I was invited to a workshop by Jovenes Sin Fronteras, which means Youth Without Borders. Overall they have similar goals as the peace corps youth development program – a lot of grassroots education and leadership yadda yadda yadda. My new friend Karen is the director for the Siguatepeque branch and since we might be working together in the future, she thought it would be a good idea for me to go to one of their workshops to see how they do things. So I agreed to go to an all-day workshop for a group of sixth graders about HIV prevention, values and decision making.
My favorite way to spend a Friday.
When I showed up to the salon municipal up at 7 am, I expected to sit in the back of the room and quietly observe. Or perhaps help out a little and lead a few activities, since I have been doing this same kind of thing for over a year now.
But I did not expect to be handed a name tag and told to have a seat on a short bench next to a row of kids half my size. And age.
Turns out Karen’s idea of me getting more familiar with their program is being one of their students. Makes sense, but I kinda wish she had explained that to me in advance. Or perhaps she did and I just didn’t understand… which is a strong possibility.
Anyway, upon finding out I was to be a sixth-grader for the day, I instantly got nervous and worried. “This is not what I was expecting. Do I have to set a good example? What will the presenter guy think of me? What will the kids think of me? Will I have to play the dumb games too?” I was less than thrilled.
Before I even opened my mouth, the other kids were in hysterics because I unknowingly sat on the boy’s side of the room. Then we had to do the introduction game that involved a rhyme and a little dance and since I was sitting in the front row I was afraid the presenter guy would make me go first and I desperately did not want to go first because I didn’t understand the directions and I was afraid they would all judge me because I was different… It’s amazing how quickly a poised and confident person can be reduced to complete insecurity given the right circumstances.
OH AND THEN when it was time to do the “juego de risego” (Game of Risk) each person was given a little card with examples of different actions that either could or couldn’t transmit HIV. We were then supposed to read our card in front of the class and decide if it was a high risk, medium risk or low risk action. When I received my card, I about melted into the floor. I’m not sure what’s more surprising: the fact that anal sex is part of the middle-school curriculum, or that simply talking about anal sex would make me, the seasoned health education professional, get embarrassed and turn several shades of pink. It’s probably because I knew that all the other kids would laugh at me…
So like I said, it was odd being on the other side of the fence for a change. Usually I’m the one leading the corny dynamicas and flipping through stacks of charla paper and trying to maintain order in the room. Although I did help out the presenter guy by trying to get the crowd of rowdy boys to shut up and stop throwing balls at each other’s crotches. Unsuccessfully, I might add.
But for the most part, being a twelve-year-old is not easy. Pressures from peers, seeking acceptance from each other, approval from parents and teachers. As clichéd as it might sound, I felt like I was one of them for the day. I remember what it’s like to have a room full of people laugh at (not with) you, and it’s one of the most uncomfortable feelings in the world. It made me recall my own middle school days when I was lanky and insecure and wanted nothing more than to blend in and be like everyone else. But unlike my own childhood, blending in at that workshop was about as likely as LeBron James going unnoticed in the Kappa Delta house.
Despite the misplaced awkwardness of the afternoon, I had a decent time over all. It was a really really long day but worth the experience. (Through I don’t recommend spending nine straight hours in an un-air-conditioned cinder block room with a lot of sugar-high kids that think they’re all futbolistas.) On the plus side I learned some new approaches to working with kids and what passes for discipline here in Hondu. Turns out you CAN put kids in timeout and if you say it with enough conviction they will stay there. AND you can withhold their workshop diploma unless they pick up all the garbage in the room as punishment for bad behavior.
Speaking of which I did get this fancy diploma for my participation:
That is another thing Hondurans are big on – getting diplomas and certificates. Upon receiving his, one cute little boy sitting next to me stared in awe of the fancy paper with all five of his names neatly printed in large scripty font. He told me that he was so proud of his, he was going to take care of it for the rest of his life because he had never before received anything like it. It was touching because I could tell he was proud of what he had achieved and I think he was impressed with the “officialness” of the diploma. For all I know, that piece of expensive embossed paper is currently in the bottom of a trashcan or it could be tacked to the wall of the kid’s bedroom. Who knows. But the important thing is that he (hopefully) learned something new and is equipped with the conocimentos that will help him make better choices later on.
God bless the 12-year-olds. They have so far to go. And I am thankful I am no longer one of them.
–Sarita
