Lessons from the First Day of School

As I mentioned in my previous post, last Monday marked the first day of classes for the students at the Primaria in Chaquijyá Central. Wearing new clothing and all armed with new notebooks, the school’s 300 students gathered on the basketball courts to listen to speeches by the school principal. Anxious to meet their new teachers and classmates, the younger students could hardly stand still and received frequently “Hush!”’s from the nearby teachers. Feeling mature and important, the sixth grade students coolly positioned themselves against the back wall, crossed their arms, and obviously felt way too cool to be in the same school as the tiny first graders. Overall, the scene almost perfectly matched my memories of primary school. I was astounded by the similarities between this first day of school in Chaquijyá and the opening days I experienced when I was in primary school in Virginia.



However, shortly after the introductions, an event occurred that was completely foreign to me. Before entering their classrooms, the teachers divided each grade into sections. Now, the division itself did not surprise me, as I could hardly imagine one teacher trying to lead 50+ students in a single classroom. Instead, what astounded me was the way in which these divisions were made. Esteban, the school’s director, instructed each grade to form a line in the center of the basketball court. He then moved through each line, and alternating each student, randomly assigned each student to a different section. Upon learning their section, the students ran to their new classrooms and eagerly waited to see which ones of their friends would be in their section. Ultimately, each class contained a random assortment of students, including different friend groups, skill levels, and learning styles.

These divisions astonished me. In the American private schools with which I am familiar, the faculty spends hours upon hours assigning students to different classes. Whereas the Guatemalan parents seemed content with the class sections, many American parents would in fact be livid, if their children did not have friends in their class or receive their desired teacher. Many American private school parents possess strong opinions regarding the school’s teachers and will advocate for their children to be with those teachers who they believe will most likely help them to excel.



Watching the divisions continue, I began to wonder the cause of this dissimilarity. Generally, despite their plethora of differences, I believe that the American and Mayan cultures share a surprising number of commonalities pertaining to education. No matter their incomes or number of children, parents in Virginia and Chaquijyá possess the same dreams of sending their children to universities and enabling their children to lead successful lives in an occupational field they enjoy. What larger cultural differences fuel this specific divergence regarding education?



Ultimately, it boils down to this: the culture of United States hinges on its emphasis of the individual, whereas the Mayans possess a community-centric culture. In the United States, individuals are encouraged to examine themselves, explore various activities and subjects that satisfy them, set goals, and then make those goals happen. Success is the by-product of individual initiative, diligence, and resourcefulness. Because of this mentality, American parents feel pressured to personally ensure the development of their children as successful individuals, and consequently they take active roles in deciding what authority figures will contribute to this development. Their children need teachers who best suit their individual learning styles, and consequently parents sometimes hesitate to trust the teachers who might not fit their children’s individual needs.

Conversely, Mayans in Guatemala perceive their children primarily as part of a larger community, and their children’s development is linked to the overall community’s development. Accordingly, while most parents attend monthly meetings to better the school and the community, few parents argue for their children’s specific academic needs. Teachers are community members and therefore all of them merit trust. By and large, Mayan parents believe that the community will support the children and their futures will be products of the community’s demands and opportunities.



Whether at the individual or community level, at the end of the day, Mayan and American parents are always seeking to improve the lives of their children in whatever capacity they can. I am so grateful not only to be working for the betterment of the children’s education in Chaquijyá, but also to have the opportunity to live in a different culture. Interestingly enough, by living in another culture, I have learned so much about my own culture, and I am so excited for my remaining months with Manna Project International.