“Good morning, children. My name is Doctor Gaby and this is Doctor Shipley. We’re here to talk to you about how to take care of your teeth.”

I’m pretty sure that Monday morning was the third time I’ve actually set my alarm in the last two and a half months. Why would I impose such a heinous inconvenience on myself as to allow a clock to wake me up?

I’ve been pretending to be a doctor, lying to children, assisting in a national health program, and wearing clothes that aren’t my own. This is not the kind of thing you get a late start for.

My name is Doctor Shipley. I have a small dental practice in the United States and I also work for a university as a researcher. Ostensibly, I speak no Spanish, but for some unexplained reason have been sent to Peru to observe the national health system.

As much as I want to claim credit for coming up with this idea, it was Gaby’s. I developed my back-story, but she thought of the overall idea. As part of her job, the Ministry of Health requires that she participate in community programs to both educate children and check their teeth. She told me about it and said, “Hey, do you want to borrow some doctor’s clothes and come with me and Cesar to the schools? We’ll just tell them you’re a doctor visiting from the United States to observe the Peruvian health system.”

The results have been nothing short of outstanding. I’ve gone to several schools, spoken in front of classes, helped check the teeth of rooms of unruly public school second graders, pretended to not speak any Spanish in front of authority figures and Gaby’s co-workers, and left a general trail of complete distraction and chaos in my wake. I love it.

Day One

Monday was to be my first day of “work,” but actually ended up being somewhat of a bust in terms of working with kids. I woke up early and hopped a combi to Brena, where Gaby and Cesar’s office is located. After the 45-minute, frenetic, whiplash inducing, start-and-stop combi ride, I met them on the street where they gave me a bag containing my blue doctor’s shirt and white overcoat. I put on my clothes and we went to our first school.

Upon arrival, I was introduced to the school’s principal as “Dr. Shipley” and they explained what we were there to do: speak to classrooms, check teeth, and apply a fluoride treatment. None of this program seems to actually be scheduled, we just show up and tell people what we’re going to do. No one seems to mind.

I stood there saying nothing as I switched back and forth between smiling and feigning professional intrigue. When I was introduced to someone, I shook their hand and smiled broadly but remained mute, trying to look confused when they said things to me.

However, due to July being Peru’s Independence month, every school was on a weird schedule that day for the Brena parade — we were unable to see the children. Instead of heading back to the Health Center where their office is located, we went to a restaurant, had some sandwiches, and then spent the day watching the parade. It was fun. Despite the clouds, I got a sunburn.

Day Two: Dr. Shipley Speaks

If Monday was a bust, Tuesday was fantastic. Without Cesar, Gaby and I returned to the school to go to some classrooms to ask questions and talk about tooth-brushing. At random, we picked a classroom and walked in.

The volume level and amount of chatter immediately doubled with each room I walked in to. Upon seeing the white doctor, the kids immediately gasped, began pointing, and started yelling and screaming. Woe is the teacher attempting to control her classroom in my presence. Without prompting, however, the kids did manage to yell out in unison to the doctors, “BUENOS DIAS SENORITA DOCTORA Y SENOR DOCTOR.”

Gaby and I would then go to the front of the classroom. After telling them our names, she would begin talking to them about tooth-brushing and asking questions of the class. I would stand there while she spoke and try to maintain some air of knowledgeable doctor authority by not laughing or grinning stupidly. The first question she got after asking the students if they have any questions about their teeth was, “Why is Dr. Shipley so tall?”

The typical order of events after this would include the kids asking the odd dental care question along with more questions about me. “Does he speak Spanish?” “Does he speak English?” “What is his name?” “Where is he from?”

Once there were enough questions, I usually gave a speech in Spanish about myself, why I was here, and where I am from. The size of their grins and volume of their gasps got bigger and bigger with each part. There would be surprise when they first heard me speak and it went from there to giddy shock upon me telling them that I am from the United States.

We ended our Q&A sessions by taking a picture of me and the kids, which resulted in an instant mobbing.

It was all very awesome.

Day Three: Checkups Begin

I continued the routine on Wednesday: meet Gaby and Cesar, adorn doctor’s clothes, head to school. However, Gaby was actually checking teeth this day. My job was to call the names of the students for their checkup and write down how many extractions and fillings each needed. Gaby explained that appointments would later be scheduled for the children to come in and receive the noted treatment.

It was chaotic and really hilarious. The classroom has almost no order, but the kids were cute and energetic. The second graders would try to speak to me in either unintelligible English or unintelligible Spanish — usually running over to me in the middle of their lesson. Gaby left the classroom with three propositions for dates, numerous new crushes, and several requests to kiss her.

Video from our Checkup Room (“Whiskey!” is the Spanish version of saying “Cheese!” for a photo)

Peruvian Second Graders from Nathan Shipley on Vimeo.

Back at the Health Center: Land of Relaxation, Dick Jokes, and Free Tooth Extractions

Each day, when we were finished at the school, we would wander around, look through stores, eat more food, and eventually return to the Health Center to sit until it was time to check out. This sitting generally included talking, listening to the radio, playing cards, and Cesar babbling on with a constant stream of dirty jokes.

I asked if anyone cared that we weren’t seeing patients and they both seemed surprised that this would even be a concern. It’s fine – no problem. “This is our job.”

I’m quite impressed at the dental care prices. Pictured here is the official price sheet taped to the wall of the dental office. First consultation: 4 Soles ($1.35). Filling with resin: $2. Filling with metal: free. Etc.

Brief Reflections

I expected to being doing some odd and random things on my trip, but impersonating a doctor was not one of them. I’m not sure if I would have believed Doc Brown if he showed up in the Delorean before I left and told me this would be my future in Peru.

Additionally, if you think gringos get a lot of looks here just by walking down the street, watch what happens when they’re wearing doctor garb while they walk. Everybody looks.

I am delighted with all of this. Beyond being ridiculous and really funny, I am actually doing something productive when I’m not a complete distraction.

Link to Flickr set is here.

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