A group of boys in the center toss a paper airplane, a toy they constructed from my attendance sheet. A few rows back, three other boys roll across the tile floor in a wrestling match that involves choking each other with a scarf. Two girls who won’t leave my side interrogate me in Spanish about whether they can use the bathroom while another five question me in dismay: “Why are you speaking in English?”

Welcome to the first day of my fifth and sixth grade English class. There are 23 students aged 10 and 11 who don’t know what “how are you?” means. And there’s me — far outnumbered and far from proficient in their native Spanish tongue.

The group is one of four of my English reinforcement classes that I teach in a sector of Santiago called Independencia. Much of the area is populated by “middle-income families,” which is defined as households earning US $20,000 per year despite rising costs of living that are now comparable to the U.S. A large percentage of families, however, make even less and live below the poverty line.

One of my schools is in a typically immigrant neighborhood, home to many Peruvians who have moved to Chile in search of better opportunities. The students come from a background of poor-quality education and often struggle in the higher-standard Chilean school system. Some of my students have been separated from their older siblings and, sometimes, even one of their parents, in order to reside here in Chile. Regardless of nationality, many live with single-working parents who rely on them to care for their younger brothers and sisters, despite them being young children themselves.

5th graders Alex, Tare and Jonathan fight about who gets to be in the photo while practicing colors.

Add learning a foreign language into the mix of their already troubled world, and now, everything is difficult. They are easily frustrated by their inability to fully understand their teacher. They are anxious. They are worried to make mistakes.

I only see them once a week for an hour and a half, so progress is painfully slow. But there’s progress.

We’ve finally conquered the all too famous question: Why am I speaking in English. Unaccustomed to their English teachers actually using the language in class, they’ve come to realize I’m not like their other English teachers. That concept brings a whole new slew of questions (in Spanish): “Are you from the United States? Wow! Las Vegas? Why do you live in Chile? Do you know Justin Bieber? How did you learn English?”

They’re curious. They’re ready to learn. They repeat every word I say with great enthusiasm, sometimes rolling the words across their tongues a second or third time for good measure. When they realize they just might understand my instructions for the next task, they smile somewhat astonished, and quizzically ask for affirmation in Spanish just to be sure: “Corre a la pizzara y escribe la palabra correcta al lado de la foto?! … OK!”

Excited, they are ready to play the game.

Have we accomplished some order since Day 1? Not really. So, here it goes.

They (literally) jump at any chance to participate, which often translates to 20 students waving their hands in the air shouting “Me, me, me.” Other times, they abandon any semblance of order and full-on run to the board to tape the vocabulary word next to its corresponding picture before they’re even asked. When it’s time to compete against each other during a game, shoving and yelling the common but semi-derogatory “weon” is to be expected.

It’s pure chaos.

I try to hide a sigh that is riddled with dwindling patience. All attempts at establishing order have already proven futile. But, they’re having fun. And if there’s one thing I want to give to these children, motivation to learn is it.

I smile and egg them on to be the first to finish the competition. The chaos continues.

This photo  sums this class up perfectly. Half of the kids are excited to participate and show off their work, while the other half is either misbehaving or absolutely clueless to what is happening.

Take Two: Now that everyone understands what’s happening, the kids are SO excited to be in the picture that they fight to be in the front row / attempt to cover each other up. While they unleash their “chaotic craziness,” I try to remember this is also known as “childhood.”

At a different school, I teach another group of 5th through 7th graders who are the complete opposite. They are still overjoyed to participate, but by some miracle actually listen to instructions and can sit still for longer than two minutes. When things get a bit rowdy while transitioning between activities, I easily recapture their attention with a fun call-and-response scheme that I’ve tried to perfect with the other group to no avail.

I’ve come to really notice how my students with difficult home lives are the ones acting out in class. It doesn’t take long to figure out how desperate they are for attention when they cling to me, begging for a hug to last “just one more minute.”

My literally angelic class of 5th-7th graders.

I also teach a class of 7th and 8th graders and a group of high school freshman, and although my teenagers are calmer, they come with their own set of struggles.

On the first day of class, I released the 7th and 8th graders on their own for a 5-minute break. Only half returned. “Two can play that game,” I thought. I re-took attendance and submitted their names to the dean who gave them a firm talking-to the following afternoon.

But once those students actually stayed in class, the real problems began. There were the two popular 8th grade boys who sat in the back rolling their eyes and crossing their arms in defiance and another boy who insisted on sitting in isolation from the rest of the class and yet another who hid under the table any time he was called on, causing an uproar of laughter from the others. There was the girl who kept her face buried in her arms as she sprawled across her desk and another who constantly whined “Don’t you know Spanish?! Ughhhhh!”

But it’s been a few weeks, and now my class is hardly recognizable. Somewhere between me dancing and miming in front of the room to teach vocabulary or  us all rocking out to The Cure’s “It’s Friday, I’m in Love” to learn the days of the week, the teenagers started participating — with a smile.

Every class is a new adventure that I never know what will bring. For example, below, is a rare moment of peace in my rambunctious 5th and 6th grade class while they match the English colors and numbers to create a picture. When they were finished coloring their birds, they passed an oral quiz with flying colors (see what I did there…hehe).

All my students can now introduce themselves, ask and answer “How are you” and express their hobbies in English. They can identify their colors and numbers, classroom objects and even spell certain words. Some can even talk about what their plans are for the upcoming weekend (a question that some of my ninth graders take pleasure in answering: “I am going to smoke weed this weekend.” At least they used proper English? Sigh).

I love watching their progress, even though it can be a difficult process.

Melanie and Antonella, two of my sweet 5th grade girls who always want to sit at my table in class.

Tirza and Heydi who always tease me for mispronouncing their names.

I leave school every afternoon utterly exhausted, ready to collapse from the feeling that my kids have stolen every ounce of my energy. But when I walk in the next day, I am reinvigorated by their smiling faces, big hugs and motivation to learn.

—JDF