Field Based Training:

This was the worst week of training. I tried to be as positive as possible. I was going to get to see a new place in Peru. I wouldn’t have to be at the training center. I was going with Caroline and Scotney and a couple of other people that I really like. The hosta has weefee and hot showers. However, this week I could’ve lived without.

Field Based Training is one full week (including the bus rides to location and back to Chaclacayo; in my case, 12 hours there and back again, a hobbit's tale) of madness. We gave charlas every day, sometimes 2-3 charlas a day. We had one charla completely by ourselves. All of the charlas up to this point have been in a group. Even though most were divided individually, at least we still had each other in the room for backup. The other 27 hundred billion zillion charlas were done in groups or in pairs. For me, it is not the actual giving of the charlas that is so intense. Typically once I get in the classroom, I really enjoy myself and usually the kids are great. It is the prep time that is so frustrating for me. At this point, with my language level, I feel compelled to write out every word, trying to anticipate any possible problem that could occur. My scripts for these charlas are like those “choose your own adventure” books that I read when I was a kid. (Melis, I know you know what I’m talking about) "If Student A does not understand the instructions, go to page 3, paragraph 2. If Student B does not participate in the activity, go to page 5, paragraph 3. There you will find how to cope with this scenario in Spanish." I spent probably 4-6 hours a night preparing for each charla. Nine times out of ten, I’m cussing myself after the charla is over for spending such a ridiculous amount of time on preparation. So, the one lesson that I did take from FBT is to not prepare so much. I spent about 30 minutes preparing my second to last charla and bout 5 minutes on my last one. Also, I'm learning how to look like an idiot in front of groups of people without feeling like one.

I finally broke this week. So far, I felt as though I haven’t had any time to just sit and reflect about my experiences. Everything in training is so rushed. I’m exhausted and just want to sleep or play a mindless game of Candy Crush by the end of the day. I have seen a couple of people snap in angry outbursts, and I’ve witnessed a several crying fits so far, but I have been pretty numb up until this point. I couldn’t tell you why, but I cried almost constantly the third day into FBT. I think I took a break from crying at lunch, but that was about it. I had no specific reason at first. Just my turn to cry. Then later that day, I found out that there were going to be two people that were going to have to give their solo charlas to all-boys classes. Guess who one of the lucky ones was? That’s right. This was not a catastrophe, but you know how once you start crying, it’s difficult to shut off the waterworks? Peruvian boys are 20xs more rambunctious than Peruvian girls, so this set me off crying again. I was able to control my blubbering because I was giving a charla that I had given previously, and it was very successful. Aaaaaaand theeeeeen, the Volunteer whose site we are visiting the next day and giving our individual charlas in her school tells me that the boys in her school are highly disrespectful and extremely “machista.” (Machista is what you call a follower of machismo, a common Latin American belief and practice that men are the better, more dominant sex.) The volunteer asks me, “How’s your Spanish?” To which I reply, “It’s not.” She said nothing else and just looked at the ground. Definitely felt like a good cry was needed again. Aaaaaand theeeeeen, even though my charla had been checked and approved that morning by my language facilitator, my tech trainer wanted to review it because of the new development with the all-boys class. OK, sure. I still felt good about it until she totally ripped me a new one. She thought that it would not work with an all-boys class. They would run all over me. They will never participate in this activity, etc., etc. Super! After attempting to explain that I had done this same charla with great success and that I do have some classroom management skills to no avail, I ended up crossing my arms and just shutting down while she talked about how I should change it. Not productive. Not adult-like. Not helpful. Not OK. I can write about all the crazy mixed emotions that one has when they are starting a new job, in a country thousands of miles away from home, without friends and family, can’t speak the language, haven’t pooped in 6 days, haven’t showered in 4 days, sleeping on a bed as hard as a rock with people you don’t really know constantly telling you what to do, but this is what I signed up for and I really have no excuses for my behavior. I left my tech trainer, went downstairs to my room, balled like a baby to another Volunteer. Then I ran into my language facilitator in the hallway, balled like a baby to her for about an hour, and ended up not changing a thing in my charla.

The next morning with a clearer head, 3 cups of coffee, and apparently a night of cussing someone out in my sleep (so says my roommate, Erin, a volunteer of one year and just an all-round cool chick from Texas), I added two of the suggestions that the tech trainer recommended the previous night on the combi ride that morning to the school, but still left it primarily my own. It was way too late to try to rewrite a completely new script. I had to wait 45 minutes for a fellow trainee to give his charla, so D.D. and I had a long pep talk outside the classroom. (Yes, I just referred to myself in the third person. Generally something I dislike, but I feel as though the severity of this talk with myself granted the reference.) I walked up in that classroom like I owned it. I sat my script on the teacher’s desk and never looked back. By the end of my charla, I had 25 15- and 16-year-old boys chanting, “D.D.! D.D.! D.D.!” I have never been so proud and thrilled and yet really disturbed at the same time in all of my 30 years! My friend, Scotney, was one of my reviewers. Her evaluation form just had scribbles all over it, “Who are you?!?” “You are so amazing!” “Sin cuaderno?!?! SIN CUADERNO?!?!” (Without your notebook?!?!) All of my compañeros were done with their charlas and could hear the boys chanting my name. So, as you can imagine, the story got passed around and anytime I did ANYTHING for the last 4 weeks of training, all of my fellow trainees would chant my name. I could clear my throat, and there would be 34 Peace Corps trainees shouting, “D.D.! D.D.! D.D.!” Hilarious. Also, just so ya know, my tech trainer gave me an A on that charla ;)

I know how much you all adore my photos, so here are a few bonus pics from FBT:

Field Based Training (BTW, there were six other
trainees sleeping in chairs, couches, beds, and
the foor 10 minutes before our 3rd-to-last charlas.)

Ahhhh, the faces of utter excitement.

Sit when you can

Every different town that we visited had something interesting. Check it out:

Olmos (city), Olmos (district, like a county), Lambayeque (department, like a state), Perú (country, I hope you aready knew that): Besides the capital city of Lambayeque, this is the biggest city we visited, about 28,000, if I remember correctly. Way up in north Lambayeque.

Lime capital of Perú

City Gate

These are everywhere - safe zones for earthquakes. The last
one was still fresh in my mind.

Ben, me, some really awesome chicas that we taught the
difference between opinion and fact to, and Lindsay,
Peru 21's most prestigious Presidenta.

Gang sign? I'm really not sure...

P.E. with "hula hulas"

Zaña: Tee-ninecy town in the southern part of Lambayeque, about 45 minutes from the capital.

Super nice folks here. Afro-Peruanos are much more rare
and discrimnated against than African-Americans.
They are centralized in one town closer to Lima. It was cool
seeing their history and traditions in a tiny town.

Slave gallows

Slaves eventually ilberated themselves after
hearing about the rebellions in Haiti and Cuba.
I can't remember the whole history...
plus it was in Spanish, soooooo

Used to brand slaves

This was a specia treat. A group of folks and one gringo
(the bond PC Volunteer on the right) payed traditional
Afro Peruano music for us with instruments - a cajón
(the box the white chick is playing), drums,
and jaw bones of animals

My super awesome Spanish tutor, Isabel, dancing it up!

Some ruins in Zaña. We didn't go inside,
but this used to be a  monastery.

Me and my friend, Keiko

D.D. from Texas, Isabel from Perú, Natalia from New York, Ben from Michigan, and Scotney from Cali

Two totally amazing gals from Texas. This is Erin, our FBT coordinator.

Pimentel: Sorry I don't have more pics. Nice beach here. This was my boo-hoo day.

Youth vounteers work closely with heath posts as well as schools.
SIDA is AIDS.

Patapo: Another smallish town where we gave charlas and participated in an all-girls sports day to combat machismo.

Meeting the mayor. Wow! Look at the back of those sexy
Texans' heads!

This is a reay popuar game with the muchachas of Perú. You have to jump over the ropes that begin on the ground and keep inching its way up. Scotney is younger than me, physically and in spirit.

Just jump rope. This litte girl shared her teeny bag of chips
with all 12 PC people that were visiting.

Giving a charla about women's equality.

All the muchachos that were NOT allowed to participate
in the all-girls soccer game

Helping paint a wall in town that would eventually have
pretty drawings and sayings put there by a local youth group

Chiclayo, the capital city of Lambayeque:

These wall paintings are all over the city, put there by a local
youth group, called "Acción Poética," Poetic Action.
This one says, "What does your heart say?"

Every town in Peru has at least one park. This is one of
many in Chiclayo.

Scotney, hugging a person-shaped bush.
Friggin tree-hugger! LOL!

Greek statues in a Peruvian park.

What a sexy beast!

The whole youth development, coast FBT group.

My shower head in the hostel that provided me with hot water.
Oh! How I love thee!

An artisan fashion show, organized by a PC Vounteer.

A museum with Señor Sipan, a leader in a pre-Incan culture.
Cameras were not allowed inside, but it was really cool.

Scot directing traffic.

Street drawing with chalk

You may notice that some of these pics are not turned vertically. I am now in my site. Although I have Internet in the house (I am very spoiled), it is not American internet. It took 2 1/2 hours to upload 12 pictures two blogs ago (and on this computer, the "l" only works when it wants to and the "u" sticks realy bad) and the Internet is for sale in my house, so that was 2 1/2 hours that my generous family lost money. Please relish in these pics and with some luck, in the future, I will get my Skydrive working. 

Also, if anybody needs in any further reading into what my life is like, here's a couple of links for friends and family of Peace Corps Volunteers:

http://files.peacecorps.gov/multimedia/pdf/faf/PC_Family_and_Friends_2012.pdf

http://files.peacecorps.gov/multimedia/pdf/faf/homefront.pdf

Miss you a!