Lesson 6: Proximity and sharing

I moved into the Casita de los Maestros one week ago yesterday. This house is a cement-and-wood construction with a large main room, small kitchen, bedroom, and a cold-water shower. Attached is a room that houses the town's tools, a collection left over from the residency of a Peace Corps couple. A new outhouse serves as the bathroom. It is spartan but comfortable, and I enjoy the luxury of cooking for myself. Future teachers at Alta Gracia will be housed here. For pictures, check out the beginning of the Photos From the Farm album, where I've added some new images.

What's most important about the Casita is that it is located right in Los Marranitos along the path where a majority of the community's families also have their home. It is built on a piece of farm land that is cut off from the rest of the farm by a road, and doesn't feel like the rest of the farm. Living "down below," on the farm, for the first two and a half months of my time here, I was isolated from the community simply because I did not live with them. I could pass through on walks ten times a day (which was not likely to happen, given the steep hill that the houses are located on!) and still be seen as an outsider. Living in the Casita, I instantly feel more a part of the community. I have neighbors! My neighbors watch out for me, and always remind me that they're here to help me as much as I am here to help them. It's fun to have kids wander in and enjoy the snowflakes I've cut to put up on my walls. I feel like the Pied Piper when I go down to the library trailed by a bunch of kids! I even enjoy hearing "Julie, vas a abrir la biblioteca hoy?!" being shouted at my open windows at least five times a day. Every time I hear it I think, didn't they always know the schedule of the library? Why do I have to tell them every day now? But I realize that it is the power of proximity that makes this question so urgent in the minds of some of the children: before they suspected they knew the schedule and they figured they would go down sometime in the afternoon; now they know that when I leave, I'm headed down. I stop to pick up regulars at their houses, they shout for me to wait so that they won't be left behind (mothers don't like their younger children to walk even the short distance to the library alone). It's great!

The Casita will be a great asset to future teachers at Alta Gracia. I am sad that I only have three weeks to live in it: I leave for the States on December 22nd, and leave behind the Casita (and the library, and Marranitos). Our latest hope is that, between teachers, the Casita will be used for more directly community-oriented Fundacion-Finca Alta Gracia projects, such as the host site of a traveling clinic.

Lesson 5: La jefa de la biblioteca

I am here in Los Marranitos as a volunteer teacher. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, in charge of the library. Oh yes, I do have a degree of control over what goes on within the four walls of our bright building. But do have any sense of being in charge? Hardly. One thing I've learned in the two months I've been here is that my primary goal, and, I believe, that of the library, should be to provide positive opportunities for the children and young adults of Los Marranitos, Finca Alta Gracia's community. However, I haven't been here long enough, don't know people and their circumstances well enough, and haven't penetrated the surface of encouraging people to take advantage of the resources the Fundacion-Finca offers them. In this local respect, I feel far from "in charge" of how people use the library.

The Fundacion-Finca Alta Gracia has an international aspect, too, and in this respect I also don't dream of carrying the responsibility of being "in charge." Sarah DiCandio, who until now has been in charge of sales of Cafe Alta Gracia, has recently taken on the role of directing the Fundacion (congratulations, Sarah!). She's working on various projects, including 501(c)(3) certification, all in the interest of developing the Fundacion's structure and capacity to work in the farm community. It will be she who monitors the progress of the library and manages its development over the years, as both teachers and students pass through these mountains. Saying this, and also that I have great confidence in Sarah's enthusiasm and dedication, allow me to admit that I don't think that Sara is "in charge" of the library, either. She answers to the true jefa (boss). I know that this person exists, because I saw her in action yesterday, right here in the library. That jefa is Julia Alvarez, author, enterpriser, dreamer.

Julia and Bill visited the farm this week and were busy from the minute their truck pulled down the drive. When they stopped in the library, they were on their way to pay a visit elsewhere. However, while Bill sat quitely reading one of the magazines that the kids were cutting up for collages, Julia set down her backpack and began entertaining. In the midst of the chaotic reality of this farm project, Julia slipped automatically into her place as teacher, role model, and source of inspiration. It seemed completely natural and fulfilling to her to burst into a silly song in relation to one of the children's drawings, and to challenge others to a math practice session (inspiring one girl to boast that she knew division -- when she doesn't -- and another to make me pledge to tell Julia that she'd received no help on her mulitplication problems). I stayed in the background, fussing with materials and watching as she captured their attention in a way that I've rarely done, even when I was new here. I don't pretend to be a teacher, which Julia clearly is, but I think she's got much more than that going for her. Julia Alvarez is in charge of the Biblioteca Alta Gracia.