My first class went OK today with Group 1B, but Group 1C is another story. There were constant distractions and interruptions from the moment that the students started walking into the classroom that I never even had a chance to start class today. I was too busy trying to extinguish the fires erupting all over the room. Before I could put one out it just seemed to spread and then I had a bunch of little fires throughout the room and couldn’t get to all of them or even know where to start. When I felt that the class was turning into a five-alarm fire, I left in search of backup. When I ran into the assistant principal on the first floor and said that I needed help with the same group that she and the principal had talked to on Friday, she said that I should look for a “prefecto.” When we found the “prefecto” she asked him to go to my classroom with me. When I desperately said, “Can you tell me what to do? How can I do this better?” She responded, “Watch Aurelio, just watch him.”
So I returned to my classroom with Aurelio and then he asked me to give him a moment alone with the students. Today was the most frustrating day that I have had and not only because of the students’ complete lack of respect. I am tired of not feeling like I know what I’m doing or how to be successful here. Today was different because I felt like I had no support – the assistant principal passed my problems off to someone else and then a teacher just told me to be patient and to calm down. So I reached to my pocket for my cell phone so that I could send a text message to Karina, my program coordinator, asking, “How do I quit?” But strangely my cell wasn’t in my pocket, as I almost always have it on me. I walked out of school feeling down, as if I had been beaten. I was miserable, depressed and hopeless that this situation would change.
I still had to finish my presentation for the Fulbright mid-term meeting so I headed towards Jenny’s house to use her computer. I stopped at an ATM so that I could buy lunch. I was in shock when I received two $500 bills; I truly felt that Mexico was saying to me, “F*** you.” You can’t use or get change for a $500 bill anywhere in Mexico, except maybe McDonalds or WalMart, and I had two of them.
Now feeling even lower, as apparently the entire country was working against me, I took a “pesero” to Jenny’s house. When I got on I asked the driver to let me know when we reach the street, “Kappa.” After a bit, I looked out the window and realized we were about to reach the street Pacifico, which is well beyond where Jenny lives. I hopped off, holding back tears, and trudged across the street, got on another “pesero” in the opposite direction and backtracked to Jenny’s street.
