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The Blackboard<\/h1>\n
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By Rodrigo Oswaldo Merchan M\u00e1rquez<\/p>\n
Quito, Ecuador<\/p>\n
[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_margin_tablet=”” custom_margin_phone=”||||false|false” custom_margin_last_edited=”on|phone” custom_padding=”0px||||false|false” da_disable_devices=”off|off|off” global_colors_info=”{}” da_is_popup=”off” da_exit_intent=”off” da_has_close=”on” da_alt_close=”off” da_dark_close=”off” da_not_modal=”on” da_is_singular=”off” da_with_loader=”off” da_has_shadow=”on”][et_pb_row column_structure=”3_5,2_5″ _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
That dawn, a Thursday in November 1988, was unlike any other. Outside the Salesian Mission in the parish of Zumbahua, Ecuador<\/strong>, the wind struck fiercely and the cold seemed to freeze everything in its path. The clock read 3:00 AM, time to wake up.<\/p>\n My fellow volunteer Vicente and I ate breakfast, then put on our warmest clothes. We slung our backpacks over our shoulders, filled with popular education pamphlets from the Fe y Alegr\u00eda Radio Institute, along with teaching guides for math, language, social studies, and natural sciences. We set out to cover the 30 kilometers (km) between Zumbahua and the community of Guayama San Pedro in the parish of Chugchil\u00e1n, much of it across highland terrain.<\/p>\n Holding On<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n In our hands, we carried a blackboard, 1.22 meters (m) wide by 2 m long, painted on both sides, which we held upright as we walked. It had been kindly donated by Monsignor Jos\u00e9 Mario Ruiz Navas, then Bishop of the Diocese of Latacunga.<\/p>\n At 3:30 AM we were ready to begin our walk. Wool gloves, socks, and balaclavas were essential as the wind would blow hard and the dust would cover our bodies. As we walked, we gripped the blackboard with all our strength, one hand on the top edge, the other on the bottom. Sometimes Vicente led; at other times, I did. We switched sides, right to left and back again. Our only goal was to hold it firmly. Neither of us wanted to be responsible for any damage.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”9px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n View of Zumbahua. Adaptation of “Circuito Tur\u00edstico Zumbahua Chugchilan, prov. Cotopaxi.<\/a>” by Ministerio de Turismo Ecuador. Licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Our First Test<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n We finally passed the first community, called Pucaugsha, whose name comes from Kichwa, an Indigenous Andean language, and can be translated as \u201cRed Straw.\u201d Everyone was asleep, though a few dogs noticed us. They approached, barking and threatening us. Neither of us let go of the blackboard. Using it as a shield, we protected ourselves and slowly moved away from the danger. Our heart rates returned to normal.<\/p>\n We reached part of the route that crossed a sandy plateau over 5 km long, between the entrances to the communities of La Cocha, whose name means \u201cThe Lake\u201d in Kichwa, and Quilapungo (\u201cGateway of the Moon\u201d). Here we had to double our strength to hold the blackboard. In the open field, the wind blew harder, and the flying sand impaired our vision.<\/p>\n The Plateau Pushes Back<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n I feared the blackboard might break in our hands under the force of the wind and never reach its final destination. Vicente began to sing: \u201cCaminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar<\/em>,\u201d made famous by Joan Manuel Serrat. It wasn\u2019t the first time I\u2019d heard him sing that song, especially when faced with difficulty.<\/p>\n He was from Guayaquil and was seven years older than I. At the Salesian Mission house, we teased him, saying he was \u201cthe best economist in Zumbahua\u2014because there\u2019s no other.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”9px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n The Illiniza peaks. Photo “<\/span>Illiniza<\/a>” by alexandre. Licensed under <\/span>CC BY-NC-SA 2.0<\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n The Long View<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n At 6:00 AM, we were nearing the ridges of Quilotoa Lagoon (\u201cPrincess\u2019s Tooth\u201d), nearly 4,000 m above sea level. To the east, the sun began to rise. The air was crisp, the sky blue, the cold froze the soul. We could see the Illinizas, two snow-capped sibling peaks over 5,100 m tall. The locals told us, \u201cIn about 30 years, they won\u2019t have snow anymore. The warming will leave only bare rock.\u201d Looking back now, it is clear how much of that change has already happened.<\/p>\n We were alone, guarding the blackboard, which by then felt like many things at once: an amulet, a treasure, a good intention, and perhaps even pain and penance. In any case, we were halfway there, with the blackboard in our exhausted, numb hands.<\/p>\n The Moment We Feared<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n Crossing the highest sandy ridges of the lagoon, which lies atop the crater of a dormant volcano and is 250 m deep, a sudden gust of wind tore away our precious cargo as if it were a napkin. It was swept down the slope and disappeared from view. I couldn\u2019t look away, not even to admire the lagoon\u2019s turquoise waters. I saw Vicente drop his backpack and run after the blackboard. Without a thought, I followed.<\/p>\n Wouldn\u2019t Dante Alighieri have done the same if Hell had taken away his Divine<\/em> Comedy<\/em>? Wouldn\u2019t Ulysses have reacted the same way if something had threatened to separate him from his beloved Penelope? Wouldn\u2019t an eagle throw itself into the void with all its strength to save its eaglet from falling to its death?<\/p>\n After twenty-five minutes of slipping, falling, stumbling, and running, we finally caught up with the blackboard. Luckily, it hadn\u2019t reached the water; otherwise, this story would have had a sad ending.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”9px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Quilotoa Lagoon. Adaptation of “<\/span>Quilotoa<\/a>” by simon_berger. Licensed under <\/span>CC BY-NC-SA 2.0<\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Uphill Again<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n We began the climb back uphill. We fought against grass, branches, shrubs, sand, and exhaustion. After an hour and a half, almost breathless, we reached the spot where we had left our backpacks. We then continued on our way.<\/p>\n We resumed the final stretch of the journey to Guayama San Pedro, eight kilometers downhill along the sandy slopes of the volcano. This time we carried the blackboard flat to reduce the risk of another assault from Mother Nature. It was harder to carry that way, as the highland slope was full of bushes.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”9px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n The slopes past Quilotoa Lagoon. Adaptation of “<\/span>Quilotoa -> Chugchil\u00e1n<\/a>” by Ramblurr. Licensed under <\/span>CC BY-NC-SA 2.0<\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n At Last, Guayama San Pedro<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n According to our plan, we were supposed to arrive by 8:00 AM to begin classes at Jatari Unancha, the first school created in the entire Zumbahua\u2013Chugchil\u00e1n region. Its purpose was to support bilingual teachers from the local schools, since most had only completed primary education. The vision was for teachers to finish secondary school, then go to university and become professionals. Years later, that dream has come true.<\/p>\n Twenty Indigenous students awaited us, mostly men, with only two women. By our calculation, our arrival would be delayed by three hours. For Vicente and me, arriving late meant disrespecting ourselves, and, possibly, others.<\/p>\n A Place for Learning<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n We reached Guayama San Pedro just before 11:00 AM. Our students were waiting. One said, \u201cWe knew you\u2019d come.\u201d Seeing us with the blackboard on our shoulders, they ran to meet us, taking it in their hands and on their shoulders, running their fingers along its rough edges. As if it were the greatest trophy in the world, we placed it on the classroom wall.<\/p>\n From that Thursday in November 1988 onward, Vicente and I no longer had to write in the sand with a stick to help students understand their lessons. The blackboard rested against the classroom wall, and with it came a sense of permanence. After the wind, the cold, and the long road behind us, learning finally had a place to stay.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ _module_preset=”default” text_font_size=”9px” text_line_height=”1.2em” custom_margin=”-40px||||false|false” custom_padding=”||||false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Archival photo from the author, taken at the Salesian Mission in Zumbahua, Ecuador<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n What Endures<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n A father, seeing the blackboard on the wall, once exclaimed, \u201cNow yes! Our children will be able to learn\u2014it\u2019s not like before.\u201d<\/p>\n Years later, other parents would say the same words when they encountered new tools: internet connections, virtual whiteboards, artificial intelligence. Each generation, faced with a new possibility, believes learning will finally become more accessible.<\/p>\n And perhaps they are right, at least in part. What remains constant is not the tool itself, but the hope that our children will have more opportunities than we did.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.27.4″ global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Have a suggestion for this story? We\u2019d love for you to\u00a0submit it<\/a>!<\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS-ridgeline_katarinayee-Flickr_600-x-400.png” alt=”Mountain trail winding through the highlands of the Andes in Ecuador, surrounded by dry grass, rugged peaks, and dramatic cloud cover.” title_text=”Ecuador Cotopaxi GMS ridgeline_katarinayee (Flickr)_600 x 400″ align=”center” force_fullwidth=”on” _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS_Quilotoa-crater-lake-Canva_600-x-400.png” alt=”Crater lake surrounded by steep Andean mountains and lush highland vegetation under a cloudy sky, likely depicting Quilotoa in Ecuador.” title_text=”Ecuador Cotopaxi GMS_Quilotoa crater lake (Canva)_600 x 400″ align=”center” force_fullwidth=”on” _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_accordion _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Blank” open=”on” _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_css_main_element=”display: none; ” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n Blank<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Math Resources” open_toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}” toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ toggle_font_size=”18px” open=”off”]<\/p>\n Sample Problems:<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Social Justice Questions” open_toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}” toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ toggle_font_size=”18px” open=”off”]<\/p>\n In this story, lessons in Guayama San Pedro were sometimes written in the sand with a stick. Two volunteers carried a blackboard 30 km to the school.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Explore Further” open_toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ _builder_version=”4.27.5″ global_colors_info=”{}” toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ toggle_font_size=”18px” open=”off”]<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_accordion_item][et_pb_accordion_item title=”Share Your Story” open_toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}” toggle_text_color=”#0a1766″ toggle_font_size=”18px” open=”off”]<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS-Zumbahua.png\")
<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS-Illianza.png\")
<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS-Quilatoa-Lagoon.png\")
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<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/mathkind.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/Ecuador-Cotopaxi-GMS-author-at-Mission-House.png\")
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