I'll be honest: I don't think my Spanish is improving as much as I thought it would down here. I can get around fine, sure, and if I ask someone to repeat something and they finally slow down enough, I can understand most of what's said to me. I'm in a bit of a self-concious, non-experimenting phase of Spanish: I don't feel fluent enough, so I avoid talking more than I need to. But I am continually absorbing, and paying attention to things (especially foods, for some reason). And I've come across some interesting points in the Spanish language, points especially interesting for a wordplay guy like me. So far they fall into two categories: words that strike me and seem especially apt in Spanish, which seem to convey more perfectly the precise meaning more fluidly than any English counterpart I've found, and Spanish words (more commonly, brand names) that approximate an English word using the different pronunciation of the Spanish language. It's that second category I want to focus on, and if you don't get what I mean, you should catch on quickly.
Fud - pronounced "food," Fud is a name brand of prepackaged meat (unless I've missed other "Fud" items carrying that moniker). While it certainly is truthful in what's inside the package, I kind of wish the brand could be more specific (Mit) as to what I'm buying or try to make me feel like it's a positive purchase (Gud Fud, or Teisti Fud), but no. It's just Fud. Eat it.
Chiz - now this is the specificity I'm talking about. Chiz is obviously a cheese product - it's pronounced exactly the same! Of course, this is an emphasis on the "product," as Chiz is a fake prepackaged cheese dip mix. So you get the idea as to the nature of the product more than Fud, but it's still quite misleading, as Chiz is not really cheese, but more of a cheese affiliate.
Dogui - an interesting use of Spanish pronunciation, as the "u" is necessary to harden the g followed by an "ee" sound (otherwise it would be pronounced "dohi") Dogui is a dog food brand. The name has little to do with the actual contents of the package, unlike Fud and Chiz.
Sponch - this is a true approximation, as the Spanish language does not have a hard "j" sound. The equivalent unvoiced "ch" is as close as it comes. Sponch is a type of prepackaged cookie, actually. It's got some sort of wafer topped with spongy (ah, there it is) marshamllow things. It looks about as fake and unhealthy as the Chiz.
Yipy - Clearly an attempt to spell "Yippee!" Another cookie brand, this one is pretty straightforward if not indicative of what to expect from the product apart from glee of some sort.
I'll keep watching out for these, and keep collecting them. I find them interesting, and hopefully you sort of did, too.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
...so I may write with more regularity
6:30 in West End
A warm spot still lingers on
the table as the waitress
brings la cuenta, banana pancake
conduction under my hand and
the sound of some mysterious
citrus fruit, juiced, sluicing
into the container below. A lone
other diner who'd wandered into
Rudy's during the presentation of
the pancakes slouches over his
fruit plate, another gringo beginning
his coffee as I finish mine.
The morning sun, not yet an hour
old, renders all outside the cafe a
bit overexposed, forcing eyes to
adjust upon switching subject
or when following the hummingbird
swerving and flashing amid the waxy
leaves - ad hoc walls for an open-air
restaurant. The dirt/sand sendero
of a main drag merges seamlessly with
the beach, the beach with the water,
water with sky, which holds the newborn
sun still rising over Roatán with its palms
and blooms and cactusy vines, the sun
which lights e'en before it's there,
which awoke me ere it was present and
impelled me from my hammock nest
to capture it and the entire rest of the
morning, to capture this island, to
capture Rudy's - I'm still alive - to
capture myself once again, and so
I have, perhaps.
A warm spot still lingers on
the table as the waitress
brings la cuenta, banana pancake
conduction under my hand and
the sound of some mysterious
citrus fruit, juiced, sluicing
into the container below. A lone
other diner who'd wandered into
Rudy's during the presentation of
the pancakes slouches over his
fruit plate, another gringo beginning
his coffee as I finish mine.
The morning sun, not yet an hour
old, renders all outside the cafe a
bit overexposed, forcing eyes to
adjust upon switching subject
or when following the hummingbird
swerving and flashing amid the waxy
leaves - ad hoc walls for an open-air
restaurant. The dirt/sand sendero
of a main drag merges seamlessly with
the beach, the beach with the water,
water with sky, which holds the newborn
sun still rising over Roatán with its palms
and blooms and cactusy vines, the sun
which lights e'en before it's there,
which awoke me ere it was present and
impelled me from my hammock nest
to capture it and the entire rest of the
morning, to capture this island, to
capture Rudy's - I'm still alive - to
capture myself once again, and so
I have, perhaps.
...when I have a lot to tell you over just a few days
Edit: Go ahead, read my blog first, and if you find you still have time to spend reading blogs, go to my friend Kristin's blog and read her great post from today and be sure to watch the youtube video she links to. Or read hers first and revel in the time you didn't spend reading my wordy prose.
I've been lazy. Very lazy. Not "Oh, you're working hard so you deserve a break sometimes" lazy, but "Why don't you get off the computer and take a shower you slob" lazy. Self-satisfaction is very low. Motivation for planning is nearly nonexistent. I can hardly blame it on the craziness of the flu closings backed immediately by the Zelaya crap, because I was headed in this direction 3 weeks ago. Honduras needs prayer, certainly, but I need prayer for more reasons than tensions in my city. I need to find motivation somehow, and I'm really not sure where to look.
So, updates on Z-Liar (pronounce it like a Brit and you should get it). To recap: he arrived early Monday and has been holed up in the Brazilian Embassy ever since. His supporters (both legitimate supporters and anarchy-inclined folks who just like breaking things, especially if they get paid for it) have occasionally demonstrated, though depending on who you ask, those demonstrations were either peaceful and then broken up by police which turned them violent, or started violent and then broken up by police. Rumor has it another demonstration is in the pipes for tomorrow.
Curfew was instated by the current government at 4pm last Monday, and stayed in effect until mid morning on Wednesday. (Curfew was in effect basically to discourage folks rallying and demonstrating, I think.) It was lifted then for 10 hours and reinstated Wednesday evening, to allow people a chance to go buy food and take care of things they may not have been able to take care of since there was very little warning when the curfew was first imposed.
A side note: School was obviously canceled Tuesday and Wednesday, given that no one was allowed outside of their houses those days (we didn't know the curfew would be lifted Wednesday, but still school would have had no hope of running that day).
Given that no one knew how long the curfew could last after it began again Wednesday evening, basically the entire city of Tegucigalpa was out and about to stock up on food. We teachers were among them. It's hard to keep a lot of extra food on hand, so even 40 hours left our supplies dwindling, and water was truly a problem. We resorted to boiling a good amount just so we had water to drink. The school sent a busito around for us North American teachers, and we went to La Colonia, a grocery store chain. By "went" I mean it was a drive that should take 15 minutes and tool us an hour and a half. We actually got off the bus in the middle of the street and walked to the store.
When we got inside, the place was packed. There was no hope of obtaining carts; most people had poached plastic flower pots from the non-grocery section to carry their purchases, although empty cardboard boxes or the large plastic flats that typically hold bread were also put into use and carried by mothers and fathers through the crowded aisles. I saw men carry carts over their heads and over the crowds just to move them to a different part of the store. Everyone stayed calm and were actually quite helpful in general; there were just so many people that the entire shopping trip was a disaster. Lines for the registers stretched through aisles, basically to the back of the store. We teachers got what we could and got into line quickly, but the lines hardly moved at all. Noon passed, then one o'clock, then two. Curfew would be back on by five, and we legitimately were concerned we would not be out of the store by then. I finally gave up on waiting in line - I had very little that was actually necessary, and I began feeling socially anxious and decided that getting out of that store was preferable to the slight stockpiling I'd accomplish through waiting in line four hours. So I dropped my stuff and three or four other teachers accompanied me out of the store. As we passed the registers, we could see families buying sometimes two cartloads full of food - undoubtedly more than many of them could afford to spend on food at one time, but given that the curfew could be imposed for days once again, these desperate times called for desperate measures. I frankly couldn't have cared less about my food supply at that point. I was more concerned about the actual amount of food in my belly at that instant.
Across the street was a restaurant called Big Baleadas (a baleada is a typical Honduran food consisting of beans spread on a tortilla, sour cream-type stuff, some kind of meat optional, and possibly some other topping depending on where you get it) and we went there just to hang out and more importantly satisfy our hunger. The baleadas were great, and certainly big. We stayed there until all of the other teachers were out of the store. All told, it was a pretty unsuccessful shopping trip, but an experience I don't regret having.
But the hassle was all for naught, since the curfew was lifted again during the day on Thursday, along with the urge to return to jobs (reports say that every day the curfew is in place it costs the Honduran economy $50 million), rendering the panicked stockpiling unnecessary. The curfew has been in place every evening since, and lifted every morning since, and we can assume this will be the case until further notice.
However, the craziness of the week is not yet exhausted. School was canceled for Thursday as well early Wednesday evening, but upon the announcement of the lifted curfew for Thursday, we received an e-mail from the school saying that there actually would be school tomorrow after all! (This was at 8:45 the night before, mind you.) Just a half day, though. Most of us were very upset by this news. Half days are not very practical for teaching.
But at 6:30am Thursday morning, the bus came around and we were all aboard. The teachers of IST were there, "ready" for a half day.
But only about half the students were. Big surprise. Late notice + political tension = half the student body. I had my students free write. And I wrote myself. It was not a productive day, but it was nice to just have some time with only some of my students. It was an interesting, solidarity-building day.
Friday was also a half day. Nearly all of my students were there that day. We still didn't do too much more - free reading and some looking ahead at hopefully gathering up what's left of this marking period, which only has three weeks left in it.
Saturday was a respite of sorts - no responsibilities, no curfew - so two other teachers and I went to the mall. For all we could see, life looked normal in the context of the mall. It turns out our trip was maybe ill-advised, as public places of any kind are liable to be venues for demonstrations, but everything turned out all right and we had a nice ride with one taxi driver in particular where we all bonded over listening to Michael Jackson on the radio. It was a rare moment of true happiness over the last month or so, when I could almost viscerally feel the deep human connection that spans culture and language - and it's all thanks to the King of Pop!
And today I've been lazy. We have another half day tomorrow, and we're on a day-to-day basis regarding schedule. It really stinks. I knew teaching in Honduras would be a very different experience, but none of us knew how different, or what sort of factors would make it so different.
I've been lazy. Very lazy. Not "Oh, you're working hard so you deserve a break sometimes" lazy, but "Why don't you get off the computer and take a shower you slob" lazy. Self-satisfaction is very low. Motivation for planning is nearly nonexistent. I can hardly blame it on the craziness of the flu closings backed immediately by the Zelaya crap, because I was headed in this direction 3 weeks ago. Honduras needs prayer, certainly, but I need prayer for more reasons than tensions in my city. I need to find motivation somehow, and I'm really not sure where to look.
So, updates on Z-Liar (pronounce it like a Brit and you should get it). To recap: he arrived early Monday and has been holed up in the Brazilian Embassy ever since. His supporters (both legitimate supporters and anarchy-inclined folks who just like breaking things, especially if they get paid for it) have occasionally demonstrated, though depending on who you ask, those demonstrations were either peaceful and then broken up by police which turned them violent, or started violent and then broken up by police. Rumor has it another demonstration is in the pipes for tomorrow.
Curfew was instated by the current government at 4pm last Monday, and stayed in effect until mid morning on Wednesday. (Curfew was in effect basically to discourage folks rallying and demonstrating, I think.) It was lifted then for 10 hours and reinstated Wednesday evening, to allow people a chance to go buy food and take care of things they may not have been able to take care of since there was very little warning when the curfew was first imposed.
A side note: School was obviously canceled Tuesday and Wednesday, given that no one was allowed outside of their houses those days (we didn't know the curfew would be lifted Wednesday, but still school would have had no hope of running that day).
Given that no one knew how long the curfew could last after it began again Wednesday evening, basically the entire city of Tegucigalpa was out and about to stock up on food. We teachers were among them. It's hard to keep a lot of extra food on hand, so even 40 hours left our supplies dwindling, and water was truly a problem. We resorted to boiling a good amount just so we had water to drink. The school sent a busito around for us North American teachers, and we went to La Colonia, a grocery store chain. By "went" I mean it was a drive that should take 15 minutes and tool us an hour and a half. We actually got off the bus in the middle of the street and walked to the store.
When we got inside, the place was packed. There was no hope of obtaining carts; most people had poached plastic flower pots from the non-grocery section to carry their purchases, although empty cardboard boxes or the large plastic flats that typically hold bread were also put into use and carried by mothers and fathers through the crowded aisles. I saw men carry carts over their heads and over the crowds just to move them to a different part of the store. Everyone stayed calm and were actually quite helpful in general; there were just so many people that the entire shopping trip was a disaster. Lines for the registers stretched through aisles, basically to the back of the store. We teachers got what we could and got into line quickly, but the lines hardly moved at all. Noon passed, then one o'clock, then two. Curfew would be back on by five, and we legitimately were concerned we would not be out of the store by then. I finally gave up on waiting in line - I had very little that was actually necessary, and I began feeling socially anxious and decided that getting out of that store was preferable to the slight stockpiling I'd accomplish through waiting in line four hours. So I dropped my stuff and three or four other teachers accompanied me out of the store. As we passed the registers, we could see families buying sometimes two cartloads full of food - undoubtedly more than many of them could afford to spend on food at one time, but given that the curfew could be imposed for days once again, these desperate times called for desperate measures. I frankly couldn't have cared less about my food supply at that point. I was more concerned about the actual amount of food in my belly at that instant.
Across the street was a restaurant called Big Baleadas (a baleada is a typical Honduran food consisting of beans spread on a tortilla, sour cream-type stuff, some kind of meat optional, and possibly some other topping depending on where you get it) and we went there just to hang out and more importantly satisfy our hunger. The baleadas were great, and certainly big. We stayed there until all of the other teachers were out of the store. All told, it was a pretty unsuccessful shopping trip, but an experience I don't regret having.
But the hassle was all for naught, since the curfew was lifted again during the day on Thursday, along with the urge to return to jobs (reports say that every day the curfew is in place it costs the Honduran economy $50 million), rendering the panicked stockpiling unnecessary. The curfew has been in place every evening since, and lifted every morning since, and we can assume this will be the case until further notice.
However, the craziness of the week is not yet exhausted. School was canceled for Thursday as well early Wednesday evening, but upon the announcement of the lifted curfew for Thursday, we received an e-mail from the school saying that there actually would be school tomorrow after all! (This was at 8:45 the night before, mind you.) Just a half day, though. Most of us were very upset by this news. Half days are not very practical for teaching.
But at 6:30am Thursday morning, the bus came around and we were all aboard. The teachers of IST were there, "ready" for a half day.
But only about half the students were. Big surprise. Late notice + political tension = half the student body. I had my students free write. And I wrote myself. It was not a productive day, but it was nice to just have some time with only some of my students. It was an interesting, solidarity-building day.
Friday was also a half day. Nearly all of my students were there that day. We still didn't do too much more - free reading and some looking ahead at hopefully gathering up what's left of this marking period, which only has three weeks left in it.
Saturday was a respite of sorts - no responsibilities, no curfew - so two other teachers and I went to the mall. For all we could see, life looked normal in the context of the mall. It turns out our trip was maybe ill-advised, as public places of any kind are liable to be venues for demonstrations, but everything turned out all right and we had a nice ride with one taxi driver in particular where we all bonded over listening to Michael Jackson on the radio. It was a rare moment of true happiness over the last month or so, when I could almost viscerally feel the deep human connection that spans culture and language - and it's all thanks to the King of Pop!
And today I've been lazy. We have another half day tomorrow, and we're on a day-to-day basis regarding schedule. It really stinks. I knew teaching in Honduras would be a very different experience, but none of us knew how different, or what sort of factors would make it so different.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
...to mark a pretty significant anniversary
There is so much to blog about right now. Things are ridiculous down here. I'm not even referring to things like possibility of violence or tension about what's going to happen with Mel. Curfew stuff and lifting of curfew stuff is primarily what's lending to the ridiculousity of the week, and today in particular. I will share it. I have to. But not tonight any more.
What I do want to note is that back home, it is after midnight. With that in mind, I can think of it as Sept. 24, which marks the 10-year anniversary of my mom, Gertrude Eding, finally losing her battle with colon cancer. It's been a decade. And that impels me to give this thought. I simply hope I can allot the time and energy I need to consider it amid all the confusion of junk down here. And there is plenty of junk down here. I just felt the need to mark this while I could. I'm quite confident I will have more to say on this as well.
I'm just waiting for the weekend, and two of our three school days so far this week were canceled. Life is strange.
What I do want to note is that back home, it is after midnight. With that in mind, I can think of it as Sept. 24, which marks the 10-year anniversary of my mom, Gertrude Eding, finally losing her battle with colon cancer. It's been a decade. And that impels me to give this thought. I simply hope I can allot the time and energy I need to consider it amid all the confusion of junk down here. And there is plenty of junk down here. I just felt the need to mark this while I could. I'm quite confident I will have more to say on this as well.
I'm just waiting for the weekend, and two of our three school days so far this week were canceled. Life is strange.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
...but the inside of my house seems like no country in particular
We are in hour 27 of the mandated curfew. It's been extended through 6am tomorrow morning, and will likely be extended even further. School has been canceled for a second day tomorrow, so if somehow we do have school on Thursday, it would be our second day of school since Sept. 9. And school will not be fun when we do get back. As I've said, there are students whose parents are at high levels in Mel Zelaya's camp as well as the new "regime" as most US news media outlets are unfortunately and appallingly referring to Micheletti's administration.
I cannot understand why so many other countries are falling into support of Mel. I certainly believe no one wants to see Honduras fall into terror and violence, and it's true that many of the negative outcomes for Mel might easily lead to that (if Mel's arrested, as he most certainly will be as soon as he sets foot outside the Brazilian embassy, his supporters (and people who don't care either way but just want to set things on fire and cause commotion) are certain to go nuts. I've heard about possible plans to try and assassinate Mel, and that'd sure to create much huger problems and I pray it never comes to that), but the simple fact is that MEL IS IN THE WRONG. What he was trying to do was totally unconstitutional, and most anybody with their head screwed on straight down here knows that. A friend of mine pointed me to this article from the Wall Street Journal, and it was such a relief to see that not all of the American newspeople have their heads (pardon my French two days in a row) up their asses. I am extraordinarily disappointed in the way the Obama administration is handling this situation, and I pray he/they may see the light about what's going on down here soon. As the WSJ author said, the support from the US is huge for Zelaya - it might be making him feel invincible. If he feels invincible, one side or the other is going to do something rash. And I frankly would not like to see that outcome.
In other happier news, I am officially an uncle for the third time! My brother Jeff and his wife Lynnette welcomed Nathan Jeffery Eding into the world just a couple hours after I started this house arrest, and this evening I was able to video chat with the proud parents, the proud grandparents (i.e. my folks...as well as Lynnette's parents) and my other sister Lara and her husband Steve, all in the hospital on wireless! I praise the Lord for technology like this that lets me see him and them, and I can't wait to see all those folks in person come December! (Even earlier for Dad and Carol, Lord willing...they're planning on coming during election time, which might prove problematic, but we will see and pray and hope it will all work out.
Read that article. It's awesome. A breath of fresh air. I thought my whole country had gone stupid.
Edit: Here's a blog post from a blogger for the Huffington Post who's stationed in Tegus. He saw a bunch of the action with the demonstrations and police action firsthand. Quite intense.
I cannot understand why so many other countries are falling into support of Mel. I certainly believe no one wants to see Honduras fall into terror and violence, and it's true that many of the negative outcomes for Mel might easily lead to that (if Mel's arrested, as he most certainly will be as soon as he sets foot outside the Brazilian embassy, his supporters (and people who don't care either way but just want to set things on fire and cause commotion) are certain to go nuts. I've heard about possible plans to try and assassinate Mel, and that'd sure to create much huger problems and I pray it never comes to that), but the simple fact is that MEL IS IN THE WRONG. What he was trying to do was totally unconstitutional, and most anybody with their head screwed on straight down here knows that. A friend of mine pointed me to this article from the Wall Street Journal, and it was such a relief to see that not all of the American newspeople have their heads (pardon my French two days in a row) up their asses. I am extraordinarily disappointed in the way the Obama administration is handling this situation, and I pray he/they may see the light about what's going on down here soon. As the WSJ author said, the support from the US is huge for Zelaya - it might be making him feel invincible. If he feels invincible, one side or the other is going to do something rash. And I frankly would not like to see that outcome.
In other happier news, I am officially an uncle for the third time! My brother Jeff and his wife Lynnette welcomed Nathan Jeffery Eding into the world just a couple hours after I started this house arrest, and this evening I was able to video chat with the proud parents, the proud grandparents (i.e. my folks...as well as Lynnette's parents) and my other sister Lara and her husband Steve, all in the hospital on wireless! I praise the Lord for technology like this that lets me see him and them, and I can't wait to see all those folks in person come December! (Even earlier for Dad and Carol, Lord willing...they're planning on coming during election time, which might prove problematic, but we will see and pray and hope it will all work out.
Read that article. It's awesome. A breath of fresh air. I thought my whole country had gone stupid.
Edit: Here's a blog post from a blogger for the Huffington Post who's stationed in Tegus. He saw a bunch of the action with the demonstrations and police action firsthand. Quite intense.
Monday, September 21, 2009
...guessing who's back, back again
Mel is back, tell a friend.
So a school without functioning Internet is a secluded place to be. During one of my later hours, students suddenly became very antsy. Apparently Mel Zelaya's back in the country. You know, the ousted president who made so many of you concerned for the well-being of us teachers? According to news sources, he's chillin' in the Brazilian embassy here in Tegus. And somehow (illegal cell phone in class?) the rumor spread like wildfire in my class. After school, my fellow teachers told of anywhere up to six of their students in their class being taken out of school by parents due to this news.
Okay, sure, I think. Some parents are protective, and I do know that some kids are children of higher-ups in governments old and new, so don't take any risks. But this has little to do with me. I have a test to give tomorrow.
Then I get home. I'm biding time until my friends walk past, because we're planning on hitting up the grocery store. My roommates, who would be taking the late bus home an hour and a half later, end up getting dropped off by another teacher in his car 15 minutes after I arrive. Hmm, that's strange. I guess they were done prepping and the other teacher was ready to head out as well.
Dan and Al walk in. Apparently there's a 4pm curfew (it's 3:50 at this point). And it goes until 7am (school starts at 7:15). So school won't begin until 9:15 tomorrow if it happens at all.
Pardon my french, but shit just got real.
So much for the grocery trip.
10 minutes after Dan and Al arrive, the phone rings. It's for me. It's another teacher from our neighborhood, Sage. She just wanted to tell me that our aforementioned friends won't be coming around to grocery shop. "Oh, so they found out about the curfew, too? I just found out when Dan and Al got home earl-"
"Oh, there's a curfew? No, the girls were just robbed at gunpoint."
........
So they had been on their way. They were right in the middle of our neighborhood, in broad daylight, for Pete's sake. As far as I know, all the mugger got was a set of keys, a cell phone, and 20 Lempiras (see previous post for conversion information!) And they got away unscathed, which is all you ever hope for anyway. So they went to Sage's house, which was closest, and they're decompressing there.
Since then, it's been a bit of a frantic relay of phone calls and instant messages to make sure everyone is accounted for and most of all, safe. Of special concern regarding the "safe" part are the girls' two other roommates, who were dropped off at their house after the first two girls left, now with some malicious guy walking around the neighborhood with keys to their house (of course, it can be fairly common knowledge which houses are the "gringo houses). Cell phone service was dropped at some point in all of this, adding to the confusion and lack of communication (our land line won't make calls out, either - hooray for late phone bills!). Everyone is safe and accounted for after a tense hour, the other girls have been picked up and will spend time at other houses, and school is still either up for a late start or cancellation.
I've heard a few distant car horn sounds that sound as if they're part of some demonstration. Even the car alarms aren't going off with their stupidly regular frequency. It's rather suddenly mostly quiet. Only dogs barking from time to time around the neighborhood and the rap-rap-rap-rapping sound of the geckos accompanies the occasional sound of a passing car.
The girls are safe. We have pretty (and cheap) flowers on our table. The curtains are drawn. It's still quite warm, with a clear sky as the sun approaches setting.
So a school without functioning Internet is a secluded place to be. During one of my later hours, students suddenly became very antsy. Apparently Mel Zelaya's back in the country. You know, the ousted president who made so many of you concerned for the well-being of us teachers? According to news sources, he's chillin' in the Brazilian embassy here in Tegus. And somehow (illegal cell phone in class?) the rumor spread like wildfire in my class. After school, my fellow teachers told of anywhere up to six of their students in their class being taken out of school by parents due to this news.
Okay, sure, I think. Some parents are protective, and I do know that some kids are children of higher-ups in governments old and new, so don't take any risks. But this has little to do with me. I have a test to give tomorrow.
Then I get home. I'm biding time until my friends walk past, because we're planning on hitting up the grocery store. My roommates, who would be taking the late bus home an hour and a half later, end up getting dropped off by another teacher in his car 15 minutes after I arrive. Hmm, that's strange. I guess they were done prepping and the other teacher was ready to head out as well.
Dan and Al walk in. Apparently there's a 4pm curfew (it's 3:50 at this point). And it goes until 7am (school starts at 7:15). So school won't begin until 9:15 tomorrow if it happens at all.
Pardon my french, but shit just got real.
So much for the grocery trip.
10 minutes after Dan and Al arrive, the phone rings. It's for me. It's another teacher from our neighborhood, Sage. She just wanted to tell me that our aforementioned friends won't be coming around to grocery shop. "Oh, so they found out about the curfew, too? I just found out when Dan and Al got home earl-"
"Oh, there's a curfew? No, the girls were just robbed at gunpoint."
........
So they had been on their way. They were right in the middle of our neighborhood, in broad daylight, for Pete's sake. As far as I know, all the mugger got was a set of keys, a cell phone, and 20 Lempiras (see previous post for conversion information!) And they got away unscathed, which is all you ever hope for anyway. So they went to Sage's house, which was closest, and they're decompressing there.
Since then, it's been a bit of a frantic relay of phone calls and instant messages to make sure everyone is accounted for and most of all, safe. Of special concern regarding the "safe" part are the girls' two other roommates, who were dropped off at their house after the first two girls left, now with some malicious guy walking around the neighborhood with keys to their house (of course, it can be fairly common knowledge which houses are the "gringo houses). Cell phone service was dropped at some point in all of this, adding to the confusion and lack of communication (our land line won't make calls out, either - hooray for late phone bills!). Everyone is safe and accounted for after a tense hour, the other girls have been picked up and will spend time at other houses, and school is still either up for a late start or cancellation.
I've heard a few distant car horn sounds that sound as if they're part of some demonstration. Even the car alarms aren't going off with their stupidly regular frequency. It's rather suddenly mostly quiet. Only dogs barking from time to time around the neighborhood and the rap-rap-rap-rapping sound of the geckos accompanies the occasional sound of a passing car.
The girls are safe. We have pretty (and cheap) flowers on our table. The curtains are drawn. It's still quite warm, with a clear sky as the sun approaches setting.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
...because my wallet is overflowing with cash
Dear reader, do not be confused by my title. I am not implying that by moving to Honduras I am raking in the big bucks (I make around 500 dollars a month) nor that as an American in a third-world country I am comparatively wealthy. I truly don't think that's so, if only because I am a rather recent college graduate who's never earned a salary. I just want to paint a picture of the way money works down here.
The current Lempiras:Dollars ratio is around 18:1, but I invariably round it to 20:1, making one lempira around 5 cents. Lempiras are further divided into centavos (100 per lempira, or "limp" as we lovingly refer to them).
As far as I know, there are 4 denominations of coins: 5, 10, 20, and 50 centavos (maybe there are 1 c. coins, but given that even 5 c. coins are worth 1/4 penny, I'm guessing the need for 1/20 penny coins isn't too high). I know the sizes of US coins aren't totally sensical (dimes are the smallest, where every other size increases with value - dollar coins have gone all over the place, but they've been a joke anyway so they don't count), but at least the colors follow some order: lowly pennies are copper and everything higher is more valuable...silver colored metal! (It makes more sense when you take the old materials into account.) But check this:
5c. coin: around the size of a nickel, golden in color
10c. coin: larger than a quarter, also golden (I'm now realizing that the colors follow a coherent pattern, unlike what I set up in the last paragraph)
20c. coin (worth a penny): size of a dime, silver in color
50c. coin: around the size of a quarter (between the 5c. and 10c. coin), also silver
The sizes are all over the place! And while the smaller denominations are one color and the higher ones are another, you'd maybe associate the golden color with being more valuable than the silver color. But maybe not. I haven't used a single coin yet as it is anyway; I've only gotten them in change. Sometimes they won't even bother with them in giving you change and will round up to the nearest Lempira if they'd owe you 60 c. or something. I say good on 'em. (I also think the U.S. should abolish the penny, but whatever.)
What I really wanted to talk about was the bills. I carry so many bills in my wallet I'm like George Costanza even without any receipts even adding to the wallet's girth. At least I carry my money in my pockets, unlike my female compatriots using their bras as purses. (Though maybe extra bills isn't all that unwelcome there then? I'm sorry, I'll stop.)
Here's why: bills come in denominations of L.500 ($25), L.100 ($5), L.50($2.50), L.20 ($1.00), L.10 ($0.50), L.5 ($0.25), L.2 ($0.10), and L.1 ($0.05). That means apart from the equivalent of U.S. pennies, I'm carrying all of my change around in paper form in my wallet! That adds up quickly. And given that you can't even count on an establishment having enough change to break your L.500 bill (that's right, many places don't have $25 in change!), you don't want to be carrying those around much to save room. As I write this, I have in physical money four 100 notes, three 20's, one 5, four 2's, and ten 1's. That's 22 notes, totaling the equivalent of 32 U.S. dollars, which would be 4 bills in the states. I admit, I could have made some better use of small bills in getting change in a transaction or two, but this happens. Regularly. I've had to rethink my wallet organization, and I've decided a bifold may be a worthy investment in lieu of my current trifold (it stands to lose its shape already due to keeping fewer cards in it)...and you all care about these minor developments in my money storage.
Anyway, I thought I'd get something a bit different in here for you. Be sure to check my last post for links to pictures!
The current Lempiras:Dollars ratio is around 18:1, but I invariably round it to 20:1, making one lempira around 5 cents. Lempiras are further divided into centavos (100 per lempira, or "limp" as we lovingly refer to them).
As far as I know, there are 4 denominations of coins: 5, 10, 20, and 50 centavos (maybe there are 1 c. coins, but given that even 5 c. coins are worth 1/4 penny, I'm guessing the need for 1/20 penny coins isn't too high). I know the sizes of US coins aren't totally sensical (dimes are the smallest, where every other size increases with value - dollar coins have gone all over the place, but they've been a joke anyway so they don't count), but at least the colors follow some order: lowly pennies are copper and everything higher is more valuable...silver colored metal! (It makes more sense when you take the old materials into account.) But check this:
5c. coin: around the size of a nickel, golden in color
10c. coin: larger than a quarter, also golden (I'm now realizing that the colors follow a coherent pattern, unlike what I set up in the last paragraph)
20c. coin (worth a penny): size of a dime, silver in color
50c. coin: around the size of a quarter (between the 5c. and 10c. coin), also silver
The sizes are all over the place! And while the smaller denominations are one color and the higher ones are another, you'd maybe associate the golden color with being more valuable than the silver color. But maybe not. I haven't used a single coin yet as it is anyway; I've only gotten them in change. Sometimes they won't even bother with them in giving you change and will round up to the nearest Lempira if they'd owe you 60 c. or something. I say good on 'em. (I also think the U.S. should abolish the penny, but whatever.)
What I really wanted to talk about was the bills. I carry so many bills in my wallet I'm like George Costanza even without any receipts even adding to the wallet's girth. At least I carry my money in my pockets, unlike my female compatriots using their bras as purses. (Though maybe extra bills isn't all that unwelcome there then? I'm sorry, I'll stop.)
Here's why: bills come in denominations of L.500 ($25), L.100 ($5), L.50($2.50), L.20 ($1.00), L.10 ($0.50), L.5 ($0.25), L.2 ($0.10), and L.1 ($0.05). That means apart from the equivalent of U.S. pennies, I'm carrying all of my change around in paper form in my wallet! That adds up quickly. And given that you can't even count on an establishment having enough change to break your L.500 bill (that's right, many places don't have $25 in change!), you don't want to be carrying those around much to save room. As I write this, I have in physical money four 100 notes, three 20's, one 5, four 2's, and ten 1's. That's 22 notes, totaling the equivalent of 32 U.S. dollars, which would be 4 bills in the states. I admit, I could have made some better use of small bills in getting change in a transaction or two, but this happens. Regularly. I've had to rethink my wallet organization, and I've decided a bifold may be a worthy investment in lieu of my current trifold (it stands to lose its shape already due to keeping fewer cards in it)...and you all care about these minor developments in my money storage.
Anyway, I thought I'd get something a bit different in here for you. Be sure to check my last post for links to pictures!
...and I've had trouble, but I'll finally let you see pictures
All right, I figured a solution to my inability to put pictures up here. My facebook pictures are available for public viewing, so I can post the links to those albums. People on facebook have probably already seen these, but nonfacebookers can finally see some of the things I have.
Honduras in general:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2080396&id=15300281&l=30e87d9531
My very recent trip to Roatán (the captions sort of tell a story, pay attention!)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2082334&id=15300281&l=1479195a72
Please let me know if these work or not; I'm just glad to have some kind of solution!
Honduras in general:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2080396&id=15300281&l=30e87d9531
My very recent trip to Roatán (the captions sort of tell a story, pay attention!)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2082334&id=15300281&l=1479195a72
Please let me know if these work or not; I'm just glad to have some kind of solution!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
...but this didn't feel like Honduras
I went to the island of Róatan this long weekend, even longer thanks to the flu, and I didn't have Internet. That didn't keep me from blogging, though! I wrote a ridiculously lenghty post on my second day there, and here it is now. Consider it posted 10:45 am, Sept. 13, 2009 (Honduras time - 12:45 pm EDT).
Well, let me just say that days off from school have helped me to more truly appreciate the new place in which I am living. The cessation of constant stress has been a Godsend, and I am once again thinking more positively about the country of Honduras. Now that I am on the Caribbean island of Róatan, it’s clear this country has a lot to offer.
Today began around 5:20am, when I was shaken awake by my roommate, Dan. I had intended to wake up around 4:00, allowing me ample time to shower, make coffee, eat some cereal, and most importantly, pack for our 4 night stay in one of the touristiest yet gorgeousest locales of all Honduras. I was to be ready for the bus around 5, as that’s when it began its rounds to all the teacher houses. It got to my house around 5:15, honked a few times, sent someone to ring the doorbell and to call my cell phone in hopes that I’d be right out. Little had I known that though I set my alarm for 4am, I neglected to turn it ON. My backup alarm in my iPod, in a similarly delightful situation, was set to 4PM. So though I was not roused, Dan was and was capable of the heretofore impossible. The bus had gone to another house and was planning on making a return, during the interval of which I threw anything I thought I could possibly need for a 4 night stay on the Caribbean. Then I got on the bus, then promptly back off because I had forgotten underwear and a bathing suit. Then back on and we began our 8 hour (including stops) busito ride to La Ceiba:
Note: Straight shot? Hardly. Look at the map: we went from Tegucigalpa, through Comayagua, SanPedro Sula, Tela, and finally arrived in La Ceiba. You can see the long island of Róatan just above the name "La Ceiba," as well.
We arrived at the ferry dock well in advance of our 4pm departure time and received a complimentary Dramamine with each ticket. Nice. We spent a good two hours in the waiting area, serenaded by the outrageous blood and gore of the movie Doom starring The Rock on the television in the front of the room.
When we finally boarded the ferry, several of our number went to the top deck in the back of the boat in hopes that the open air would prevent seasickness despite the overbearing heat of the sun, while others (myself included) stayed in the air-conditioned main level. I sat with one of the other teachers, Michelle, and we ended up talking for the entire 2-hour ferry ride. It was a bit of a choppy ride, but nothing terribly nausea-inducing (there were a few pukers, but aren’t there always?) At one point, Michelle and I headed to the top deck to see how the folks up there were faring, stopping for a good 10 minutes along the railing on the side, basking in the whipping wind, salt spray from the front of the boat, and of course the sun working its way toward the Caribbean horizon.
As we stood at the edge of the ferry, we watched the 40-mile island of Róatan loom closer through the ever-present haze. The sun tucked itself behind the serrated surface of the island just before the ferry came in to dock at the town of Coxen Hole, so twilight was rapidly becoming night as our 16-teacher group boarded the bus/taxi that took us through the twisting, wooded highway leading to our final destination of West End. West End was hosting a bit of a carnival this particular night, so there was a bit of a delay in reaching Posada Orquideas, our hotel.
The delay was worth it, let me tell you. It is a fantastic hotel, with large patios, each equipped with a hammock and a view through the trees of the Caribbean. A dock sticks into the channel behind the hotel, with a landing perfect for a group of twentysomethings to lay down on at night and gaze at the brightest stars I’ve had the privilege of seeing in about 9 years, which we did within 25 minutes of arriving.
A few of our number were rather peckish, it being 8 or so at night, so after a shower and change of clothes, we split into two groups and walked the 10 minutes into the main drag of West End (“main drag,” in this instance, describes a 1.5 lane-wide sand road along the coast with buildings on one side and buildings built on docks on the other side). The Carnival was not much other than loud, so we continued on to see what the numerous restaurants had to offer and my group finally settled on a bar/grill built over the water. ‘Twas a very nice place. Shortly after we got our drinks, the entire town lost power (a theme common to the entire country, not just Tegus, apparently). It was a very brain-screwy experience to be essentially outside and to suddenly be thrown into darkness I associate only with underground places like basements and Mammoth Cave. Not phased, the restaurateurs quickly procured battery powered fluorescent lights and continued cooking, and our burgers, chicken sandwiches, and calamari (not mine) arrived as quickly as could be expected nonetheless. As I ate my Hickery [sic] burger in the weak fluorescent light of the blackout-coping restaurant, surrounded by some great people most of whom I have not known more than 4 weeks, I felt oddly satisfied. The pineapple-and-onion combination of toppings tasted unnaturally good, and the Salva Vida beer (my first in a good long while) was simply refreshing. For some reason, despite 13 hours of travel and 3 more of wandering around and socializing (a good chunk of which was in near darkness), I couldn’t have felt more alert and aware, soaking in the experience. That said, it didn’t take long at all to drift to sleep once we returned to Orquideas and I got into bed.
The alertness and awareness returned in force this morning as soon as the 5:50 sunshine made its way onto my face through the screened window. I was immediately able to arise and make my way, camera in hand, out to the dock from the night before, now silhouetted by the newly-risen sun above the channel’s other bank. I snapped a couple dozen photos of the dock, the dawn, and the assorted foliage surrounding the hotel, basking in the already-warm-approaching-hot-6-AM-very-early morning and the simple evidences of God making himself known in numerous ways.
My day beginning without me even having to will it whatsoever, I began the same stroll from the night before and continued snapping pictures on the way to the not-yet-awake town of West End. Closed-up shops, bars, and restaurants, now in daylight, again lined the route. On the south end of town, the lone open establishment, Rudy’s, was my breakfast venue. On the recommendation of my guidebook (thanks Nate and Emily), I had sought this place out for its coffee and banana pancakes, both of which made up my desayuno. Most of my time there, I was the lone patron, until another single gringo came in for coffee and a fruit plate. I was truly relishing the isolation I’ve had a hard time feeling thus far in Honduras, but once breakfast was over and paid for, I made my way back to the hotel where others had begun rousing themselves, and here I have spent the rest of the morning thus far.
At this particular moment in time, my thoughts when I hear “Caribbean paradise” may differ from the average thoughts of someone else hearing that phrase, even though we may envision the same sort of place. Nonetheless, “Caribbean paradise” is definitely what I am currently experiencing, whatever that exactly means. I suppose it’s what I’ve just described in 2 single-spaced pages. And I have 3 more days of this to go.Thursday, September 10, 2009
...with a bit of free time
Regarding my last post: Swine Flu, H1N1, gripe porcina has most definitely hit with a vengeance. So much so that International School has closed for today...and tomorrow...(we weren't going to have school on Monday or Tuesday because of Independence Day)...and next week Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday! Students may have been a little nutso yesterday afternoon - my friend Leslie had an especially difficult time with her 9th grade mental patients - I could hear their yelling, cheering, and clapping in unison from my room. I whipped my (slightly) more mature 11th graders into shape and tried not to take craziness for an answer. Fortunately, I had my best class last, and they kinda love me from what I can tell (superstars, let me tell you), so my job was made easier.
Now we have time off, but work doesn't stop. My students are still responsible to keep up with their reading, and I have to post updates to our (rather unreliable thus far) online class center (Blackboard, for those acquainted with it). And now I get a chance to atone for my delinquency thus far in journal reading (I took ~70 journals home with me yesterday - no getting back into school for us teachers, even).
But amid the continued work, I'll be heading with a group of teachers to the island of Róatan, probably the most touristy, luxury place Honduras has to offer. 4 nights of Caribbean sweetness. I'm planning on renting a bicycle for a day or two and just relishing independence, while still getting some relaxation and advance reading on The Scarlet Letter, my next book to teach, which I have not yet read. I also look forward to photo ops.
I've a couple silly posts brewing; interesting list-type things I foresee being revised and added to, which I'll probably get going in the next day or so. Stay tuned.
Now we have time off, but work doesn't stop. My students are still responsible to keep up with their reading, and I have to post updates to our (rather unreliable thus far) online class center (Blackboard, for those acquainted with it). And now I get a chance to atone for my delinquency thus far in journal reading (I took ~70 journals home with me yesterday - no getting back into school for us teachers, even).
But amid the continued work, I'll be heading with a group of teachers to the island of Róatan, probably the most touristy, luxury place Honduras has to offer. 4 nights of Caribbean sweetness. I'm planning on renting a bicycle for a day or two and just relishing independence, while still getting some relaxation and advance reading on The Scarlet Letter, my next book to teach, which I have not yet read. I also look forward to photo ops.
I've a couple silly posts brewing; interesting list-type things I foresee being revised and added to, which I'll probably get going in the next day or so. Stay tuned.
Monday, September 7, 2009
...when each class period begins with a ceremonial hand-washing
Swine Flu has hit Tegus again! Panic! Run for your lives! Drink as much hand sanitizer (70% alcohol at least, please) as you can lay your hands on! It will seep out of your pores and cleanse you from the inside! Stop breathing - that's when it gets inside of you! And by all means, cough and look pathetic in class so that your teachers have no choice but to send you to the doctor so he can check you out and make sure it isn't actually swine flu! Panic! Run! Don't breathe! Don't even move! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
It's just a matter of time before I start feeling lousy. Both of my roommates have come down with what seems to be a six-day cold, and plenty of other teachers have been feeling under the weather as well, at least one of which needed to call in a sub. If what I've heard is correct, a good third of the 9th grade was gone today. It's a minefield of germy-wermies, apparently, and yet I'm just as skeptical of swine flu as ever. Maybe I have no reason to fear, because I drink a lot of coffee. That's kind of like getting lots and lots of sleep, right??
I had forgotten it's Labor Day. Nonexistent down here. I hope everyone is having/had good days off.
It's just a matter of time before I start feeling lousy. Both of my roommates have come down with what seems to be a six-day cold, and plenty of other teachers have been feeling under the weather as well, at least one of which needed to call in a sub. If what I've heard is correct, a good third of the 9th grade was gone today. It's a minefield of germy-wermies, apparently, and yet I'm just as skeptical of swine flu as ever. Maybe I have no reason to fear, because I drink a lot of coffee. That's kind of like getting lots and lots of sleep, right??
I had forgotten it's Labor Day. Nonexistent down here. I hope everyone is having/had good days off.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
...when the power goes out from 8:10 to 4:30
I never realized the hidden powers of my blog name/post title framing technique! I had planned on just using it in a sense of "I may be in Honduras but I don't have to like it" or "...but things aren't so bad." Then this week one of my coworkers saw my page on my browser and took note of the title and inquired if my posts were all of a "You might be in Honduras when..." a la Jeff Foxworthy. So I have another tool in my box for keeping post titles fresh. Thanks, Kathy.
And yes, the power did go out for the better part of the day. Our entire little area of town. They were doing some sort of electrical work and turned the power off for the section of the city all of us teachers live in. So there was a mass exodus of us teachers to malls, coffee shops, and the like to make up for our ability to cook, websurf, or most importantly make coffee.
And Car Talk had just come on as I was streaming NPR when the power went out. Boo.
But I had some awesome fajitas and dare I say even better conversation at TGIFriday's, went to about the only teacher-friendly store in Honduras and got some posterboard (which apparently I can get about anywhere but haven't seen).
I have yet to do any planning or grading for the weekend. And tonight is the much anticipated Honduras v. Trinidad & Tobago futbol game (That's right, Honduras is so good they're taking on TWO opposing teams -- huh? ... Not two? ... ... Oh.)
Although, next week is Mexico (in Mexico) and Oct. 10 will be the USA team here in Tegus. I think we teachers may try to go to that.
At any rate, the entire Honduran population is dressed in getup like these guys, whoever they are.
I hope my dear readers are doing well (some of you keep me abreast of your goings-on in life through other means), and I hope my blog has been useful and helpful for you in keeping tabs on me. I apologize for the lack of pictures, but given the 12 megapixels of my camera, each of my photos is around 5 MB and takes forever to upload. And then they turn out small like that flower picture. I'm not sure what gives. If anyone has tips, please let me know. I can try another one:
I give up. I waited 10 minutes for it to load. You can check facebook; facebook is there for me where blogger is not.
And yes, the power did go out for the better part of the day. Our entire little area of town. They were doing some sort of electrical work and turned the power off for the section of the city all of us teachers live in. So there was a mass exodus of us teachers to malls, coffee shops, and the like to make up for our ability to cook, websurf, or most importantly make coffee.
And Car Talk had just come on as I was streaming NPR when the power went out. Boo.
But I had some awesome fajitas and dare I say even better conversation at TGIFriday's, went to about the only teacher-friendly store in Honduras and got some posterboard (which apparently I can get about anywhere but haven't seen).
I have yet to do any planning or grading for the weekend. And tonight is the much anticipated Honduras v. Trinidad & Tobago futbol game (That's right, Honduras is so good they're taking on TWO opposing teams -- huh? ... Not two? ... ... Oh.)
Although, next week is Mexico (in Mexico) and Oct. 10 will be the USA team here in Tegus. I think we teachers may try to go to that.
At any rate, the entire Honduran population is dressed in getup like these guys, whoever they are.
I hope my dear readers are doing well (some of you keep me abreast of your goings-on in life through other means), and I hope my blog has been useful and helpful for you in keeping tabs on me. I apologize for the lack of pictures, but given the 12 megapixels of my camera, each of my photos is around 5 MB and takes forever to upload. And then they turn out small like that flower picture. I'm not sure what gives. If anyone has tips, please let me know. I can try another one:
I give up. I waited 10 minutes for it to load. You can check facebook; facebook is there for me where blogger is not.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
...doing activities along with my students
Well, the punt got me far enough downfield. I am satisfied. During the 10 minute free-write each class did, I wrote right along with my students. (I made sure to glance around from time to time, making sure my students were actually right along with me, but my pen nearly never stopped moving.) I thought I'd share these three 10 minute writings with you.
(Context for the first one: that morning we had a flag day assembly out in front of the school, where students should have been paying attention and being patriotic, not to mention simply being respectful of what was going on. I was completely unimpressed by the behavior of my 11th graders. Many of them were acting like second graders - talking with their neighbors WHINING when a teacher would split them up - "Meeeester...no. Meeeester, no." They're all right in class, but the girls especially are terrors when in larger groups like chapel or this assembly:)
#1
This morning we had acto cívico for flag day, and every student from 6th-12th grade met out by the flagpole for a ceremony of raising the flag and a speech from Mr. Barahona about the flag, the national anthem, and pride for your country. (At least that's what I could gather from the speech in Spanish.) What I was really struck by during the assembly was not the sound of the anthem being sung, or the carefully thought-out words by Mr. Barahona, but the fact that so many of my students couldn't seem less interested in being there. I come to expect some national pride from everybody, or if someone is not proud of their country I expect them to be vocal about it or make protests or the like - but these students couldn't seem to care about anything but making sure their hair was straight or talking with their friends about things they can talk about countless moments out of the day. It really makes me wonder why it's worth being down here in Honduras teaching. I'm expecting to teach the future leaders of the country, but those future leaders don't seem to care about their country. Why should I bother trying to teach them or inspire them? I hope they can prove me a reason why in the near future, because their apathy is incredibly discouraging. I can understand not caring about English or reading - I come to expect that, in fact - but I'm not seeing much besides frivolous things that certain students can actually invest energy in. I hope I'm seeing things wrong.
#2
The second class of the day. Things are moving forward. The smaller children are playing outside, with an occasional scream punctuating the half-silence of the room. Silence comes at a great premium here at International School. The Honduran heat necessitates open windows, and the close proximity of elementary, middle, and high schools ensure that some group of people will be somewhere nearby making noise at all times of the day. I think my students in general are accustomed to it, but I am not yet. I hope I may grow to be accustomed to it, to appreciate the joyous noises of youth, and allow them to complement the way I teach rather than fight it.
There is much I need to grow accustomed to here in Honduras. It is a beautiful country, but changing your lifestyle is never an easy transition. I pray to God every day for continued smoothness and the grace to adapt, and in general, I can see him answering my prayers.
#3
The end of another day. 7 school days down. I'm starting to feel the groove of the year and understand how each week can be expected to go. Of course, next week we won't have any actos cívicos or half days, and I'll really be able to understand that, but for now, I'm just glad to be able to remember which classes I have double periods with and when.
I'm glad that I feel comfortable in front of class. I'm glad that the class, my students, seem comfortable to be in class, even when they come sweaty and tired from PE. Being comfortable is the most important thing for learning, I feel. I know I have to plan things competently, but even planning will be easier when I know whatever happens in class, we all will feel at ease. When we feel at ease, we are more willing to take risks. When we take risks, we can really grow. Once we grow, we feel comfortable in even more situations and the process starts all over again. This is what learning should be and, I feel, what God expects of us. I pray that my efforts, as well as those of my students, will help this happen.
(Context for the first one: that morning we had a flag day assembly out in front of the school, where students should have been paying attention and being patriotic, not to mention simply being respectful of what was going on. I was completely unimpressed by the behavior of my 11th graders. Many of them were acting like second graders - talking with their neighbors WHINING when a teacher would split them up - "Meeeester...no. Meeeester, no." They're all right in class, but the girls especially are terrors when in larger groups like chapel or this assembly:)
#1
This morning we had acto cívico for flag day, and every student from 6th-12th grade met out by the flagpole for a ceremony of raising the flag and a speech from Mr. Barahona about the flag, the national anthem, and pride for your country. (At least that's what I could gather from the speech in Spanish.) What I was really struck by during the assembly was not the sound of the anthem being sung, or the carefully thought-out words by Mr. Barahona, but the fact that so many of my students couldn't seem less interested in being there. I come to expect some national pride from everybody, or if someone is not proud of their country I expect them to be vocal about it or make protests or the like - but these students couldn't seem to care about anything but making sure their hair was straight or talking with their friends about things they can talk about countless moments out of the day. It really makes me wonder why it's worth being down here in Honduras teaching. I'm expecting to teach the future leaders of the country, but those future leaders don't seem to care about their country. Why should I bother trying to teach them or inspire them? I hope they can prove me a reason why in the near future, because their apathy is incredibly discouraging. I can understand not caring about English or reading - I come to expect that, in fact - but I'm not seeing much besides frivolous things that certain students can actually invest energy in. I hope I'm seeing things wrong.
#2
The second class of the day. Things are moving forward. The smaller children are playing outside, with an occasional scream punctuating the half-silence of the room. Silence comes at a great premium here at International School. The Honduran heat necessitates open windows, and the close proximity of elementary, middle, and high schools ensure that some group of people will be somewhere nearby making noise at all times of the day. I think my students in general are accustomed to it, but I am not yet. I hope I may grow to be accustomed to it, to appreciate the joyous noises of youth, and allow them to complement the way I teach rather than fight it.
There is much I need to grow accustomed to here in Honduras. It is a beautiful country, but changing your lifestyle is never an easy transition. I pray to God every day for continued smoothness and the grace to adapt, and in general, I can see him answering my prayers.
#3
The end of another day. 7 school days down. I'm starting to feel the groove of the year and understand how each week can be expected to go. Of course, next week we won't have any actos cívicos or half days, and I'll really be able to understand that, but for now, I'm just glad to be able to remember which classes I have double periods with and when.
I'm glad that I feel comfortable in front of class. I'm glad that the class, my students, seem comfortable to be in class, even when they come sweaty and tired from PE. Being comfortable is the most important thing for learning, I feel. I know I have to plan things competently, but even planning will be easier when I know whatever happens in class, we all will feel at ease. When we feel at ease, we are more willing to take risks. When we take risks, we can really grow. Once we grow, we feel comfortable in even more situations and the process starts all over again. This is what learning should be and, I feel, what God expects of us. I pray that my efforts, as well as those of my students, will help this happen.
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