This may not seem related to expropriation, but it is (see *) (and also I couldn't post it on my other blog because it references my current location).
Since I've been here, my brain has frequently revisited the topic of learning languages, and I've convinced myself that learning a foreign language in the school system is a really lame idea, if not impossible. Some personal examples coming. I studied Italian for YEARS in the university system, and could subsequently speak trivialities if I tried really hard. I lived in Italy for five months and could finally hold a meaningful conversation. I studied Spanish in high school for years and could order a taco, but could never remember if I wanted it caliente or picante. I've lived in Argentina for 11 months and can almost effortlessly maintain a philosophical and political argument about why gays should be able to adopt.
I think the reasons for these phenomenon are common sense, if not obvious. In high school, you're not given a choice -- you're obligated to take a foreign language, and you're involuntarily dropped into a relatively non-interactive, highly-structured, disempowering, artificial, and non-gratifying environment. In the university, you get to choose to enter a relatively non-interactive ... non-gratifying environment. In short, this artificial environment abstracts us from what should be the real goal, which is not to get the teacher to give you a good grade, but to be able to talk to people in the desired language. (Very much like the conventional work environment abstracts us from the real goal, which shouldn't be the compensation, but the finished product as a contribution to society.*)
For me this raises questions about our school system in general. If we learn foreign languages better in a real-world -- interactive, dynamic, empowering, and gratifying -- environment, why not other things. Maybe without the pressure-induced, mind-numbing, mechanical learning experience of school, the inherent desire to explore and learn and progress -- the one that we were all born with -- could prevail. Maybe the school system is what's killing us; teaching us to go for the grade instead of seeking real personal development; teaching us to obey authority instead of driving our destiny; teaching us to be taught instead of teaching us to learn.
Setting aside the environment (as if it could be set aside). and ignoring material issues (like disney-approved U.S. History stories), the status quo learning process raises questions itself. Why do we have to learn math for years so we can use it in something applicable like astronomy or computers? Why do we have to nail grammar structure before we can use it something interesting like a conversation? I'm not saying that there is no place for math or grammar -- I am a seriously huge fan of both -- I just don't see why we can't just jump in and learn the fundamental basics through experience, through the process of learning what we ultimately want to be learning. Unless what you ultimately want to learn is math or grammar, which is totally cool. What I'm trying to say is that our system is largely based on the delay of gratification, and delay of gratification is... not gratifying.
Maybe those rebel kids that wrote "fuck school" on their binders were right the whole time. Maybe California is on the right track, and the next step is to shut down ALL the schools. Maybe school told Google it would be a good idea to ruin the internet. Maybe school is NOT cool.
11 August 2010
10 August 2010
2010.08.10_secret sources report from Bolivia
reports from Bolivia on the indigenous movement's challenges to the Bolivian government of President Evo Morales.
August 10, 2010
"Capitalism merchandises everything. It seeks continual expansion. The system needs to be changed. We have to choose between change or death. Capitalism is the number one enemy of mankind."
-- Evo Morales, Bolivian president"[T]here won't be a socialist revolution in a nation of small producers...We aren't thinking about socialism for the immediate."
-- Álvaro García Linera, Bolivian vice president
FIVE YEARS after the historic election of Evo Morales and his Movement Toward Socialism (MAS) party, ordinary Bolivians are beginning to realize the limitations of reforms possible in a world system of capitalism.
Bolivia remains one of the poorest countries in Latin America, and it's led to a regional version of state capitalism called... (find out here)
06 August 2010
05 August 2010
2010.08.04_I can't believe we're still protesting this shit.
Oh noooooo! The Argentine conservatives were RIGHT. Let The Gays marry in one country, and they'll want to do it all over the world. Now what do we have... California's precious Prop 8 threatened? Good god what's next. Equality for EVERYBODY? Constitutional rights?? Communism?!?
(prop 8 protests, SF, 2009)
02 August 2010
2010.08.01_critical mass, buenos aires
From San Francisco to the Obelisco...
...es una masa! Una masa crítica! I made that up myself. I also made up "Bici sí! Otoño!" Well that's what I thought we were yelling, which doesn't make sense, cause it's winter here. "Bici sí! Auto no!" is way harder, and fortunately what it turns out we were actually yelling.
Also, at the starting point, I took a break from Critical Mass to join a protest against doggy abuse, so that's why those photos are there.
Also, at the starting point, I took a break from Critical Mass to join a protest against doggy abuse, so that's why those photos are there.
15 July 2010
2010.07.15_el matrimonio gay
At almost four in the morning, after 14 cold hours, Argentina's Senate finally ran out of words and settled on passing gay marriage, making itself the first Latin American country to make this huge step against discrimination and for equal rights -- even to stupid things like marriage. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
08 July 2010
2010.07.08_cochabamba futból wars
Bolivia might be the nicest place on earth. Here is approximately how my first experience in Bolivia went:
Immigrations agent: Do you have a visa?
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have the forms required to obtain the visa?
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have a photo?
Me: Yeah, in my passport.
Immigrations agent: No, a separate photo, for the visa.
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have 135 USD to pay for the visa??
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: "Está bien."
Hahaha. Wait, really? He then accompanied me to the ATM so I could take out the 120 dollars I had in my account, then to the exchange booth to change my Argentine pesos for the rest, filled out a quarter of the paperwork, skipped the photo thing, and handed me a visa along with my change in Bolivianos. He then pointed me in the direction of my next personal servant, who was waiting to direct me to my next plane -- which was happily waiting for me. It's like they all took a Accept Everything & Be Happy course!
Other than that, or maybe because of that, or maybe the reason for that, the country is really colorful. I tried to do my usual black and white routine, but couldn't bring myself to drop these colors:
The only downer (besides your run-of-the-line Latin American poverty) was this place...
...the Convento de Santa Teresa, where the second daughter of every family was once destined (the first married to ensure the family's economic security and the third was reserved to change their parents' diapers when the time came). In the convent, they weren't allowed any contact with the outside world. Like ANY. They could see their family once a month -- well, not really see, but hear, as there were bars and black curtain to prevent stimuli overload. They sold goods to the community through a revolving cabinet. They could talk to each other for an hour during dinner -- the rest of the day was to be spent silently working in prayer. Sounds rough, but at least if you paid a lot of money, you got a black veil and more rights. They treated their own wounds and diseases, as any doctor that entered the premises would have to be killed before departing (I made that part up to make the rest seem less offensive). The bad news is that there are still women in there. The good news is that it looks like they're the last of them, as the switch to consensual admission hasn't been good for the cloister business.
The semifinals for the World Cup in the Plaza Principal (the same plaza where the people hung a banner that read "El Agua es Nuestra, Carajo!" and so went the Cochabamba Water Wars and the expulsion of Bechtel) marked my last day in Bolivia. Sometimes I love sports, and this day was one of those sometimes. Everyone was rooting for Spain, because after your country, and after your continent, it apparently comes down to language. Hundreds of strangers from all demographics gathered for a common cause and yelled in unison (it was the Water Wars all over again!). The motivater? Nothing but a ginormous screen with the resolution of a 7-inch with rabbit-ear antennas. It was incredibly charming.
Immigrations agent: Do you have a visa?
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have the forms required to obtain the visa?
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have a photo?
Me: Yeah, in my passport.
Immigrations agent: No, a separate photo, for the visa.
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: Do you have 135 USD to pay for the visa??
Me: No.
Immigrations agent: "Está bien."
Hahaha. Wait, really? He then accompanied me to the ATM so I could take out the 120 dollars I had in my account, then to the exchange booth to change my Argentine pesos for the rest, filled out a quarter of the paperwork, skipped the photo thing, and handed me a visa along with my change in Bolivianos. He then pointed me in the direction of my next personal servant, who was waiting to direct me to my next plane -- which was happily waiting for me. It's like they all took a Accept Everything & Be Happy course!
Other than that, or maybe because of that, or maybe the reason for that, the country is really colorful. I tried to do my usual black and white routine, but couldn't bring myself to drop these colors:
The only downer (besides your run-of-the-line Latin American poverty) was this place...
...the Convento de Santa Teresa, where the second daughter of every family was once destined (the first married to ensure the family's economic security and the third was reserved to change their parents' diapers when the time came). In the convent, they weren't allowed any contact with the outside world. Like ANY. They could see their family once a month -- well, not really see, but hear, as there were bars and black curtain to prevent stimuli overload. They sold goods to the community through a revolving cabinet. They could talk to each other for an hour during dinner -- the rest of the day was to be spent silently working in prayer. Sounds rough, but at least if you paid a lot of money, you got a black veil and more rights. They treated their own wounds and diseases, as any doctor that entered the premises would have to be killed before departing (I made that part up to make the rest seem less offensive). The bad news is that there are still women in there. The good news is that it looks like they're the last of them, as the switch to consensual admission hasn't been good for the cloister business.
The semifinals for the World Cup in the Plaza Principal (the same plaza where the people hung a banner that read "El Agua es Nuestra, Carajo!" and so went the Cochabamba Water Wars and the expulsion of Bechtel) marked my last day in Bolivia. Sometimes I love sports, and this day was one of those sometimes. Everyone was rooting for Spain, because after your country, and after your continent, it apparently comes down to language. Hundreds of strangers from all demographics gathered for a common cause and yelled in unison (it was the Water Wars all over again!). The motivater? Nothing but a ginormous screen with the resolution of a 7-inch with rabbit-ear antennas. It was incredibly charming.
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