I was helping Rosa work on her multiplication of 2 digit number the other night. “That’s not how my teacher showed me how to do it!” she exclaimed, frustrated with my assistance. “Well that’s fine Rosa … but you’re doing it wrong!” I said (though only to myself and not out loud). It actually reminded me of the days of doing homework with my parents.

Or then there was the night I was quizzing Mariela and Elsy on their science. “Studying” for these kids means memorizing word-for-word the question and then vomiting back the answer (mind you asking questions out of order or wording them differently is deemed as quizzing poorly). “What is the function of the circulatory system?” I read to them. “The function of the circulatory system is,” they echoed back. “I think you’re response is missing something,” I said, glancing at the piece of paper which had the same words written. “Um, that’s what was written on the board and that’s what the teacher said and that’s the right answer!” they yelled back at me. I tried to reason with them, explaining that their answer was nothing other than the question without the word “what,” but then they told me my problem was that I didn’t know Spanish… so we just moved on to other questions.

Sometimes these kids are so stubborn. When they get mad, it’s my fault. And when they get frustrated, it’s because of me. Or in the classroom when they don’t know something, it’s because I didn’t teach it. Sometimes I want to tell them to just suck it up … but that wouldn’t actually make anything better (nor is it very mature). I mostly just smile and let them ride out their anger. I remember being there. And sometimes it’s just easier to blame other people.

Maybe that’s what has made me more patient. Or the nights that I am exhausted, have been with the kids all day, and they just sit there climbing on me. This culture is touchier, and it’s great being able to hug and kiss the kids without being worried about a lawsuit, but when I’m looking for a little bit of personal space, children hanging from my extremities doesn’t quite cut it. I used to only have to wrestle with homework when I was tired, but little human beings add another dimension. Though taking out my tiredness on them also isn’t the thing to do, so I’ve learned to deal with it. I mostly I think of how much I’ll probably miss it when I leave.

I’ve also learned how to discipline better, how to be firmer, less passive and take less crap. I say no without feeling guilty. I’ve gotten better about listening to their complaints and just smiling. I make them say please and thank you. And I don’t really care if they like me, even those it’s hard when the ones you really like get mad at you.

But I still have such a ways to go. My tías are incredible with the kids and I wish I had their character. They’re creative, fun, loving, caring and the kids respect them so much. That doesn’t mean that the kids always do their homework or chores and are never mean or disrespectful, but the tías are brilliant about dealing with the bad stuff. I often tell them that, but they just assume I’m being nice.

And I love observing class from some of the teachers because they have such good rapport with their students. And I know that comes with time and education, and that I’m in the process, but sometimes I wish I was already there.

But until then I’ll keep making up math problems. And saying “good afternoon” to the kids when they tell me “good morning!” at 3pm. And being patient. And watching, and learning, and growing.