Note: IHF supporter and volunteer Jenica Wozniak recently spent a week at our partner site in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala. We will be posting a few of her observations and thoughts here over the coming week or two. This first piece reflects on her experience working with students in the IHF’s secondary school scholarship program.
A teacher myself, I was eager to work with the scholarship students here in Guatemala and do whatever I could to lend a hand. I tutored a couple of students one morning, and left the library with a web of tangled observations and questions.
Most kids here go to elementary school, though not all of them graduate from 6th grade. I don’t have any data, but one estimate is that about a quarter to a third of them go on to secondary school.
I worked with two kids that morning. Rebeca arrived first and she is sobresaliente en todo (outstanding at everything). Then Francisco arrived, and he needed a bit more help. He didn’t understand everything I said, so Rebeca helped us out by translating into Tz’utujil, the local Mayan language. And he can’t express himself very well in Spanish, so I’m beginning to understand why school is hard for him.
We started with math, which he seemed to understand pretty well. Then came an art-like class, which I didn’t really comprehend. He wasn’t really drawing anything himself, but rather learning about different art terms. We talked about perspective and things like that. And then came the list of vocab words. He had no textbook to reference, just a notebook filled with definitions that included some very tricky technical vocabulary. It looked like Francisco had copied down the definitions from somewhere without bothering to get the spelling right. And he clearly didn’t understand what the definitions meant because they were too complicated. Think college-level terminology and grammar. As we struggled through the exercises, I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world it was supposed to be helpful to Francisco and productive for his education.
In light of that experience with Francisco, I came up with a few thoughts for how towns like Santiago Atitlán might go about improving their educational systems. I’m not an expert in Guatemalan education policy, of course, but here’s what my experience as a teacher leads me to suggest.
First, all of the children need to complete at least the first half of secondary school. Those three extra years beyond primary school provide an immense boost to the array of career possibilities open to a student. The value of education must be recognized and taught. And the school day needs to be extended so that children are receiving instruction for more than four hours a day.
Next, the education must be available. The Guatemalan government must put forth the money so that the children are able to go to school and have the materials necessary to do their work. This is a tough one given Guatemala’s relatively poor economy and the fact that, according to the Heritage Foundation, government tax revenues account for only 11.9% of GDP (by way of comparison, Uganda is at 12.6%, India is at 17.7%, and the US is at 28.2%). But a situation where secondary education costs at least $150 a year in towns like Santiago, where many families scrape by on about $3 a day, clearly calls for some solution.
Finally, the teachers need to learn better strategies so that they can more effectively instruct the students that come to them. They need to simplify the concepts and use vocabulary the students understand. They need to provide activities that allow students to interact with the material. They need to use formative assessment to more frequently monitor student achievement. And they need to provide more individualized assistance for the students who struggle. All these changes are, clearly, difficult to enact, because teachers themselves need training. They are, nevertheless, necessary.
I believe that the well-being of a society depends on the education of its youth, and Santiago Atitlán concerns me. Is this the best we can do? While I don’t imagine I’ll ever make much of a difference in Guatemalan education policy, I am doing what I can by sponsoring a scholarship for one student in Santiago. More on that next time I post.
- Jenica
In quite a few circles, trickle-down economics has something of a bad rep - and deservedly so. The theory that cutting taxes on the wealthy is a sure-fire way to improve life for everyone has not fared particularly well in its confrontation with economic reality. They’re not new, but these two articles, from TPM and Robert Frank, do a pretty solid job of running through the empirical evidence that trickle-down theory is about as accurate as a two-buck psychic. Recent events, however, lead me to wonder whether its critics are being too harsh on trickle-down economics. My current visit to IHF partner site in Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala, has driven home that there is, indeed, at least one context in which trickle-down theory has something valuable to offer, namely, an economic crisis. A story from that visit will, I think, do the best job of clarifying what I mean.
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| Candelaria at Biblioteca Puerta Abierta |
Last night, I had dinner with Heidi, the Executive Director of the IHF; Jenica, a Spanish teacher who is volunteering with IHF’s scholarship program; and Candelaria, the 19-year-old tutor and teacher who supervises the scholarship program and provides study hours for the students. We sat at the corner table of the Posada de Santiago - a table with quite a bit of history for the IHF - and talked about the state of the scholarship program, Candelaria’s various educational jobs, and life in Santiago. After a while, the conversation turned to the subject of Candelaria’s family, specifically her five younger siblings. All but the youngest are in school, and the income from Candelaria, her mom, and her dad barely pays the bills, especially since one sister lost her scholarship due to lack of funding for the sponsoring organization. The entire program had folded because donors didn’t have as much to give as in the past. While the IHF’s program continues, we had to cut its size by 64 percent between 2008 and 2009 to keep it afloat. Here, it occurred to me, was a concrete example of trickle-down economics!
The current economic crisis started at the very top, with investment bankers and other financial professionals making egregiously irresponsible bets on the mortgages of people who, in great part, had been pressured or enticed into thinking they could afford to borrow hundreds of thousands of dollars that they, frankly, could not. When the bets started going bad, those i-bankers lost big. But the losses didn’t stop with them. Of course, they hit the people who’s money the professionals were managing. But then, the effects trickled-down. From i-bankers to IndyMac employees to factory workers and every tax-payer in the United States.
The trickle-down effect of the crisis did not, however, respect national borders. Money flows freely from country to country these days (not in itself a bad thing), so there is hardly a community in the world that doesn’t somehow feel the effects of a crisis originating in the rarefied atmosphere of the US financial system, whether in the form of lost jobs or, as in the case of Candelaria’s sister, lower budgets for development organizations. The end result is that when American investment bankers make bad moves, kids in Guatemala lose their scholarships, and more families get closer to the brink of having to decide between education and sufficient food. The trickle, it seems, only flows when things are falling apart.
P.S. Be on the lookout for a video profile of Candelaria and her incredible educational work soon. It’ll be posted here and on the IHF’s main site, internationalhf.org.
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