It's getting worse . . .

There are a handful of high schools in Copan Ruinas, but the vast majority of students who pursue secondary education in the area attend the central high school in Ostuman, a community about 1km from the town center. Now, as I've mentioned before, just completing sixth grade is considered an important accomplishment in this part of Honduras. Most of the students who choose to continue their education beyond this point come from middle and upper class backgrounds.

For students from the small rural villages in the surrounding areas or from poor families in town, the material and transportation costs often make continuing schooling beyond sixth grade an economic impossibility. However, there are many young Hondurans who find ways to manage the cost and to enroll in the colegio (high school). Some of them are lucky enough to find individuals or organizations to help cover costs, others get jobs in town and work to support their studies.

In recent years, a new program has emerged at the local high school. This program operates on weekends and crams five days worth of school into the two-day weekend. The program is wildly popular because it enables students to work during the week and attend school during the weekends. For students in the rural areas, this program cuts transportation costs, as they only need to travel two instead five days per week. The program had great potential to increase school access. Unfortunately, things are not going as planned.

Now, I should mention at this point that my primary sources on this matter are students, and that I have not yet been able to track down education officials to verify their reports, but I will at least share what the common understanding of the situation seems to be.

1. The weekend school runs for approximately ten hours each weekend and supposedly covers content equivilent to that taught during twenty-five hours of normal weekly classes.

2. There is a matriculation fee for the weekend classes, but none for the daily classes.

3. Enrollment in the weekend program swelled from 600 to 900 students this year.

4. Many students were turned away on matriculation day because the school is beyond capacity.

5. The weekend program was scheduled to begin last Saturday, but did not.

6. Students are pulling out of the weekend program and trying to enroll in the traditional weekly program because it now seems that the weekend program may not happen this year.

7. 900 students who enrolled in the weekend program for high school level this year in Copan Ruinas, may find themselves without any oportunity to continue their education this year.

In the next few days, I hope to track down the local education director, as well as the school directors, in order to sort out rumor from fact. Regardless of the outcome, it seems safe to say that their is a crisis in education at the secondary level in Copan Ruinas.

Education Denied

Last week, a new school year began in Honduras. My once-quiet morning walks are now punctuated with the sound of children shouting to their friends as they clamor to get to school. It should be a hopeful sound, but I know that there are many young faces absent from the blue and white uniform clad masses this year. Some are in the fields, working to help feed their families; others, after years of overcrowded classrooms and insufficient attention from teachers, have simply given up, resigned at age ten to years working in the fields under the hot sun. The Honduran government has failed these children and allowed them to complete a cycle of poverty that an adequately funded education could have broken.

In no situation is the government’s failure more evident than in the case of Marisol. Marisol is sixteen years old and she is the hope of her community. When she completed sixth grade, a feat in itself in her village, she convinced her skeptical parents to allow her to continue her education. Because the cost of transportation to and from the nearest high school was more than she could afford, she enrolled in an alternative, self-directed program called “El Maestro en la Casa.”

Anxious to share her educational good fortune and help her community, Marisol started teaching kindergarten, as there was no official post for the position in her village. She wasn’t paid much, but she saved what she could. She had high hopes of becoming a teacher one day and she knew enrolling in a bachillerato program would be expensive. In December, she completed ninth grade and she had a stroke of luck: an American volunteer in her community agreed to help Marisol pay her school fees. She was one step closer to her dream of becoming a teacher.

Then, she had the door slammed in her face. On enrollment day, Marisol arrived at the front of the matriculation line, after hours of waiting, only to be told that the school was full. She was devastated. Marisol overcame long odds to even consider standing in line to matriculate that day, but despite having done everything right, Marisol was denied the educational opportunity that she deserved.

Who deserves the blame in this situation? The school? The teachers? The government? It’s true, strings could be pulled and another student could be added to the already swollen student body, but what would that accomplish? Marisol was one of many turned away on matriculation day and the school barely has sufficient resources to educate the students already enrolled. To ask teachers to take on more responsibility and expand their class sizes even further would do little more than lower the overall quality of education for everyone. No, it is not the school, nor the teachers, who must take responsibility for this educational crisis: it is the Honduran government.

It is a sign of progress that more Hondurans are reaching secondary school, but getting them to the door is not enough. The Honduran government must guarantee that there are enough qualified teachers and secondary schools available to meet the educational needs of every young Honduran like Marisol. To do this, they must inject sufficient resources and funding into secondary education. By denying an adequate education to its most promising youth, the Honduran government is disabling its citizenry’s most powerful tool for sustainable, long-term development.

November & December: The abridged version.

I've been a bad blogger. Here is a recap of the past two months. Enjoy!

November 3-December 12: Field work and interviewing at La Estanzuela.
My research has been taking a lot turns and detours over the past few months, but I've primarily been working in a local village and interviewing parents, teachers, and students about their personal experiences with the school system and education in general.

November & December: Graduate School Applications: Round 3!
I applied to nine graduate programs in Public Policy and Administration and shelled out a painful amount of money in application fees. Happily, the process is now over and now I can devote my time to figuring out how the hell I'm going to pay my tuition.

November 20-23: Tegucigalpa Trip.
Graham and I traveled to Tegucigalpa with Nick & Nikki, Tyler & Paige, Megan, and Mario (Graham's co-workers at Mayatan Bilingual School) for the Discovery School Conference. I chilled out in the lobby of the swanky Teguc Marriott Hotel and analyzed my field notes while they hit up workshops on classroom strategies with teachers from the most elite schools of Honduras. The Honduran Secretary of Education, Marlon Brevé Reyes, whose children attend The Discovery School, opened the conference by informing the audience of educators that "Honduras has a very low-quality education system." I can't help but wonder if that would change if some of the people in power started sending their children to public school . . .

November 27: Thanksgiving!
We hosted a Thanksgiving potluck at our house. Graham and I were committed to having the Thanksgivingy-est Thanksgiving ever. So, we adorned the house with historical information about the holiday (in English and Spanish, of course), paper Turkeys, Thanksgiving comics, we tracked down A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, and we cooked a ton of food. We ended up with a ton of food and a good chunk of the local ex-pat crowd at our place.

November 28-29: Border Crossings Bicycle Style.
Graham participated in the Travesia Montecristo, a three day bike ride through Honduras and Guatemala. Graham and our friend Nick quickly became notorious among the Honduran bikers for their use of locally purchased $75 Bacini bikes. Check out Graham's blog for more info.

December 5-6: Un Año!
To celebrate one year of dating bliss, Graham and I decided to splurge and stay the night at Hacienda San Lucas, an awesome locale just outside of Copan Ruinas. Though the prices are a bit steep (at $120 a night Hacienda San Lucas provides the most expensive night's lodging in Copan) our experience was well worth it. Our five course dinner was made of all local food and prepared using traditional cooking methods. It was delicious.

After I woke up and did some early morning yoga at the outdoor meditation space, Graham and I took some time to explore the extensive grounds surrounding Hacienda San Lucas. We had to check out Los Sapos (the toads), an area thought to be an ancient fertility spot for the Mayans. All that remains is a carving of a toad, a man's face, and something that is undeniably phallic in appearance. The experience made me think twice about touching any toads in the near future.

December 16: Return to the USA!
Graham and I woke up painfully at 3:20AM to the incessant howling of a cat in heat outside our window. By 4:45AM we were on our way to the bus station, Graham hauling my suitcase packed with Christmas gifts over his shoulder and me dragging Graham's 55 lb suitcase over the cobblestones. The 2km walk was pretty unpleasant, but we caught our bus and were at the airport by 10:00AM. We parted ways at the airport and I finally arrived home in Sodus at 1:30AM EST, a mere 21 hours after my day of travel began. Then, it started snowing!

December 17-January 1: Home sweet home.
After four months in Honduras, I got to return home to spend some quality time with my family. It went by way too quickly and I can't wait until everyone comes to visit in May!

And the winner is . . .

Barack Obama!!!!!!!!

This week has been so fantastic in so many ways, it has been difficult to decide how to begin this week's blog. The truth is, one event superseded all others this week. Watching Barack Obama win the presidential election was one of the most incredible moments of my life.

Obama's election was the not the first historic moment I've experienced from overseas. On September 11, 2001, I was sitting in a classroom in London when the director of our study abroad program rushed in to tell us that the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane. A year and a half later, on March 30, 2003, I was in Costa Rica watching television with my host family, when I heard the announcement that the United States had invaded Iraq. On Tuesday, November 4, 2008, over five years later, I sat in a pizza shop where an enormous Honduran flag served as the backdrop for epic words that flashed across the television screen "Barack Obama Elected President!" The crowd that had gathered erupted in cheers and I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe this man could start to heal the wounds caused on 9/11 and 3/30.

By about 1pm on election day, I found myself unable to do anything productive work-wise (perhaps due to my need to check cnn.com every two minutes for any potential clues on the direction the election was going in) so I decided to begin preparations for an election night extravaganza. I know that some of you in the more developed world probably hosted fancy election return parties, but I had to work with what I had available. After a little brainstorming I decided to make the following contributions to election night festivities:

1. Cupcakes with Obama flags.



2. Sugar cookies with blue frosting and Obama pictures on top (no photo available).

3. Blank maps of the U.S.A. and blue and red markers (to keep track of electoral wins!)



4. A big poster that read YES WE CAN! YES WE DID!

I received a fair amount of teasing from Graham for my Obama baking spree, but he graciously helped me carry trays of sugary treats across town. We both looked pretty silly traipsing through Copan with Obama cupcakes, but the end result was well worth the walk of shame. The Obama heavy crowd loved the baked goods and other election fare and we all celebrated together when the West Coast returns were announced and tipped the scales undeniably in Obama's favor. It was a great moment and, though I missed being with my loved ones in the States, our election night festivities turned out to be a great bonding experience for everyone involved.

Oh, my aching belly.

Living in Honduras can do a real number on your digestive system. Nasty bacteria and parasites lurk on tasty looking vegetables and fruits, just waiting to attack weak-stomached foreigners. I would love to count myself among the stomach-of-iron, “I can eat anything,” human garbage disposal types, but the belly gods had something else in mind for me last Saturday. Perhaps I didn’t put enough bleach in the water when we washed our vegetables last week, or maybe the ice in my fresh lemonade wasn’t not of purified origins. I may never know the culprit in my digestive tragedy, but I was definitely the victim.

Don’t worry. This is not a Halloween horror story (if you really want to know the details of my symptoms, google giardia); it is a tale of post-sickness renewal. Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling better than I had since my arrival in Honduras. It may have had something to do with my ability to eat something other than oatmeal for the first time in four days, but I felt like a new woman.

Things just kept getting better after that. After weeks of waiting, my absentee ballot finally arrived (I requested it back in August) on Wednesday! Initially, it looked like my vote wasn’t going to count. My district requires that all absentee ballots arrive within seven days after the election and it usually takes three weeks for mail to get to the USA from Honduras. Obviously Obama doesn’t need my vote in New York, but there is a hotly contested House seat up for grabs in my congressional district (a republican stronghold) and the democratic candidate, Dan Maffei, needs every vote he can get. Besides that, I desperately wanted to cast my vote for Obama, even if he is a sure thing in New York. Eventually, I was able to find a service that can get letters to the States in eight days and my ballot is now on its way to the Wayne County Board of Elections.

Halloween is not a holiday typically celebrated in Honduras. Locals observe All Saints Day and a few recognize Day of the Dead, but I wasn’t expecting there to be much action on October 31st in Copan. In fact, at the beginning of this school year, Graham’s bosses at the bilingual school gave specific instructions to staff to keep a low profile on Halloween. Upon some investigation, we discovered the root of the anti-Halloween directive. Apparently, a few years ago, a staff Halloween party caused quite a stir when Mayatan teachers were spotted stumbling home (perhaps slightly intoxicated) at 4am on All Saints Day in strange costumes. People in the community, unfamiliar with the much-beloved American Halloween tradition, suspected the teachers of being involved with some sort of strange satanic rituals. Cultural confusion at its best.

Much to my own surprise, I did end up going out with friends to celebrate Halloween this year. There were nearly a hundred Peace Corps volunteers in town for the weekend – a boon for Copan during the low tourism season. The volunteers flock here annually from all over Honduras and Guatemala (some spend 11+ hours on the bus) for a Halloween party at Via Via, a local bar. It was my first night out since I arrived in August (I’m embarrassed to admit) and throughout the evening I had the sneaking suspicion that I’d somehow been transported back to the States. I was celebrating an American holiday, surrounded by twenty-something gringos, and dancing to a band that sang almost exclusively in English. It was slightly surreal, but all in all a good way to celebrate Halloween. Favorite costume of the night: a man dressed as a backpack. He was literally wearing a hiking backpack - legs through the bottom, head through the top. Bizarre, yet somehow appropriate.

Accountability?

We don’t value teachers highly enough in the United States. They are under-paid, overworked, and consistently the scapegoats for all educational woes. Consequently, teaching is not a profession that is attracting the best and the brightest young minds in America. In Honduras, young people are flocking to the education profession. What makes Honduras so different, you ask? In Honduras, teachers are highly paid, they do not have to pay taxes, they receive a government pension when they retire, they are generally well-respected and viewed as professionals, and their job security is absolute. Unfortunately, the high status of teachers does little to reflect the functionality of the education system.

Honduras is an excellent example of how exalting the role of teachers does little to solve systemic problems in education. Before I go on, let me assure you that I am not advocating against improving teacher pay and benefits, as a former teacher I strongly support improving the status of education professionals. However, without sufficient accountability, oversight, and support, rewarding teachers does not improve educational outcomes.

Over the past two months, I’ve had countless conversations with Hondurans about the state of education in the country today, and there is one thing that everyone agrees on: the education system in Honduras is fundamentally broken. According to a recent report from FEREMA, twenty-five percent of students beginning sixth grade in 2004 did not graduate at the end of the school year. Nearly half a million school-aged children (6-13) in Honduras are not currently enrolled in school. With over 50% of the Honduran population under the age of 18, this does not bode well for the country’s economic future.

Finding agreement on the roots of the country's education problem is a difficult task. People are angry and frustrated and while adults argue about who is to blame, the future of Honduras's youth hangs in the balance . . .

Flooding in Honduras

The Honduran President declared a national emergency last week in response to the extensive flooding that occurred due to heavy rainfall throughout the country. Over twenty people have died and over two-hundred thousand have been affected by the flooding, according to reports on Honduras This Week. Early reports from the UN News Centre indicate that UNICEF is extremely concerned: “The aftermath of a natural disaster like this one can be deadly for children, who are highly vulnerable to waterborne diseases,” UNICEF Regional Director for Latin American and the Caribbean Nils Kastberg.

We have been lucky here in Copan Ruinas. Our biggest challenge resulting from the deluge of water nationwide was a damaged water system. As I mentioned last week, the large volume of rain we received, caused a pipe in the town's water system to explode, thus cutting off running water to all of Copan. Parts of town were without water for well over a week, including our neighborhood.

I could complain about the fact that we didn't have water until Wednesday afternoon (and I did), but more than anything else, the experience reminded me just how privileged a situation we were in. First of all, for the first 3.5 days the rest of the town was without water, we were blissfully unaware, due to the fact we have a relatively large water tank. Then, when we really should have suffered due to our lack of frugality, our landlady saved the day by gifting us with barrels full of water. I'm not going to pretend that trying to bathe using a bucket of water and cup was a pleasant experience, but at least I had a water supply. We were able to wash dishes and counter-tops and ourselves without giving it too much thought.

Our neighbors, on the other-hand, were faced with a choice between no water at all or hauling back buckets from the chocolate-brown Rio Quebrada or the streams running into the Copan River. What kind of options are those? What health risks arise from a week of bathing and washing dishes in a river that is surely contaminated? What other alternatives exist?

I have never had to grapple with these kinds of problems in my own life, and chances are, because of where I was born, the color of my skin, and my family's status in society, I probably never will. The more I explore the world, the more undeniable the advantages of my birth become. In Copan, I am painfully aware of my wealth and privilege. I have a house full of furniture and food. I have indoor plumbing and wireless internet. I don't bat an eye at going out to lunch or paying to have my clothes laundered. My Fulbright stipend, which would barely cover my rent living in a city like New York, pays me in a month what a Honduran field laborer can only hope to make in a year. Taking that into account, it's not difficult to understand why so many Hondurans have made their way north to try and make their fortune in the United States. The money they send back builds houses, educates their children, provides health care to ailing relatives, and pads the struggling economy of Honduras.

I don't have any effective way to wrap this up. So, until next week, adios.