the teachers were coming back before I realized it. They played an audiobook style story of Cinderella in Spanish over the loudspeakers, with no visual aspect going on. That part lost me and most of the kids. Popcorn and sno-cones were flowing with abandon. Blown bubbles filled the atmosphere. With any excuse, kids got up to run around and push their teachers up to the front to "volunteer" them for games like the sack race. Dances, both choreographed and spontaneous, punctuated the opening of the program, with hundreds of little arms flailing across the poli. The non-cynical part of me can see the joy and excitement that permeated the event on the part of the children, and enjoyed chuckling at the odd kid squirming on the ground on his back and the kid who sat in the middle of the basketball court with no one else around him within 15 or 20 feet in any direction.
Alas, there's a healthy, pulsating cynical side to me, as you well all know. And that cynical side was horrified by the spectacle. That cynical side looked at the 6th grade classes (living life for the first time without Children's Day and other such festivals) smushed against or hanging out of their classroom windows for the entire program, rendering the afternoon devoid of education. That cynical side sees how coddled children are in general in this country and questions the need to specifically set aside a day to coddle them even more. That cynical side can't get past hearing of one classroom that asked the teacher, "What are you doing for us today? Did you bring a piñata?" only to be scandalized upon hearing that the day was still to be filled with lessons.
Don't get me wrong. Kids are great. They should be celebrated. I just find myself very skeptical of spectacles, such as is found on days like today.
Children's Day, or Dia de Niños, is one of the banes of existence for most middle and high school teachers at IST. It's marked with a program in the last hour or so of school, where the entire elementary school gathers in the polideportivo (essentially an outdoor gymnasium with a roof over it) and...stuff happens. The poli is located directly next to the MS/HS building, with windows (perpetually open this time of year due to the heat) looking out over it. This program is LOUD. Comically loud. Music is blaring such that one cannot hear the average student speak in a typical classroom setting. You hear the emcees voice carrying into your classroom much better than your own voice - good luck maintaining attention of your class. Kiddos are encouraged to cheer at pretty much any given opportunity, and if there's one thing all kiddos are good at, it's screaming loudly.
To put it plainly, teaching is essentially impossible. (I'm blessed this year to not have to teach on Friday afternoons, thus avoiding this and most other similar party afternoons - yes, there are several over the course of the year.) Sure, there's no other place to put such a hubbub - IST is not blessed with an abundance of space (due to poor planning ahead, but that's not for this post), and in situations like that, sacrifices should be expected to be made. OK. I'll grant that. But the problem is really that we (at least in the high school; I can't speak for the middle school) were NEVER informed that it would be happening. This is typical. Often, large, well-publicized events that will actually affect our teaching are never announced to us in the high school, so we are unable to plan ahead to maybe have a strategy to deal with excessive noise outside our classrooms (more excessive, that is, than normal - there's constantly NOISE going on all over the school, but days like this stand out, to be sure).
When this same thing happened my first year, I was livid. I found out about Children's Day this year through facebook last night. Though I knew it wasn't personally going to affect me, I made sure to inform the new teachers on my side of the school (which is most affected by noise from the poli). They told me, "Well, I teach right by the chapel anyway; I'm used to it." I tried to express the gravity of the situation, that this was no muffled guitar noodling - this was CHILDREN'S DAY, but I guess you really can't understand it until you experience it. This they were able to do around 1:30, when the music and cheering began in earnest.
Though I regard Children's Day with massive skepticism, I can't help but watch car accidents as I drive past either. As I didn't have to teach, I meandered my way down to observe the festivities, quickly recoiling in horror. Children's Day is appalling.
The first thing I noticed was the Pepsi display up - I guess Children's Day is corporately sponsored these days? - with two random women in pink shirts standing in front of the display, not clearly there for any purpose. A surprising number of elementary kids were dressed as your favorite Disney princesses and Pixar characters: I recall Snow White, Belle from Beauty and the Beast, Mr. Incredible, Jessie from Toy Story 2 and 3, and at least a Batman and another generic princess thown in for good measure. Naturally. Children's Day, like most other days, is an excuse to wear costumes in Honduras. Several of the Honduran teachers were dressed up in student uniforms, although these uniforms were not designed with adult bodies in mind. Suffice it to say, jumpers did not cover as much leg as they are mandated on female students. There were sack races, or at least I thought where things were heading - there was so much build up, and I saw teachers getting into bags, but I looked away and the teachers were coming back before I realized it. They played an audiobook style story of Cinderella in Spanish over the loudspeakers, with no visual aspect going on. That part lost me and most of the kids. Popcorn and sno-cones were flowing with abandon. Blown bubbles filled the atmosphere. With any excuse, kids got up to run around and push their teachers up to the front to "volunteer" them for games like the sack race. Dances, both choreographed and spontaneous, punctuated the opening of the program, with hundreds of little arms flailing across the poli. The non-cynical part of me can see the joy and excitement that permeated the event on the part of the children, and enjoyed chuckling at the odd kid squirming on the ground on his back and the kid who sat in the middle of the basketball court with no one else around him within 15 or 20 feet in any direction.
Alas, there's a healthy, pulsating cynical side to me, as you well all know. And that cynical side was horrified by the spectacle. That cynical side looked at the 6th grade classes (living life for the first time without Children's Day and other such festivals) smushed against or hanging out of their classroom windows for the entire program, rendering the afternoon devoid of education. That cynical side sees how coddled children are in general in this country and questions the need to specifically set aside a day to coddle them even more. That cynical side can't get past hearing of one classroom that asked the teacher, "What are you doing for us today? Did you bring a piñata?" only to be scandalized upon hearing that the day was still to be filled with lessons.
Don't get me wrong. Kids are great. They should be celebrated. I just find myself very skeptical of spectacles, such as is found on days like today.
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