What I learned from a student whose feet didn’t touch the ground

Olivia Wittels
Notes from the Field
4 min readJun 12, 2015

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Barrio Norte, Guatemala

On our way to the regional office in Quiché, we stopped at a PoP school in Barrio Norte. We arrived in the early evening so school wasn’t in session, but a group of men from the community were meeting inside the building. After warmly greeting and welcoming us to their community, one of the men began to speak about the history of their particular school. He said when the community first approached the government asking for help building a school, they were told it would be impossible — due to its location, no structure would be able to support the inevitable flooding during the rainy season.

But the children in this community had to cross a busy street and then trek over an hour up a muddy mountainside to attend school, and the community refused to take no for an answer; they decided that they needed a closer, safer place for their children to receive an education.

The provisional school structure in Barrio Norte.

The man told us that the community members in Barrio Norte took it upon themselves to build a tunnel to deal with the water and flooding, and then constructed a provisional classroom with tin roofing and planks of wood. Thus even while the community was told it wouldn’t be able to sustain a school, it went ahead and built a provisional structure. Fast forward to a little over a year ago, when the community inaugurated its official PoP school.

The new school in Barrio Norte, inaugurated in May 2014.

Today we stopped by Barrio Norte on the way back to PoP’s main office in Xela; this time, school was in session. We peeked into a classroom of pre-schoolers, who looked at us with wide eyes and shy smiles. We tried not to distract them with our cameras (we failed), and one student in particular couldn’t keep the indescribably adorable smile off his face when a camera was pointed in his direction.

I captured a more candid moment of him, and needless to say the look in his eyes pretty much epitomizes the sentiments that the man from Barrio Norte shared with us a few days earlier, that “thanks to Pencils of Promise, we will all continue to move forward.”

Because of this community’s persistence, and PoP’s support, this young boy with big, brown eyes has a genuine opportunity for a better future. His feet may not touch the ground when he sits at his desk, but that’s perhaps the best way (cliché as it sounds) to address his potential.

I recently heard a song called Waves, which is about someone whose relationship is failing; he uses the sea as a metaphor to describe the feeling that he’s drowning. Obviously this particular theme is irrelevant to a global education organization, but I couldn’t help but think about one specific lyric when I saw this little guy’s feet dangling from his desk:

“My feet can’t touch the ground and it feels like I can see the sands on the horizon.”

While the song Waves is about a breakup, these words (in my opinion), speak to the power inherent in education. Education truly does have the capability to make waves — it changes the lives of individuals, communities and even entire countries. After traveling to the field to see Pencils of Promise’s work firsthand, it’s clear that the fact that this student’s feet don’t touch the ground at his desk is a beautiful thing; because of an education, his horizon holds infinite possibilities. The promise these students have is tremendous — limitless, really — and education is the key to unlocking it.

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Check out #PoPFieldTrip on Instagram to follow our adventures in Guatemala, Ghana and Laos.

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Olivia Wittels
Notes from the Field

Emmy Award winner, Federer & Shakespeare enthusiast. Cornell grad + Berkeley Law J.D.