Questions and (some) answers

Saturdays is the day for catechism class at the Church, which is done on Saturday since there is not the space to do a (traditional) Church School program on Sundays. Fr. Hipólito picked me up at 8:30 outside the apartment, as usual. We were talking about various subjects, when I realized that we had failed to pick up Doña Adela. Turns out she wan´t coming since she was in San Pedro de Macoris for a diocesan meeting of the Daughters of the King. Not to worry, Fr H assured me, Maribel will be there and the two of you can do it together.

I suppose I would have been more reassured if I could actually remember who Maribel was, but I didn´t. And anyway, she didn´t. Show up, that is. So I was on my own.

Those who have worked with me know that I am quite comfortable leading children´s programs, and really enjoy working with them. However, I quickly realized a couple of things. First: I really wasn´t familiar with some of the vocabulary I needed to know to maintain order. Like: Listen up, people! or Is everyone using their listening ears? I resorted to something I thought was I would like everyone´s eyes up here. Which got their attention (briefly at any rate) when they looked at me as if I had invited them to participate in some sick American ritual of child sacrifice.

The other difficulty I faced was a rather different language barrier. Children seem to lack a sense of what it means that someone is a learner in their native language. They speak as fast to me as they do to each other, liberally using slang and shortcuts as if I understood precisely what they were saying. Which of course I didn´t. Throughout the morning children would ask me questions either mumbling or hollering or otherwise not articulating slowly and distinctly and using standard conversational Spanish. And aware of my priestly work of representing Christ, I smiled benignly and nodded my head after asking them to repeat themselves approsimately 50 times. For all I knew, they could have been asking me, ¨Father, my bratty little brother is bugging me. Can I pound him?¨ and in the name of Christlike charity I was permitting it.

Which brings me to the third and greatest difficulty I faced: Classroom control. Hard enough under normal circumstances, but add to the mix the language barrier, no curriculum or lesson plan, and a group of children aged 5 - 15 with widely varying abilities...you get the picture. Some of the older ones led the singing (more like choral shouting) since I know all of about three religious songs in Spanish. After we had sung them repeatedly, even the most patient of the bunch grew a bit restive, so a couple of the older ones led them in some songs that they (supposedly) all knew.

During which time, I hurriedly had to decide what the heck I was going to do by way of instruction. Over 20 years of priesthood I have learned -- in a pinch, use the Prayerbook. In the back is The Catechism, which I thought would be a dandy idea to use in catechism class. Those Episcopal, Roman Catholic, and Lutheran Christians of a certain vintage will remember the question and answer format as well as the memorization from dreary weekday afternoon sessions in the church basement. I chose 5 questions and answers from the Catechism, and proceeded to try to teach them to the children. Occasionally, when I grew exasperated with the inattention of some, I recovered enough language ability to ask them ¨Do you want me to go back to the United States right now?¨ which got the older ones upset enough to shush the younger ones briefly. Guilt and manipulation -- a great strategy in any language or culture.

At one point Fr. H came in to see how things were going -- believe me when I say that he gets their attention. The children know how much he loves them. And they also know that he stands for no nonsense. He gave a nice improptu lesson on Dios creador de todo lo visible e invisible. He later encouraged me by saying that in his experience, he has come to realize that you will never reach everyone, and if you reach 3 out of 100, that´s far, far better than reaching no one at all. Wise words, I thought.

Afterwards we did the most simple art project. I had purchased 5 large pieces of posterboard to make a ´Jesus loves the children´ mural. I traced each of their hands and had them draw a picture of themselves inside the handprint then write their names, too. They adored doing this project, and really threw themselves into doing the best they could.

The differences in the children´s abilities were very striking. Some could hardly write at all, some wrote legibly in good penmanship. One boy -- and I didn´t think he was fooling around -- wrote his entire name backwards. Isn´t that an indication of some kind of learning disability? If it is, I seriously doubt that the child has been diagnosed, and if he has, I doubt he´s getting appropriate intervention. Another tiny little boy seemed to be quite bright -- memorizing the catechism quickly, answering questions, etc. I thought he was quite advanced for a five year old. Turns out he was 8. I don´t know if he was battling a medical condition or if his stature is simply the result of malnutrition.

Which brings me to lunch, which was Comida Criolla -- white rice, abichuelas -- Dominican style beans which are much tastier than Mexican refried beans, and a piece of beef that had been simmered with many herbs and vegetables. I have said before that for many, if not for all, this is the best meal they will have all day, maybe all weekend. Fr H often has no idea where the funds for the next meal are coming from, and then a friend will give him a couple of thousand pesos, or someone will donate a sack of rice, or a couple of pounds of meat, and like the loaves and fish -- there is enough. This is faith in action.

When I got back to the apartment I was exhausted, and took a 2 hour nap.