Last Friday, we had to give “Charlas” to Grades 1 to 3 students of the Las Delicias Elementary School. “Charlas” are skits we volunteers give out to the community as health education lessons. Last year I gave one to mothers in the clinic, talking about the nature of amoebas and tapeworms, and I had no apprehensions. However, I wasn’t so sure this time on how to navigate a “charla” for 7-9 year olds. My cynicism lied not on the impact a health lesson might have on this age group but mostly on how to make a presentation that wasn’t too preachy, belittlingly simple, or worse, boring.
We arrived at the school kind of anxious but excited. Oddly, the moment we entered the compound, the bell rang for recess, and there was chaos. Kids started swarming out of the classrooms. The school infrastructure maybe old and drab and humble, but there was nothing old and drab and humble about the atmosphere full of kids that were extremely happy for recess time. At some point we started hearing shouts of “Gringos!” A couple kids I recognize shouted out some of our names, other unfamiliar faces expectantly came to us to exchange some “holas!” and high fives .
We were scheduled to give out our charlas after recess, so we went to the kindergarten classrooms to wait for the meantime. Some of the kids we know like Kenya tagged along and invited us to play “mica” (an equivalent of tag). A kindergarten teacher wasn’t happy of the commotion , so she motioned them to stay off the premises, iron railings separating us “Gringos” inside the kindergarten buidling from the elementary kids outside.
Kenya, always fun and silly, still continued the game albeit the physical separation. We loved her initiative (and resourcefulness) so we gladly went along. They would motion their hands in between the iron rails as far as they can to tag one of us, and shout “Mica, mica, mica, mica!” When it was time for us to do the same, they would run away, or even better, tease us, drawing their bodies in and out with a sarcastic look of “catch me if you can.” I adored this moment. Even though there was this separation of us from them, we still managed to find ways to reconnect. We still had a great time, with shared moments of teasing and silliness amidst division. I guess I liked it because this moment also reverberated to what we were experiencing culturally with each other.
The bell rang, we said our temporary goodbyes, and the kids lazily went back to their respective rooms. It’s charla time. We followed suit, walking in single file towards the main buildings. This time the grounds were eerily deserted. I noticed even more how dowdy the school infrastructure was.
Like any other public schools in El Salvador, this school housed primary, middle and high school in the same buildings. They have half-day schedules to accommodate every grade level. Two parallel buildings made of adobe house about 5-6 classrooms each, their blue and white paints peeling, the railings rusting. Separating the two buildings is an outdoor stage and a roofed gathering space. It rained the day before- skimpy showers from Agatha’s upshot- and the earth was wet and grimy. Mud and dirt made all their way to the walls, to the hallway floors, to the posts, the stage, everywhere. We waited near the stage before the teachers can motion us into their classrooms. We absorbed all we could muster from our surroundings and beyond....
“What does it take for a kid in Las Delicias to get a college education?” one of the volunteers asked, an air of cynicism enveloping around us. AK, the clinic FOM and community liaison, answered, “It takes a lot of hard work… and dedication. One has to be really motivated….. and really committed to her or his studies and……” Before he could finish his thoughts, someone summoned us, signaling that it was time to begin. But my mind did not stray away from the question. It made me uneasy. But why? Was I really curious about the answer or about the truth? In a community plagued by challenges, children are the most susceptible, and the truth could be disheartening. Many families in Las Delicias struggle day by day and education may not be a top priority… Disadvantaged children are more likely to join youth gangs and engage in violence. Moreover, many youth migrate to the urban areas and those who do lack the interest to invest in their own communities.
I thought of Kenya. I always pictured her to be successful someday. She is very smart, outgoing, ballsy, funny, and mature for a seven year old girl. The other day we joked about how we wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be a gobernadora or heading the municipio.
The challenges might be unnerving but glee is gleaming. Kids like her go on with their days like all of these do not even matter. Their cheerfulness, joy, and laughter seemingly nullifies the grim realities of their circumstances.
“Let’s go guys,” AK gestured . I took out my charla visual aids from my backpack. The Grade 1 teacher warmly invites us in. I stepped into the room, and the first thing I saw was Kenya, smiling.


