Day 5

6/12/13

Yesterday we woke up early to visit Andrea's mom in the hospital, where she is fasting and resting before her surgery. We first went with Angelica (little sister) to print something that she was making for her friend's birthday at one of the many super-cheap copy centers that lined the streets around the university, eat breakfast while helping her cut out little hearts and stars to glue to the big yellow cardstock card, and then drop her off at her university before heading back over to Abuela's to pick up some things to take to Mom. We picked up the uncle (22-year old) again to take to school, but to the nearby hospital first. The hospital was a public bureaucratic endeavour, so they didn't want to let Andrea and I through, telling us ambiguously to 'come back later'. We told the uncle this, and he disappeared into the building and came back a few minutes later empty-handed. Apparently some combination of his dashing blue eyes and the guilt trip he gave the guard about leaving a poor sick woman without any clothes or pillow did the trick. We then took him to school and stopped to pick up some surprising things from the pharmacy to take to the hospital, such as IV equipment-- public health care being such that patients and their families occasionally need to supplement all of the free stuff they're getting with a few store-bought things. Again, call me un-American, but I find this system infinitely better and (to prove my patriotism), shows the good side of capitalism, too-- medical services and supplies are bought on an open market, where competition keeps prices roughly equivalent to actual value. So we picked up the things and went back to the hospital, where Andrea gave the name of her mom's roommate to get in, and I gave the name of the mom, since only one visitor was allowed per person at a time. I know, we're huge rebels, but I have no moral qualms about this. Anyway, by that time it was almost 11, so after visiting with Mom for half an hour, Andrea offered to take me to her cousin's house before going to class. We stopped by the house to eat just a little, and to pick up some of my tutoring supplies (and her school supplies), then she dropped me off. The grandmother told me that Mateo had lied about slash failed to mention a large math assignment yesterday and hadn't had time to finish by the time they found out about it, so that's the first thing we did when he got home and settled in. Imagine me teaching an unfamiliar method of division in a second language in which I can barely pronounce the numbers and don't know the words for “add/subtract/multiply/divide”. It was kind of a mess, but basically, Abuela, who I'd earlier learned had had a career in the ministry of education, did a few demonstrations and I taught him at his pace as soon as I caught on. Abuela moves very quickly, and the mother says that she doesn't teach so much as do it for him. We made a good team, though. After that, we read a story in English that he'll have a quiz on today, and then Abuela helped him with Spanish language homework, writing sentences from easily confused words (homophones, basically). I learned a lot by hovering. We were also multitasking, as we watched a very important soccer game. Ecuador was playing Argentina, and apparently the game would decide who was going to some kind of world cup next year. They were well-matched and it was a one-to-one tie at the end of the game. Shortly after the soccer game and with the assignment still in progress, Mami and Papi arrived home. I heard Magali and Mateo getting in an emotional discussion about notes one teacher had sent home about the incomplete math assignment, and from another teacher, about a notebook he'd failed to bring, but when the mom came out I told her that he was now caught up in math and understood the division much better. I think this made everyone feel better. Tutoring is essentially the same anywhere; you really take a weird mediative role in the family in a lot of ways. Since kids are more prone to listen to tutors than parents, I often remind the kids that they have to use manners and human decency with their parents, which has been the case with Mateo so far. I think he suffers from the same problem I do, where it is hard to see when you're treating the people you love most badly, as you believe you've come to an understanding, created a love language in which that's acceptable. But it's not. Anyway, I settled on an arrangement with the mom: Monday through Thursday afternoons for however long at $5 per session. In the Ecuadorian economy that's a pretty standard exchange, and $20 per week will be perfect to fund my transport there and other places. On Friday and Saturday, I plan to tutor the others when I don't have weekend plans. It'll be less frequent, but that's necessary both because it's farther away and because the kids don't seem to need standard homework help. After this, I asked if Magali could help me call a cab, and she responded that she'd take me back home after dinner, which was (as I'm learning is standard), lunch 2.0. I don't mind, though, it's good food. Table conversation was pleasant, and we talked about my time in Quito, Mateo's progress in English, generalities of travel, their travel experiences, my home, etc. Just as we were finishing up, Andrea arrived, and she ate a little dinner before we went home. There, we hung out in the big bedroom, watching youtube videos by a fantastic slow-rap group called Calle 13 (Street 13) that discussed a lot of social issues (I tried to explain the tug I felt to this music as a spoken word poet). She laid patiently as I awkwardly rambled through weird philosophical points in Spanish-- about poetry, society, whatever, before going to sleep. I definitely talk too much, regardless of the language. But you know that. :)