Archive for February, 2008

Education in Honduras

February 9, 2008

Continuing with the reasons why Hondurans say “Estamos Fregados“, her is a little bit about what I´ve observed about the Honduran educations system:

            The vast majority of the Hondurans I have met are concerned about education. Just as a college education is seen as the key to success in the United States, Honduran parents dream of providing a university education for their children. However, for most families, just putting their children through secondary school requires an effort.

            The Honduran education system is structured similarly to the U.S. education system. Children start out with kindergarten and then six years of primary school. Secondary school is divided into two parts: ciclo común, which is three years of general high school, and carrera or bachillerato. Carrera or bachillerato lasts for two or three years and it is at that point that students start to specialize. Students that are going to continue studying in the university usually get their bachillerato, which is a general arts and sciences education. Students who want to enter a profession study a carrera. The most common carreras seem to be perrito mercantil, accountant, and negocios, business.

            Normal Honduran children seem to make it through primary school and most probably make it through ciclo común. Studying a carrera is another step up though. Honduran families I have met take pride in having kids who are professionals, meaning that they studied enough to get a carrera. Most of the kids I know in Ojojona and Tamara were on a track to study a carrera but I probably know kids who have more resources than most. Some students need to work by the time they’re 15, so study at night or on weekends to get their carrera. In Ojojona, the only carreras offered are tourism and business. For anything else, students have to travel to the nearby town of Santa Ana or to Tegucigalpa.

            While public education is available at all levels up through university, it is not free. Families must provide uniforms and school supplies. There are also various other incidentals that I did not realize would be part of education. For instance, every sixth grade class that graduates from Ojojona’s primary school gives a gift to the school, such as new desks or chairs. Each family is expected to contribute something like 500 lempiras (25 dollars) toward the gift. They pay by making periodic installments throughout the year. For “Día del niño“, kids’ day, there is a party with food at school. Parents are expected to pay for the cost of the food.

            Some educational expenses are not mandatory, but are more of a status symbol. For instance, on September 15, Honduran independence day, students march in the parades that take place in every town. In Ojojona, some students just marched in their school uniforms. Others were part of different groups dressed in costumes: cheerleaders, Indians, drummers. Those that wear costumes have to buy them. Every year, the Ojojona primary school elects a queen from the student body. The election is decided by ticket sales. Students sell tickets as a fundraiser and the girl who sells the most tickets is chosen as the queen. This year the girl who won has a mother working in Spain. Esperanza said that she sold 6000 lempiras ($300) worth of tickets, mainly to her mother, in order to win.

            For teenage students, the biggest cost of studying is probably their time. Many teenagers have to work to help support their family, making studying a considerable burden. Because of this limitation, many Honduran teenagers study at night or on the weekends.

            The biggest complaint I have heard about Honduran public schools is lack of instruction time. Hondurans have holidays for everything: kid’s day, women’s day, teachers’ day, even taxi drivers’ day. Many of these holidays are days off from school. Combining holidays with teacher workshop days and days that the teacher is sick, students spend quite a bit of time on vacation. Teachers also strike regularly, causing students to lose more class time. School days here are also much shorter than in the United States. Primary school is only in the morning, from about 8 a.m. until noon. Reina, the woman whose house I eat at in Tamara, said the teachers have a tendency to send kids home early, sometimes as early as 10 or 11 a.m.

            Honduran teachers seem to be paid pretty well. Antonio told me they start at about 5000 L a month, well above the minimum wage of about 3000 L. They can work their way up to make much more and have good job security. Teachers must study two or three years beyond Ciclo Común to be certified to teach. The disadvantage to the job is that they usually have to start out teaching in aldeas, small communities relatively far from civilization. Teachers must work their way up to acquire jobs in larger more desirable communities such as Ojojona. Because teachers are paid well and strike often, many Hondurans I have talked to think they don’t work hard enough.

            For families who don’t want to put up with teachers’ strikes and countless holidays, there are private schools of varying price ranges. The priciest private schools are bilingual. Students receive half of their instruction immersed in English. Several of Esperanza’s nieces and nephews go to bilingual schools and speak English proficiently. The schools follow the U.S. school calendar and even celebrate U.S. holidays such as Thanksgiving.

            While on paper the Honduran education system looks just like the U.S. system, it clearly is lacking in substance. Honduran kids go through the same number of years of primary and secondary school, but receive much less instruction time because of short school days and frequent days off. The fact that Hondurans who can afford it send their kids to private schools does not speak highly of the public system.

This Blog´s not Dead Yet

February 9, 2008

           It’s been a busy month since I returned to Honduras in early January after a couple weeks at home for Christmas. So busy that I haven´t written anything in my blog for months. Or maybe I´ve just been lazy. It doesn´t help that there´s not internet in Tamara, the town I´m living in now. But I´m not giving up on the blog yet.          The first two weeks of January, 18 students from Cornell were visiting. In those two weeks they (and we) traveled to most of the places Carol and I had been to over the course of our first four and a half months here. The students flew into San Pedro Sula, the industrial center of Honduras. From there we spent three nights in Tela, a beach town on the north coast. While staying in Tela we visited La 34, a town with the first Cornell-designed treatment plant in Honduras. We also visited a large municipal treatment plant that serves Tela. On the way south from Tela we spent a night on Lago de Yojoa, the largest lake in Honduras. From there we spent three nights in Ojojona, where the Ojojona plant was formally handed over to the water board and community. After Ojojona, the students spent four nights in Tamara, where construction was beginning on the new plant. Before the students left, we spent two nights with them in Marcala, where IRWA (International Rural Water Workers) is building a plant similar to the AguaClara plants with technical support from students at Cornell. Needless to say, being on a whirlwind tour with a bunch of English-speaking Cornell students was a change of a pace. It was more or less an extension of winter break.

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Lago de Yojoa, the biggest lake in Honduras.

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Tamara Plant Groundbreaking. (Foreground L to R: Dick Atkins, member of the Rotary Club funding the plant, Monroe Weber-Shirk, Cornell Professor in charge of AguaClara, Alejo, Tamara water board president, Jacobo Nuñez, Agua para el Pueble Director)

           I have been living in Tamara, the site of the next AguaClara plant, for over two weeks. Tamara is a community of a few thousand people 40 minutes to the northwest of Tegucigalpa. Technically it is an aldea (or outlying suburb) of Tegucigalpa. This means that Tamara doesn’t have its own mayor and is politically a part of the capital. Although not that much smaller than Ojojona, Tamara has a much different feel. There are fewer services: no internet, no restaurants. Ojojona is a popular spot for people from Tegucigalpa to spend the weekend. Tamara doesn’t have that kind of tourist draw.

            While Tamara isn’t as picturesque as Ojojona, the people are extremely nice. Tamara has not had as many foreign volunteers as Ojojona, so people here are a little more surprised to see us and interested to talk to us. All of the members of the water board have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome. When the Cornell students came to visit we had trouble at first finding families for them to stay with. The water board was worried that the houses in Tamara wouldn’t be nice enough for the students or that people wouldn’t have room for them. After visiting some houses, however, we found enough beds for everyone. Even though we were accustomed to paying families to lodge students in Ojojona, the families in Tamara wouldn’t hear of it. The students paid for their food, but slept for free. When they left the water board had a small gift for each of them as a remembrance of Tamara.

            I’m renting a 10-foot by 12-foot cement-block room from the parents of a member of the water board. There are three rooms like mine in a row on the same property. One room is used a storeroom for our project and the other is occupied by the two foremen in charge of the construction of the treatment plant. We share a flush toilet and shower that are located in a separate building outside. Also on the same property is a larger house that is occupied by a young couple from Tegucigalpa and their toddler daughter. The man works late and the young woman hardly leaves the house, so I don’t see too much of them. A man on the water board lives right next door to me and another right across the street, so I feel very safe here.

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 My home in Tamara. My door is the closest one.

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Looking toward the street. 

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Shower on the left, toilet on the right, pila in the middle.

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 Inside my room.

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The other half of my home.

           I’ve been fixing oatmeal on a small hotplate in the morning and eating lunch and dinner at the house of a woman named Reina. She lives about a block away with her two daughters, Estefania and Johanna and Johanna’s two-year-old son. Her niece Roxanna and Roxanna’s husband Leonel and their infant son are also living with Reina currently. Depending on the day various other nieces and nephews are in and out as well. Carol and Antonio, our Honduran co-worker, also eat lunch at Reina’s. I usually stay an hour or so after dinner to watch the news and chat with Reina and her family, so have gotten to know them pretty well.

            Construction on the Tamara treatment plant has been underway for a month. At this point the floor of the tanks is poured and they are laying brick for the tank walls. While the Ojojona plant was structurally designed by a Cornell student with support from a U.S. professional engineer, the Tamara structural design was done by a Honduran engineer who works for Agua para el Pueblo. The Honduran design looks much different from the U.S. version. While the Ojojona plant was built with concrete blocks, the Tamara plant will be built with brick, which is more available here and workers are more familiar with. Most of the tank walls in the Ojojona plant are two concrete blocks, or about a foot thick. The Honduran construction workers said they had never seen a structure so reinforced as that plant. The walls of the Tamara plant will only be one brick, or 6 inches thick. While this makes construction much cheaper, it worries me a little. However, Wilfredo Serrano, the Honduran engineer we are working with, assures us that the tanks will be plenty strong. Since we are not structural engineers and he is, there’s not much for us to do but put our faith in him and assume the tanks will hold water.

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The Tamara plant, a work in progress.

            While part of our job here is to supervise construction of the plant, we can’t do much supervising since we don’t know much about construction. What we do know is how the plant should look when it’s done: where the pipes should be, how big the tanks should be, and how tall the walls should be. Revising the plans and measuring what is being built, we can make sure that things come out the way they’re supposed to. We’re also still keeping tabs on the plant in Ojojona and looking for other potential communities for treatment plants.