Goodbyes

I still can't comprehend that in 36 hours I'll be on my way to the airport. This past week has been full of Christmas, goodbyes, and too little sleep.

Two Fridays ago we had a goodbye volunteer potluck for me. Everyone brought a dish, and to be honest, we all really came through. Given the food that usually happens at our houses, the banana bread, fried yucca patties, brownies, mashed potatoes, and creamy cilantro spaghetti were unprecedented and completely delicious. We had a really nice time, though that became the beginning of my goodbyes.

On Monday I went to my last tutoring session at Carlos' house. His family had bought me an entire sheet cake from San Pedro to say goodbye. 

Tuesday night was the first night of Hanukkah. I celebrated by attending the staff Christmas party at our house. The entire school faculty showed up with food, we ate, and then we awkwardly gave gifts in front of everyone to our Secret Santas. Dulce, my classroom aide and the person to which I had been giving gifts, told me that the pack of fruit snacks that I had regifted to her (from one of my kids) was gummy vitamins. Oops.

Wednesday was my last tutoring session at Hernan's. He fell asleep midway through the tutoring, which had never happened before. I guess in some way it must have been symbolic of our learning together.

Thursday night Hernan's family held a going away party for me. They invited all the volunteers, served us enormous plates of delicious Honduran tacos, and hung out with us for hours. We made it home around midnight and woke up for school a few short hours later.

With this week being the last week of school before break, Christmas was in full swing. We made ornaments and played with bubbles. I finished all 30 pairs of foam antlers last weekend for our Christmas performance, and Tuesday's antler fitting went well. During our Thursday dress rehearsal, complete with antlers, tails, and red noses, my kids started sort of actually singing the song.

Friday: my last day as a Prepa teacher, my last day with my kids, and the last day of school before Christmas. When I walked over to Prepa before school began, one of my girls was already in tears over the fact that I was leaving. As I held her for a solid four minutes I fought back tears of my own. Later in the morning, I was summoned back to Prepa. When I walked into the classroom, all 30 of my kids jumped out of their seats and hugged me at once. As they hugged me, they said the phrase that had been newly taught to them by an aide that morning, "Miss Eliza, thank you for teaching me," and that about broke my heart in two. I still can't believe they learned that. We had a cute surprise goodbye party for me, ate cake and a meal, played outside, hugged, and took pictures. Hernan bought me a donut. The kids were absolutely thrilled with the Christmas bags I'd made for them. After an extremely unproductive and hot Christmas pageant walk-through, the day was done. Teaching is over.

Later, the Christmas pageant only started 45 minutes late. Somehow the first act, my kids were damn cute.

The evening then consisted of taking pictures with kids, watching mediocre Christmas performances, serving tamales to families, and holding back tears. And that was the end, I guess.

Pretending I can pull off Christmas

Over the last few weeks it's been clear that Christmas is arriving to Honduras. Lights and decorations are popping up around the school. Students are making wreaths in art class. A staff Secret Santa drop-off box sits in the office. A Christmas aisle glows in the supermarket. Classroom aides wear Santa hats. Spray-painted frost even made a brief appearance in the windows of a restaurant.

Everyone at school is preparing for our Christmas pageant, each teacher deciding what their grade will perform. Seventh grade has been practicing "All I Want for Christmas is You." It's such a difficult song to sing that I have been rehearsing it with them during my resource periods for their class. After trying to teach the song for 45 minutes, I think it's safe to say that I've become quite familiar with Mariah Carey's voice. Besides that song, which I've decided I do like, every grade is working on something. Third grade is singing "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree," and eighth grade is dancing to a pop song. In Prepa we are singing a reindeer-themed version of the hokey pokey, "The Reindeer Pokey," that I found online. I figured it would easy enough to learn since we regularly sing the hokey pokey, and then we'd dress all the kids up with antlers and tails and red noses. Now I get to make 30 sets of antlers this weekend. The kids are having trouble saying hooves and antlers, though, so worst case scenario they'll just look like lost little reindeer.

The thing about all this Christmas is that I've never done it before. I have never actually celebrated Christmas to the extent that is expected here. I feel fairly under-qualified to be planning the Prepa portion of the Christmas pageant, to be decorating and hanging the stockings that I decided we'd make in class, and to be explaining American Christmas traditions to eighth graders. That said, I'm also definitely under-qualified to be a teacher. And since I seem to be pulling that part off okay, I think I'll probably be able to manage this Christmas thing. I have to admit, though, that the stockings I cut out for my class to decorate were a bit misshapen. I then (joyfully - Christmas spirit?) spent an hour hanging them across my room.

Tomorrow we'll be making paper snowflakes. Snow is a topic that I feel much more prepared to teach to my children - maybe because of my Minnesotan upbringing or something. Last week we started talking about snow. I showed them photos of my house in a snowstorm and then we drew pictures of houses upon which we painted snow. The kids had a great time, especially when I got silly and started painting some of their noses white. And then they got sillier and started painting their own and each other's faces. It ended with a bit of yelling, but cute as ever.

I did consider teaching my kids about Hanukkah - for about half a minute. I even thought about having them be a menorah for the Christmas pageant. Then I realized just how confused they would be, especially on top of learning about that abstract concept of snow. That and the Honduran staff might've all had cows. So I've come to embrace what is likely my only chance ever to lead Christmas.

I have thirteen days left in Honduras. I can't really comprehend that right now. I've told my kids that I'll be leaving, and every day they ask me, "tomorrow you won't be here, right, Miss?" Learning a sense of time has not yet appeared on our curriculum. Some of the kids are sad at the news and express that every single day, some of them are excited, some of them could care less. I'm so going to miss each and every one of them. Their energy literally brightens my day every time I see them. I'm not quite sure how I'll manage without that. I'm now trying to stock up on cuddles every chance I get.

** Rat update: last week the rat was spotted in the kitchen one afternoon. Kris and Sebastian chased it out into the courtyard with a plastic badminton racket and a broom. They smashed it to death. Standing on chairs on the patio, Liz and I screamed loads. The rat was then flung out the front gate. As of now, no longer sure of the current rodent situation in our home.

Hotdogs and Hand Turkeys

First, a bit on the weather. Apparently there's a cold front or something passing through Honduras, meaning that as far as the forecast predicts on my phone, I can see only rain. It's been raining for the last few days and is predicted to continue for at least the next week. Along with the rain has come cold, meaning that the weather is in the 60s. Accustomed to the crazy Honduran heat, we've all been wandering around in fleeces and avoiding showering because we have no hot water.

The rain started on Wednesday night. The thing about rain here is that it usually means no running water. Supposedly the rain floods the sewers, potentially contaminating the reservoirs. To avoid distributing contaminated water, the government turns off the water. Except for sometimes the water goes off when it hasn't rained in days, so I'm really not quite sure about it all.

On Tuesday afternoon we had scrubbed and cleaned our pila (the uncovered back-up water supply tank behind every home,) meaning that on Wednesday we hadn't yet had a chance to fill it back up. Wednesday night when it started to rain, we realized we needed to fill our pila and planned to turn on the tap before we went to bed. But, as expected, we forgot. Wednesday morning we awoke, realized that there was no water in the pila, looked at the forecast for the week, saw the mountain of dirty dishes we hadn't done in a few days, and realized we hadn't really prepared for this. We had no water and no clean dishes. Oh well, life in Honduras. Fortunately for us, the rain hasn't been constant, so the water has come back on periodically. We managed a deep-clean of the kitchen on Thursday and the pila is now completely full.

Thursday. Thanksgiving. Celebrating Thanksgiving is a tradition at CBS. The school likes the values of family and being thankful, and as the holiday is becoming more celebrated in Honduras, it makes sense to recognize Thanksgiving at school. The American teachers were asked to give a short presentation about the holiday. Amanda had her notes from last year's presentation, so she gave the same 4-minute presentation while a few of us showed poor-quality printed photos of turkey dinners to the kids. Somehow they thought the turkey looked awesome.

After the presentation, I had to cover a seventh grade class for a teacher who was absent. I walked into their classroom to find donuts, sandwiches, Pepsi, and cookies everywhere. As I entered, they shoved food into my hands. I was completely fine with partying with them, as no lesson plans had been left by their math teacher. The only thing I had planned was to make hand turkeys with them, the same activity I would later repeat with Prepa. I knew watching seventh graders make hand turkeys (the most juvenile Thanksgiving craft on Pinterest) would be great. If we're being honest, approximately 40% of the activities I do at school are for my own entertainment, so I showed them the example I'd made, handed them crayons, and then hung all their finished turkeys up for display on the wall. I'm pretty sure their English teacher also got a kick out of it.

Prepa hand turkeys bested 7th grade hand turkeys.

Partway through our hand turkey and feeding frenzy, one of the boys spotted a mouse. He started screaming, all the kids started screaming, I'm pretty sure I started screaming. When the boys started following the mouse over the divider that separates seventh grade from eighth grade, I told everyone to go outside. We collected ourselves and reentered the room to resume eating.

After seventh grade it was time for the Prepa party. The Prepa Spanish teacher, Miss Betty, had made a list of food that delegated specifically what each kid should contribute, according to family's financial situation. I had seen the list of food items beforehand and decided not to comment on the projected menu. When I arrived kids were eating fried tortillas with beans and cheese, orange juice, and sandwiches. Later, I found out that the girl who brought the sandwiches had misunderstood her task and had simply brought a loaf of bread. Isis, the aide, got ham and cheese from the cafeteria and did some last-minute sandwich-making for the kids.

We're still really working on the idea of sharing.

Our party consisted then of singing our new dinosaur songs (letter D,) watching J is for Jellyfish videos, playing outside, returning inside for fruit salad, and making our hand turkeys. The kids fought over the leaf decorations I had for their turkeys and struggled with using glue sticks, as usual. We talked about what we were thankful for and acted out turkey sounds and motions. The kids were thankful for everything from lettuce to tablets to mothers. Then it was time for cake and more juice, after which only one of the kids threw up on the floor. We passed out bags of candy, and the day was done. I was completely exhausted and so full from the food that everyone kept handing me.

After school I went to tutoring. When I arrived at Hernan's house, I was told that we wouldn't be doing lessons, instead we would all hang out together. There were lots of people at his house, most of whom I'm assuming are family. We ate corn on the cob and a warm corn drink, and then they sent me home with eleven corn tamales. I kind of sensed a theme to their Thanksgiving cuisine.

At home, one of the Honduran teachers from school had stopped by with his entire family. Earlier in the day he had promised that he and his family would be bringing by hotdogs to our house for dinner, mentioning that they would "his special recipe." Uncertain how one could possibly make hotdogs with a "special recipe," I have to admit we were a bit skeptical. Mr. Rafael and family arrived with tons of food that they assembled and served us for dinner. It turns out that the special recipe was some french fries inside a bun, topped with hotdog-esque sausage pieces, then covered in coleslaw, pulled pork, and I think some sauce. It was good and so very kind of them.

All said, the day was not what I would have expected from a Honduran Thanksgiving. It was also unlike any Thanksgiving I'd ever had before, even the Thanksgivings I used to spend with my family at water parks in Wisconsin. I really am truly thankful for all of this, whatever it even is.

Because I suppose it's the season of giving, there's one more thing. We've finally launched our school fundraiser, with the aim of raising money to construct a full functional library for our students. This means getting custom-made shelves that protect books from our leaking roof, as well as buying new books that aren't from the 1970s. If you'd like to check out our fundraising GoFundMe page, here is the link: http://www.gofundme.com/cofradiaschool. At the bottom of the page there is a short documentary - the short version of the full-length documentary that Liz's brother is currently working on - about the school, including some footage of me talking and teaching. It gives a nice sense of the school and what volunteers are trying to do here, so feel free to even just check out the video. No need to donate, though I can guarantee that any and all donations anyone wants to share will be used to directly benefit our students. This blog post that I wrote a month and a half ago talks about why I believe in what I'm doing here and support the school I'm working with, because I still really, really do. Please let me know if you have any questions at all about the school, our fundraiser, or other ways to support these kids. Thanks y'all.

Hernan

The last couple of weeks have been a little bit rough. With two new volunteers, one of whom is the new second grade teacher, I have become a resource teacher, in addition to teaching Prepa. The transition away from my second graders has been somewhat heart-breaking. The transition into resource teaching has been interesting, especially since I'm mostly working with kids at the lowest academic level within each grade. It's definitely different.

But my Prepa children are absolutely and completely precious. And truly light up everything. I have no idea how I'll leave them in a month. The joy that literally fills their faces every time they see me walk towards their classroom is heart-melting. The run to me with so much glee, arms outstretched for a hug. As I hug them and say good morning, they'll proudly (and without prompting) produce a phrase from class, such as, "I'm fine, thank you!" or "My name is Nahomy!" or "I need water please!" It's really cute. Sometimes my kids will come up to me and shyly hand me something - a mandarin orange, a drawing, a stale Oreo. It's astounding how much they love me. And how much I love them. I can't even believe it or adequately put it into words.

I tutor seven times a week - two of my Prepa students each get two lessons a week, and another one of those seven lessons is an adult English class that I'm teaching to the family of one of my students. I still teach Elmer to read once a week. It's all a lot. All of the kids I tutor are extremely behind, except for one, whose parents simply want the extra lessons. For my hour of tutoring in each of these cases I make $2.50. Sometimes I'm given food or a snack, sometimes not. And while tutoring is completely different from teaching and completely exhausting, I really do like the chance to work with my kids, almost able to hold their focus for an entire hour.

Hernan, during a station that he participated in.

Twice a week I tutor Hernan. He's new to CBS this year and came to the school with no English and no real sense of how to act in a school environment. During most of my lessons I look over to see him leaning all the way across his table to talk to another kid. Or I look over and he simply isn't in his seat at all. Sometimes he's under my desk, wandering around the room, or playing with toys. During stations I often lose him. At recess he is constantly racing around, with occasional stops in the classroom to grab a bite of his food.

Hernan is beyond wonderful, though, and definitely one of my favorite kids in Prepa. He has so much energy. He's seldom still or quiet, and is honestly quite a challenge in the classroom. His attention span is even lower than the already low average attention span of my class. I often have to literally hold his hand to get him to focus. It's not easy to try to teach him English. But Hernan has the biggest, most delightful smile. He's the tiniest kid in the class but just lights up when he's happy. When he does something right, he beams. Every day he races towards and I absolutely have to pick him up in a hug. He adores me, and I him.

Hernan has come so far since the beginning of the year. Even though he writes "Hahahan" because he still can't write his name, it's better than "H" at the beginning of the year. I am so proud of that boy. He struggles with letters, but knows how many fingers correspond to each number. A week ago during a color-by-number activity, Hernan actually made an effort to color each piece of the picture the corresponding color. Never mind that he still accidentally colored the green areas pink. Ask any of the volunteers, Hernan is the single kid that I most talk about.

Every time I tutor him, his family feeds me an enormous dinner. It's wonderful to spend two nights a week working with Hernan, seeing his success, and then eating and hanging out with the family. His entire extended family is so kind and we've become close. Last night they gave me a whole homemade coconut flan to bring home to the volunteers. It was very delicious.

Earlier this week Hernan's dad found out that I'm leaving in a month - apparently he hadn't known beforehand. He looked almost devastated to hear the news, and explained to me that Hernan doesn't do well with change. I about burst into tears. I would stay for Hernan, I really would.

I love these kids.

J is for Jellyfish

One of my favorite moments from last week was on Tuesday, when I taught letter 'J' to Prepa. Each week we learn a new letter, along with it's sound and select vocabulary beginning with that letter. Last week we learned J, and the vocabulary was "juice," "jump," and "jellyfish." Juice they already knew from the previous year with Miss Amanda, so that was review. To teach them jump, I lined all the kids up on the foot-high ledge outside the classroom. Let me preface this by saying that I knew from the beginning that this wasn't my safest teaching idea yet - it was just too 5-year-old exciting to pass up. On the count of three, I commanded, "JUMP!" as all my kids shrieked and gleefully jumped off the ledge and onto the ground. This occurred over and over and over again, for a solid six minutes. The game ended when a kid was pushed off the ledge before I even reached number three, and he solidly face-planted in the dirt. That was my cue to reinstate responsible judgement.

That left jellyfish as our newest vocabulary word. So on Tuesday, as I tried to draw Jell-O on the board and quickly realized how confusing that would be with Honduran-child pronunciation of "yellow," I decided to fully embrace "jellyfish" as our symbol of letter J. I drew a jellyfish on the board, told the kids what it was, and had them repeat the new word many times. Then I started to act it out. I can't really describe how I acted out jellyfish, especially since I can't describe the way a true jellyfish even acts. It involved flopping my arms and neck around and making bubble noises. Somehow, my eyes ended up closed. When I was satisfied with my performance, I opened my eyes, only to see that all of my Prepa children were imitating me and being jellyfish. My whole class was flopping around and actually embodying jellyfish.

That was that favorite moment.

Due to the success of our "J is for Jellyfish" lesson, I decided we had to film my class of jellyfish. Friday I announced to my kids that we would be making a video of "J is for Jellyfish." And on a whim, I explained that we would be sending the video to my mother, father, and brother (vocabulary that we had learned during the beginning weeks of school.) I also added that my mother, father, and brother would make a "J is for Jellyfish" video for my Prepa class. This news got them real excited - more excited than my family was when they learned over Skype on Saturday of the promise that I had made to my class.

Here's the short video we made. It's real cute. Apologies for poor quality, not quite sure how that happened.

Mom, Dad, and Jeremy, thank you so very much for rolling with this and getting so fully into it. Your "J is for Jellyfish" response video was adored by my children. We watched it four times in a row, and I suspect that we will continue to watch it for the next month. The kids got really really excited at several points in the video, which led to more happy shrieking.

*Update on our rat situation:
The exterminator came on Sunday to evaluate the rodent situation at our house. His extermination offer, however, was too expensive. So the husband of one of the school's owners came and laid his own rat traps and poison in our house. We'll see what comes of that.

2 (5 buses + 2 ferries + 1 taxi)

With 90-day Honduran tourist visas, we had been promised official legal work visas this year, as the school had hired a lawyer specifically to orchestrate this for the volunteers. However, as per everything Honduras, this has not yet come through. Mostly due to a lack of funds. And about ten days ago we learned we'd have to go on a visa run (outside of the CA-4 region: Nicaragua, Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador) to get another 90-day visa. This weekend was a five-day weekend, the perfect opportunity for our visa run to Belize.

I'd had a fever since last Sunday and really was not feeling great, but also really didn't want to stick around inside the walls of my house for five days. So Wednesday morning seven of us got up at 6am and boarded our first bus into San Pedro Sula. Standing pressed against many other people wasn't my ideal wake-up. When we got off the bus in San Pedro, two of us had disembarked and the bus began to pull away. My jaw literally dropped. But it was okay because the bus pulled over again 100 feet down the road and the other five volunteers got off.

We got seats on the next bus, as well as the one after that. Then we got exit stamps from Honduras and walked out of Honduras and into Guatemala. Seats on that bus took us to Puerto Barrios. A short stop at Guatemalan immigration, where we got more stamps, as well as a couple instances of showing passports to soldiers on the road. At Puerto Barrios we bought ferry tickets to Belize, got exit stamps from Guatemala, and bought fresh juices.

Liz was also sick with the same thing I had, just one day behind me in the illness. Every time I get sick here she gets the exact same thing a day later. It's rather unfortunate.

In anticipation of the choppy ferry ride and our already queasy stomachs, we took dramamine.

The ferry ride was fine, and all of us got extremely sunburnt off the reflection from the water, despite the misleading overhead canopy.

In Belize we got off the ferry and headed through customs and immigration. When we saw the restroom with toilet seats, toilet paper, and soap, we knew things would be different in this country.

Trying to remember to speak English, we got on the next bus and immediately all fell asleep. When we got to the end of the line, our stop, we hopped off and jumped into taxis with only six minutes until the departure of our ferry. But we made the ferry and got to Placencia, a peninsula in Southern Belize. After walking around town for a bit, we finally found our hotel.

Liz and I stepped into our shared quarantine room and collapsed on the beds. It was now 5:15pm. I couldn't believe how comfy the bed was - no waking up sore from bed springs, like at home in Cofradía.

Thursday morning I was feeling pretty sick, but made it to breakfast and a nice walk around the town and down the beach. Then, I had really good intentions to swim. Unfortunately, however, I didn't make it to that. After laying in the shade on the beach for over an hour, I decided the beach wind was too cold for me. So I went back to the room to sleep. By 3pm I made myself get up, take a short shower, and head to find some more food. I found a coffee shop-type place famous for their seaweed shakes, which literally sounded like the best shake flavors I had ever encountered. Knowing I couldn't stomach a shake, I got a spiced chai tea, which was freshly ground and delicious. I went on a long walk and met some expats on the beach who thought I was 15-years-old.



Friday morning three of the volunteers decided to head home, including Liz, who was dreading the combination of travel and illness. I was finally actually feeling better on Friday, for the first time in six days. After a nice breakfast on the beach by myself, three of us rented bikes so that we could bike around part of the peninsula. First of all, these bikes were brand new. Second, they were bright purple. And third, there were no hand brakes - you had to pedal backwards to activate the break, something I hadn't done since I was five with training wheels.

The bike ride was great. Simply being able to be on a bike was wonderful, and the beauty of Belize was also fantastic. The whole time we were in Placencia, it was just so incredible to be able to walk wherever I wanted whenever I wanted, and to be able to be alone and on my own as much as I wanted. I finally realized how much I've missed that freedom. After our bike ride I bought gelato from the best ice cream place in Belize and went swimming. And being alone was lovely.

The people of Belize were so kind, no matter who we encountered. It was crazy to be speaking English and to see prices that matched those of the United States. It was also crazy to be able to drink the tap water and to be by myself. But everything was absolutely beautiful. And in contrast to the $51 I had spent the entire month of October, the visa run cost $276. So that was also a little crazy.

Saturday morning I got up early, got breakfast, and finally got a coconut-flavored seaweed shake for the road. We caught the first ferry (I wore sunscreen.) Took a taxi to the bus station, took the bus to the port and boarded another ferry in the rain. Back in Guatemala, a taxi to the border. Then a very full bus (retired American school bus) with people smashed together filling the aisle, plus another bus into San Pedro. By the time we got to San Pedro it was 7pm and there were no more buses back to Cofradía, so we took a taxi the rest of the way home.

I returned home to an almost spotless kitchen, sanitized to be rid of rat germs. But also, the fridge is completely broken again. And the stove is out of gas. So our cooking options have become rather limited.

Side note. Just a few elements of my birthday weekend last weekend:
- Rabbit killed and skinned outside the front door.
- Rat ran out from under the toaster over, across the counter, through the spices, and into a pot of spaghetti.
- Rat disappeared, likely into our room.
- Opening of a new, legit supermarket in Cofradía. I have not yet visited, due to the hours-long lines.
- 3.5 hour meeting with the Honduran teachers, ending in cake for Liz and I, whose birthday was the day after mine.
- Major shout-out to Mom and Oma for the wonderful packages that arrived on time.
- 103 degree fever.
- Stack of birthday cards made by the second graders. Turns out it was an assignment from their Spanish teacher to make me a birthday card, because each card was formatted exactly the same, but precious nonetheless.
- Surprise party thrown by second grade. With cake from the new supermarket and iced tea.

Tomorrow two new volunteers arrive - including the new second grade teacher. While I'm excited for my kids, I'll be sad to see so much less of them.

The Exam Week

This past week we had our state-mandated exam week for all students in grades 1 - 9. I, along with many of the volunteers, was a bit confused at the prospect of an exam week, for a few reasons. First of all, because the idea of final exams for elementary school students just wasn't something I'd encountered before. But more importantly, I had never written or given an exam to children. I had no idea what to expect or prepare for my second graders, nor did I know the point of this exercise. The entire week ended up being quite an experience.

I ended up writing easy exams and hoping against hope that my second graders would be able to pass them, despite their lacking ability to read or learn English. During the previous week, review week,  I spent each class period doing practice exams with second grade, practice exams that were literally copies of the real exam. I had to give them six exams: speaking, listening, writing, reading, grammar, and Physical Education. I prepared a study guide for my students with the exact questions that would appear on their written tests and everything they would need to know for these tests. I corrected each practice test I gave them and returned it to them with the correct answers. I literally handed out the answers to their tests.

Nonetheless, several students didn't pass each exam. Which appears to be the norm across all the grades. With a failing mark being anything under 70% in Honduras, failing English exams is not uncommon. Even when I read the reading exam to certain kids, students failed.

Some of my boys after finishing their last English exam.

Oh well. A new second grade teacher will be arriving at the beginning of November. I'm truly going to miss these kids, especially because I'm finally getting through to them. They actually respond to me now and seem to respect me, which is something I'm proud of. I'm really going to miss them.

Make-up week is next week. So I will retest each kid who failed an exam and I'll work through it individually with them. But in Honduras a student can't fail a grade due to a failing English mark, meaning that there aren't school repercussions except for on the transcript. So these exams don't mean much more than a progress report and accountability to the state.

Friday afternoon, a second grade student's parents came to talk to me. He is the smartest student in the class, but also has really rough behavioral issues. He doesn't like to ever listen to anyone, will frequently up and leave the classroom, or he'll build forts or set up massage stations in a corner of the room. He just really isn't into the whole authority thing. We don't ever address these issues with his family, however, because we know that he gets beaten at home.

When his parents came in, they wanted to know how he had done on his exams in my class. His practice exams from the week before had been returned with low marks - he had gotten distracted and stopped completing these halfway through, despite my best efforts to engage and reason with him. I know that he really likes me, and I'm the teacher with the most success getting through to him, I just can't always make it work. Anyway, his parents were concerned about the practice exams he'd brought home. Fortunately for both my student and I, he had absolutely killed his actual exams. On four exams he got 100%, and on the other two he only missed one point. I showed his exams to his parents, smiled really big, and explained how smart and wonderful their son is in my class, as well as how proud of him I am. I can't even express how relieved I was to only have good news to share.

On a completely different note, another major factor of the week was illness. I'm pretty sure that everyone in Cofradia is sick. I've spent the last week with a really bad cold, which my roommate caught a day after me. Another volunteer has been in bed with a bacterial illness all week, while two others have medical stuff going on right now. Both my aides, Isis and Dulce, were sick at school this week. In Prepa, several students were missing each day or all week, so my class of 30 kids became a much more manageable 22 bodies. Even Liz's brother, who arrived on Saturday to film CBS for a documentary, got pretty sick by Monday night.

On Friday Isis and Dulce were both too sick to be at school. It ended up a good thing, though, because I had decided I was going to teach the kids about Halloween, since we learned letter 'H' this week. Because of religion and conservative culture here, I knew the only things I could teach my kids about would be costumes, candy, and pumpkins. Friday morning Liz and I decided we'd do some third grade - Prepa bonding. Thank goodness Isis wasn't around to disapprove of the endeavor.

I explained to my kids that we had a very special activity planned for the day. We would be going to third grade. My kids had to be on their best behavior. I would be treating them like third graders, and so they had to show me that they could act the part. I explained it all in Spanish. Liz was simultaneously telling her third graders that there was to be no pushing or fighting or bad behavior in front of the Prepa kids. When it was time for us to go over to third grade, I told my kids to all stand up next to their chairs. I bent down for a second, and when I looked up, all my kids were standing, excitedly holding their chairs above their heads. We did have to carry our chairs over to third grade, but I had to explain to the kids that it wasn't safe to carry chairs that way. It was too late, though, because one girl was already sobbing after having been whacked in the face.

We left Prepa and slowly made our way to third grade, basically like a struggling, lopsided line of ants. It was one of the cutest things I've seen at school. We paired Prepa kids with third graders, explained Halloween, and then gave each kid pumpkin print-outs to turn into jack o'lanterns. Instructions were for third graders to help Prepa. All the kids had a wonderful time.

Upon return to Prepa at the end of the day, another volunteer asked one of my students how he was doing. He responded, "HALLOWEEN!"

Because We Actually Believe in CBS

Over the last couple of weeks we've been working to get CBS online. CBS has been online for years and is mentioned on dozens of sites around the internet, but we want to get CBS truly online. Like, modern social networking online. And it's been a big project.

We so want CBS to have the international publicity and support that the school truly needs. Spearheaded by Liz, we have re-evaluated our Facebook page, re-established our Twitter, and created an Instagram account. We are currently working on redesigning the school website and have also launched a volunteer blog. Paperwork to become a non-profit organization is in the works as of several months ago. And all this week, footage is being shot for a documentary about our school, to be entered in film festivals and shared on the internet.

It's a huge endeavor. And Liz has poured everything into it. Sometimes I can't remember why we are trying so hard. We're already donating our time, not to mention our savings, to teaching these children. The thing is, as volunteers, we all actually believe in Cofradía Bilingual School. We know the potential of the students, the volunteers, and the school, if only there were enough support. CBS does not have any international reputation. We are constantly trying to reach out and recruit volunteers because securing a full team for an entire year doesn't generally happen - we just don't have enough applicants or enough connections.

As volunteers, we teach our children to the best of our abilities. We give them everything we know how to give and hope that they'll get something from it. But we want to do more than that. Every volunteer here is reluctant to leave at some point, never knowing how strong the next team of volunteers will be and whether or not things will slip downhill.

The fact of the matter is, from all outside appearances, the school is a mess. None of the toilets flush and finding toilet paper is never a given. The principal doesn't have much idea what he's doing. New students enter the school at completely varying educational levels. One of the Honduran teachers does not know how to make copies. There's a water-damaged library in a corner that I did not know even existed until today. The walls between classrooms don't reach the ceilings. And the school can't fire the strange night guard because whenever they've tried to do so, things have started disappearing from school property until the moment he's re-hired.

Coming here, I knew this was what I could expect.

What I did not know was how functional that mess has become. The volunteers are the heart of the school. Amanda, the volunteer coordinator, holds everything together. The volunteers are creating both a school and an environment where kids can really learn in an incredible international and multicultural way. And with all that we have to work with, it is completely and utterly impressive that our school functions with the efficiency that it does.

That's why we are trying so hard to get CBS established on social networks. CBS has been around for seventeen years. Because each of us is aware that we won't be at the school forever, we want to feel some assurance that it will continue to function successfully without us. We are a part of the school and the community, and we can't just leave that be. We want to do everything in our power to help the school into a more sustainable position, with an increased capacity to help students and their families.

That's why we've posted class photos and teacher bios of each volunteer to the school Facebook page. That's why the Instagram account is now filled with pictures of adorable children, the school soccer team, and great teaching moments. The Twitter contains all sorts of quick school updates. We have written extensive volunteer bios for the new website, which is being sketched out by hand, while profile photos of each volunteer are taken. Our volunteer blog will be updated at least once weekly, with posts written by all of our volunteers here, regarding school happenings, life in Cofradía, and volunteer reflection. Our second blog post, published today, was written by me. And to top everything off, Liz's brother, a film-maker, arrived on Saturday to shoot footage for a documentary about CBS.

We just want to share this thing that we believe in with others. And by sharing our school with others and growing our community, we hope to strengthen our school. While we also hope to launch a fundraiser for the school later this year, we aren't there yet, especially with social media.

So this blog post, dedicated to explaining our efforts, has two intentions. I'm writing this to process what the school has come to mean to me right now. I'm also writing this because of how real these efforts feel - I truly do feel like growing our support will make a difference for the students. And that's something I hope we'll become really proud of.

If you are at all interested in checking out our networking:

Website: cofradiaschool.com
Facebook: Cofradía's Bilingual School
Twitter: @cofradia_CBS
Instagram: cofradia_CBS
Volunteer blog: volunteertoteach.com

So. That's what I've been up to.

An Apple

My Prepa kids showing off their fall trees.

Last week one of my Prepa students brought me an apple. I truly do like apples, but this was different. Because in every picture-perfect story, kids bring apples to their teachers, right? Granted as a child I never brought apples to my teachers, but still. Jeremy, the student, nonchalantly handed me this red apple, and I almost fell over. I'm not sure he had any idea what that apple meant. It must be real now - I'm a teacher.

On Wednesday, however, I realized that when the second graders all give me hugs after lunch it's not because of how much they love me. It's so that they can wipe the sweat off their heads and onto my shirt. That was a lovely realization.

If I thought that the busito ride to Copan was rough, I was mistaken. On Tuesday afternoon I went to a student's house to begin tutoring. Most students get to school on busitos, and until Tuesday, I hadn't fully realized what this actually meant. The van was smaller than the busito we take to school every morning, and as they pushed me into the front seat with five other people, I realized that there were at least 25 kids in the van. Honduras has redefined a full vehicle for me.

On Wednesday, I tried to play Bingo with Prepa. I gave them each a Bingo sheet with squares, triangles, and circles, and told them to color the shapes red, yellow, blue, or green. The majority of the class used the right colors and those that also incorporated purples, pinks, and oranges likely realized pretty quickly what they had done wrong. I explained the rules of the game, both in English and Spanish, hoping that they'd catch on quickly. I was wrong. After every shape that I called out, someone in the room would yell "BINGO!" This even after I had only called one or two or three shapes, making a four-shape bingo impossible. After hearing "BINGO!" continuously for 25 minutes, giving prizes to the kids who had actually won, and observing all the kids who were simply too frustrated with the rules to play, I was ready for our next activity. The shapes game on the patio that I knew the kids would absolutely adore then fell through when we all got out to the patio to find it occupied by sixth graders. Learning to roll even more with whatever Honduras throws my way.

On Thursday I wanted to do a fun, hands-on activity with Prepa. I decided I'd teach them about the idea of fall, especially since we are learning about the pronunciation difference between "three" and "tree." Also, I just really miss fall. I printed up an outline of a leafless tree for each kid, explained what fall was and that leaves change color. I pulled out paint and had each kid finger paint leaves on with green, red, and yellow paint. But my aide and I had some different approaches to this project. I simply opened up the paints, showed the kids what to do, and let them loose. The kids at my tables were mixing all the colors, making big brown splotches everywhere, and wearing lots of paint. The kids at Isis' table were painting on one color at a time, cleaning their fingers between each new color, and following my picture exactly. Some sort of contrast between correct and fun became apparent.

I decided to hold a birthday party for Prepa. After being asked by a parent if she could bring in cake for her son's birthday this coming week, I remembered that birthdays are supposed to be celebrated. But because six kids had already had their birthdays in August and September, it was important that we give them the chance to celebrate, too, in class. So I planned a party for us. Thursday afternoon I went to the supermarket and spent an hour deciding what cheap snacks I could purchase for them - I settled on a variety pack of cookies, three bags of microwave popcorn, and candy for the birthday kids. The class knew about the party and had been looking forward to it all week. I had told them that if they wanted to, they, too, could bring in food to celebrate. After the supermarket, I headed home to make birthday packages for each birthday kid. These included stickers, erasers, candy, and a pencil, and took more time than I care to admit to prepare.

Friday morning at school a couple bottles of Coca-Cola arrived, as well as candy and more cookies. Miss Betty, the Spanish teacher and also one of the owners of the school, explained to me that in the future Prepa kids aren't allowed to bring Coke. Clearly I had missed this memo, especially since I'd seen the kids bring in liters and liters of Coke for Children's Day. She stated that today it was okay for us to drink the Coke that the kids had brought, but to not allow that in the future, and could she please steal a glass? By the time it was my turn to teach, an entire cake had arrived as well. After doing some class work, we had our party. We sang happy birthday not once, but to every single one of the six children we were celebrating, plus an extra practice round. That got long. We ate cake and drank Coke. Then we spent the rest of the morning singing and dancing to "10 Little Monsters," an extremely fast-paced and difficult to keep up-with song about monsters that I found on Pinterest that the kids loved, since we'd made Letter M Monsters on Monday and Tuesday.

The weekend was full of lesson-planning. Exam week begins next week, so writing exams and study guides for second grade constituted a large portion of my weekend. That and fasting. I broke my fast on Saturday with fresh bread and cream cheese, so almost a bagel. Chag sameach, y'all.

Some Sort of New Normal

It's been raining a lot here. So much so that during the night the thunderstorms will shake the house and cut the power. When that happens, the fans stop working. When the fans stop working, sleep stops happening. While the rain does make everything here cooler and more bearable, it also drastically increases the number of mosquitoes everywhere. For someone who hates bug spray but gets thoroughly bitten, these mosquitoes are an issue.

It's very fair to say that I miss fall.

It was a real long week at school. Long because it was the first full week we'd had in a while. But I'm finally getting comfortable enough to get more creative with my lessons. For our shapes review in Prepa this week, I made sugar cookie dough for the kids, which they used to model triangles and squares. To practice circles I brought in bubble wands and the kids ran around outside blowing bubbles, which they absolutely loved. Tomorrow we will be making Letter M Monsters.

All of a sudden, second grade got really cooperative at the beginning of this past week. The second half of the week wasn't as incredible, but I got a lot of hope on Monday and Tuesday when I saw that the kids were actually learning from my lesson plans. The week, however, still had its share of interesting moments. On Wednesday, as the kids were answering reading comprehension questions, one of my students announced to me that he cannot read. This wasn't as surprising as it should have been, given that this seems to be the vibe I'm getting from a significant portion of the class. On Thursday during PE, I looked over to see two boys eight feet in the air, climbing up some random poles stuck in the yard. On Friday, I realized that two students had simply left the room after finishing their quiz. I went outside to look for them and could not find either boy anywhere around the school yard. As I was explaining to a volunteer that I had lost two of my students, he spotted them coming out of the bathroom together, along with a third student of mine. Apparently I'd lost three. I think I get teacher points for that?

Today the refrigerator repairman came at Amanda's request. Turns out all the coils and wiring in the fridge and freezer were iced over, apparently preventing the fridge from getting cold, while the freezer interior snowed. So after thawing our entire freezer with Amanda's hairdryer, the repairman unscrewed everything, reassembled it all, and swept the large pond of water that had collected on the kitchen floor out the door.

Liz and I have been baking bread. We've made three loaves in the last week, plus bagels yesterday. We even splurged for cream cheese. Since good bread products aren't a thing here, this has all been a super welcome addition to our diet of beans and cheap produce. There's just one thing that makes this more exciting: at home I have never baked a loaf of bread that has succeeded in rising. But here my bread not only rises, but also has perfect texture and consistency. And this, even though we bake in a toaster oven that always takes almost double the baking time of any recipe.

I think a new normal is beginning to take some shape. Thanks to the constant surprises that I encounter here, I don't think I'll ever discover what exactly my new normal means. But I'm completely okay with that - it's what I signed up for. So I'm just going to keep right on teaching and cooking and getting to know these kids. Tuesday I'll begin tutoring the second grader who told me that he can't read. I'm definitely going to keep on being surprised day after day.

Two Days of Teaching + One Saturday Morning

Two full days of school this week were more than enough to exhaust me after a five day break.

Thursday morning, as usual, I headed to Prepa (the Honduran name for kindergarten.) I was trying to squeeze an entire week of curriculum into two days, so everything was going to be pretty real. The kids were fairly energized after five entire days of vacation. My objectives for Prepa on Thursday were to learn the letter 'S' and to learn the words and concepts of "mother," "father," "sister," and "brother." But before we could begin class, I had created an entirely new seating arrangement for the students. I honestly spent about 40 minutes planning it out. The kids had gotten really antsy and loud and I was hoping that mixing everyone up at each table would help in that respect. Anyway, by the time they were all situated in their new spots, they were all talking and playing and fighting just as much as usual and all I could do was hope that they would remember their new seating assignments.

Because we were fitting all the week's content into two days, I had decided to do three learning stations, instead of the usual one or two - this meant that my two aids and I were all teaching simultaneously, rather than me teaching one station while they supervised and controlled the children at each other station. Dulce, who speaks English, was helping the kids at her station draw pictures of things that started with letter 'S' around an outline that I had drawn of the letter in each and every student's English notebook. Isis, my aid who does not speak English (also the aid who hot-glued the posters to the wall,) was working with the kids to trace the letter 'S' on a worksheet. And I was showing my station two photos of my family, one from this summer and one from almost ten years ago. Using my family as a visual, I taught the kids "mother," "father," "sister," and "brother," and they loved seeing pictures of my family. The thing is, I wasn't sure whether or not this lesson would work. But it completely did. And they got what I was teaching them, which felt wonderful. I told them the names of all my family members and all the kids got super excited when I told them that "brother" is named Jeremy, because there is also a student in the Prepa class named Jeremy. The only complication in the whole matter was when I tried to teach them "sister," because I have none. I explained that I was the sister in the family, the sister of Jeremy. But they know me as Miss Eliza, not as "sister," so that was a bit rough. But I'm still beyond thrilled at the success of the lesson.

Thursday afternoon meant second grade. I teach second grade English for two periods every afternoon, but on Thursdays I teach them Science for one period and Physical Education for the other. One of the other volunteers who usually teaches them science writes the lesson plan and I try to execute it. They were learning about the mouth and had to glue 32 teeth to a drawing they had made - 16 on top, 16 on bottom. The concept of the number of teeth, however, was extremely difficult for the rowdy second graders to grasp. We ended up having to pull many teeth off their construction paper mouths, which ended up with very lopsided dentistry. By the time the period was over, I was ready to get them out of the crazy-hot classroom and ready to play the subject pronoun running game we hadn't made it to the week before. That was going to be the first half of PE, and the second half would be an actual game. Except for the second graders are still so much of a mess that they only made it through 15 minutes of PE before we had to head back to the classroom where we sat and attempted to review vocabulary. I so feel for those kids, and the fact that they have five different teachers only complicates things. I get along with them and they like me, but teaching them is really an uphill battle. For every one of their teachers. It's said that they are currently the worst class at CBS.

By Friday we were learning number three in Prepa and continuing with family. There's this little boy in the class, named Hernan, who is new to the school this year, meaning he has even less English than the other 4 and 5-year-olds. He's super tiny, adorable, and just all over the place all the time. During stations on Friday he'd wander around instead of working at his station. So I decided to just grab him and hold him close next to me while I worked with the other stations. We spend a lot of time around here cuddling the little ones and not worrying about contracting lice. When he got bored of hanging out with me he simply wandered back to his table. It worked very nicely, and honestly, I really do think I'm catching him up. The only other thing of note during Friday morning was when a boy told me he had to go "poopoo." So I told him to go to the bathroom. He just stood there and repeated that he had to go "poopoo." I again said that he should go. When he remained in front of me, I asked him if he could go by himself or if he needed help. He needed help. And that's how I learned that my kindergarten children are not fully potty-ready. Joy.

Second grade on Friday got off to a real rocky start. One of the volunteers who had been teaching them before lunch gave the entire class lunch detention. This meant that when I went into the room during lunchtime to arrange the desks into stations, I couldn't, as the room was full of students. It also meant that when lunch was over and class had begun, every single student had to use the bathroom. So that was fun. Even more fun were the twelve minutes of absolutely deafening noise that the students took to arrange their own desks into stations. And by the end of the two periods I had realized that the kids were not getting much of anything out of what I was trying to teach them. Which is pretty concerning.

Saturday morning was interesting. We had an 8am meeting with the Honduran administration and teachers. When we all stumbled into school together, the three male volunteers showing up 25 minutes late, we sat down to a very Honduran meeting. For three and a half hours, the Hondurans talked back and forth, heatedly discussing their grievances and issues with the school and its systems. We then took a short break for breakfast and Coca-Cola, set up a ridiculous student council system for ourselves, and resumed the debating. I was put on the "environment" committee; whether that means natural environment, school atmosphere, or fun planning, we have no idea whatsoever. I've been told that this crazy "student council" is set up each year for all the teachers and doesn't mean a thing. After three and a half hours we all headed back home and back to bed.

So that was school for this week. Teaching is freaking me out. And I've got so much to learn before I'll begin to feel even the tiniest bit of confidence in what I'm currently doing.

Eating my way through Copán Ruinas

I spent large periods of time this week carefully putting extreme amounts of poster putty on the back of all my classroom materials so that I could hang them on the (supposedly freshly-painted) walls. I had been specifically asked to bring down poster putty before I arrived, so I came very much prepared. I managed to get all the materials hung up, especially because the heat here only made the putty stickier. On Friday, Isis, one of my aids in the kindergarten room was hanging something up for the Honduran Spanish teacher, Miss Betty. I asked her if she wanted to use my poster putty, but she just shook her head and pulled out a hot glue gun. She explained that we wouldn't use a lot of hot glue because Miss Betty would get mad, but that it would really just be easier to hot glue the two posters to the wall. I'm still in a bit of disbelief over that.

But now it's the weekend - a five day weekend. Seven of us volunteers hit the road and went to Copán Ruinas, a small town famous for ancient Mayan ruins and a beautiful setting. First, though, the bus ride here. One word for it would be interesting. We waited in Cofradía for 40 minutes for the bus to show and then climbed aboard this tiny busito, a little bus similar to the van we ride to school every day. But when we got onto the busito, it was already completely full. So full that I was literally standing with my back against the door that we'd had trouble closing. So that was interesting. Also interesting was going over all the potholes and curves in the road, while we stood and attempted to maintain balance. Even more interesting was standing for the first two hours of the ride, occasionally alternating with a volunteer who had managed to secure a seat on the ground whenever one or two of us got too nauseated. When some people finally got off and we secured seats, the potholes and speed bumps were just as fun. However, I was then able see out the window and I am still utterly astounded at the beauty of this country. The rolling hills, incredible vegetation, cows everywhere, lush farmland, and stark contrast between immense poverty and money. Before coming here I truly had no idea this was the image of the country I'd find.

Upon arrival in Copán we headed to a hostal where five of us piled into one room with two double beds and a set of bunk beds. Copán is sort of in a valley, and it was truly gorgeous. The hostal was cute and had a fairly clean pool as well as a covered rooftop garden. And with Independence Day on Monday, the streets were decked out with blue and white flags. 

Two of the volunteers who had already been here described the food as one of the selling points of Copán - you can get food that's not just Honduran. I, loving food more than a lot of other things in life, was super into this idea. Shortly after our arrival, I got some curried roasted potatoes for lunch, and then shared a piece of apple pie with Amanda. I readily admitted that I planned to spend my weekend eating, and was just a little too excited about that. 

I'm really really into food. And the fact of the matter is, in the United States we are able to take all our culinary options a bit for granted. So being in a place where I could choose the cuisine that I wanted over beans or something fried for every meal was a big deal. 

Sunday morning Liz and I got up and headed out to find breakfast. The town was alive and full of tourists and delicious-smelling food. We each got a pineapple mango smoothie and then met up with Amanda. The three of us headed to a coffee shop, where Amanda and I split an Argentinian cookie with dulce de leche filling. It was great, especially because there isn't really dessert in Cofradía and I was beginning to go into baked good withdrawal. As we sat in the coffee shop, we talked about how much we like Copán. And how guilty we feel about that. Because Copán isn't truly the identity of Honduras. It is a nice, touristy town, that felt borderline European. And it was truly wonderful for a long weekend - to be able to visit a place where safety wasn't a primary concern, where delicious, quality food of any variety could be purchased, where there were things going on all the time, where white people weren't stared at along every street. 

Before heading to visit the ruins, we had to get lunch. We waited for 25 minutes at an upscale cafe to order sandwiches, only to finally learn that their fresh bread would not be cool enough for sandwich-making for an hour. However, as it turned out, this was the best thing that ever happened to us. We instead walked to a specialty cheese and coffee boutique. This was pretty exciting as cheese is neither great nor very accessible in Cofradía or Honduras. We ordered delicious grilled cheese sandwiches - mine was a chicken pesto mozzarella sandwich - that I know I will dream about for the next month.

After lunch we grabbed a moto taxi and headed to the ruins. Upon entering and passing through a heavy-duty fence and guard station that we joked was basically Honduran customs and immigration, we saw a sign that read "do not feed the macaws." We thought this was great and extremely fitting for Honduras, until we actually saw the macaws. They were absolutely stunning; bright red, yellow, and blue. They were everywhere, and seeing them soar in pairs across the temple ruins from enormous tree to enormous tree was unbelievable. Occasionally they would fly low and tourists would have to duck to avoid collisions.

The ruins were fantastic. I've seen a lot of ruins in my life, mostly in Mexico, but also in Guatemala. But I'd forgotten how cool ruins actually are. The idea that these structures are almost 1500 years old and represent an entire civilization is awe-inspiring. And since we are in Central America and liability is not ever of major concern, one can climb all over the ruins, exploring them and walking over these ancient structures. All three of us were blown away. The defining factor of the Copán ruins is the intricate and geometric designs and hieroglyphics. That, I had definitely never seen before. 

Archeologists unearthing the Copán ruins had dug a network of tunnels below the structures, to learn about construction techniques. Two of these tunnels were open to tourists - for an additional $15 fee, the same cost as entering the park. Rather than spend $30 to see what is basically exciting ancient rocks, we decided we'd simply stride confidently towards the tunnel entrance. Upon doing so, we were clapped at loudly by some guys. We played dumb, but were still not allowed to enter. It was okay though, because instead Liz and I had our first experience with fire ants. 

Monday was Independence Day. Despite an obnoxious car alarm outside our window all night long, a marching band, and screaming children, we got up early and headed towards the square. Liz and I split an omelette and Amanda and I split a piece of German chocolate cake. All was delicious. We then walked into the square where Hondurans were dressed in elaborate costumes or school uniforms. There was loud music playing, people everywhere, and a parade of each school in the area was making its way around the city.

By afternoon it was raining and six of us headed to the hot springs that Amanda had read about online. It was an hour-long drive through the mountains, and the pickup truck only had room for four in the cab. Theresa and I sat in the back of the pickup truck on a soggy mattress. And while the ride and views were astonishing, the drizzling rain and constant stares of Hondurans along our route were loads of fun. 

When we arrived at the hot springs, only a little bit nauseous, we were blown away. I'm not sure I can really describe it. For one, by then it was pouring. We were given a short tour of the hot springs and natural pools that had been created, and were soon drenched. It looked the way I imagine a luxury jungle spa would look. There were small pools of varying temperatures everywhere, all constructed by man, but done in a beautiful and natural way with lovely stones and rocks and paths. And the trees and vines surrounding everything were lush and untamed. It was incredible. Until the very end, we were the only people there. The rain made everything more beautiful and the steam rising into the jungle was pretty much magical.

Starving after having only eaten breakfast and cookies, we went out for dinner. I got a Greek gyro platter which was beautifully seasoned. It wasn't actually a Greek gyro platter, but a plate of grilled chicken with pineapple and veggies, alongside homemade "Moroccan" bread, a salad, and three very different but fantastic sauces. Then Amanda and I, of course, had to split a piece of homemade cheesecake smothered in strawberry sauce. 

This morning Liz and I got up really early to get breakfast before the 8am bus back to Cofradía. We headed to a local market for papusas and then got coffee. The bus we got was a slightly nicer busito and we all scored seats. 

Sitting in the bus, trying to snooze but instead watching the cows and landscape, I realized how happy I am to be here. I realized that I do like Cofradía, and the simplicity of living there. While it was so nice to be in Copán and to be able to spoil myself with delicious and varied food for every meal, I was ready to go home and make a big pot of rice and beans for tonight. I was ready to go grocery shopping and I was ready to sleep in my own bed and I was ready to lesson plan. I really do like my kids. It was so nice being able to take my phone out to take pictures on the streets of Copán, but I've come away from this weekend feeling so refreshed and motivated to jump back into school. And my belly is happy and full. 

I'm in Honduras and I still can't believe I'm here. I can't believe that this is for real, that this is my life. That I am in this existence. And I just feel so excited, all over again, that this is what is happening. 

This is the gap year I've been waiting  for. 

Torches and Exercise and Half-Days

This weekend I cooked my first-ever pot of beans. And they turned out delicious. They were red beans, which I assumed meant that they were kidney beans. I have yet to get that confirmed, though, which means they might be mystery beans. The beans were a very welcome addition to my diet. Unfortunately, though our fridge is set to the highest setting, it doesn't really keep food cold - just moderately cool. This means that everything spoils extremely quickly in the heat and humidity of Honduras. After approximately six meals of great beans, I had to throw out the remainders this morning.

When I was preparing to come to Honduras, I came with the realization that I likely would not be able to maintain my home exercise routines, due to the heat, setting, and scheduling. But on Monday, prompted by other volunteers, I started exercising. A little bit. Monday was a half-day at school, so in the afternoon I went on a run with two volunteers. To put it mildly, it was hot out. We ran through a poorer part of town I hadn't yet seen, across a gorgeous stream, and into a forested agricultural area. It was beautiful. And sort of hot. We ran through the middle of a herd of cows walking down the road, past horses, chickens, and wild dogs. By the time we got back and realized that the house was out of drinking water, the sweat was very real. We bought several bagged waters and tried to cool down for the evening's events.

Monday night was Día de las Antorchas, or Day of the Torches. Hearing of the torch parade, I had asked the other volunteers what it was all about. No one seemed to truly know, and said it was just a celebration of children. I went along with it. Unfortunately, my run from that afternoon was scheduled just a little bit too close to the time of the parade. I showed up at the parade still sweating off my run profusely, despite my cold shower and time spent standing directly in front of my fan.

The torch parade was amazing, and if I hadn't had to steer my children straight along the road, it would have been breath-taking. Every school in Cofradia - and it turns out there are lots more than I thought - attended and carried a different color torch. The littlest students, some of them my own, had trouble carrying their torches. They'd stick their empty arm out in the air to balance themselves, or would simply waver their way down the street. The torches would swing and droop just as much as the kids, and I still can't believe that no one caught on fire, despite dozens of collisions. As the night got darker and darker, the torches appeared brighter and brighter, until the street was illuminated by a parade of torches. I loved it. We plodded pretty slowly along the short parade route, finally reaching the town square where everyone quickly dispersed. I headed to go buy a delicious fried taco filled with chicken and vegetables. Now that I think about it, it was kind of like a Honduran egg roll. Actually, it basically was a huge egg roll.

 I found out on Tuesday morning, from Dulce, my Honduran classroom aid, that the parade was about knowledge and learning. The torches represented torches of knowledge and were meant to celebrate the opportunity that children have to learn. Apparently all across Honduras torches were wavering through the streets for Día de las Antorchas. I thought that was fantastic.

But back to the exercising bit. Tuesday night, my roommate, Liz, and I decided we would start doing workout videos in the large empty courtyard of the volunteer house. We set up a Blogilates video next to a fan and proceeded to sweat hard for the next 15 minutes. It was hot, dusty, and the video kept stopping to load on the spotty internet connection. But we loved it and plan to do regular workouts from now on. Next time we'll use speakers so that we can actually hear what Cassey (the instructor) is saying over Liz's unbelievably loud fan. We had planned on yoga tonight but that fell through when we were too exhausted. I'm a little worried about the lack of yoga mats on our concrete courtyard for the future, however.

Today was Día del Niño, or Children's Day. I had been told that the day was mostly about fun, games, and food. It would also be a half-day. I spent the morning decorating the school with balloons and streamers, alongside the Honduran teachers. Students then arrived and the piñatas began. Each grade had a piñata, so throughout the day piñata after piñata was cracked open by each class, producing a wriggling mass of children scrambling on top of one another for the copious amounts of candy. After piñatas came the games and presents. Then the food. Oh the food. A mother of one of my students had made an enormous pot of arroz chino, basically the Honduran take on Chinese fried rice. It was incredible. Accompanied by Pepsi and a white bread roll, this was followed by popsicles and then cake. To top off the event, each student was given a goody bag of candies and then released to run around outside. I can only imagine what tomorrow will bring, what with the sugar crash.

I've been here for almost a week and a half now. And though I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing here, all is okay.

There's not a lot of soap at school

And by not a lot, I mean that I haven't seen literally any.

I went to school on Tuesday, the morning after my arrival. I got up at 6am, which wasn't real ideal. My initial impression of school? Crazy - kids running around and yelling and hugging me and touching me and sometimes attempting to speak English. It wasn't bad or anything, but it also wasn't the easiest situation to enter into as a 17-year-old in a completely new country, running on very little sleep. But I have to admit, getting hugs from five-year-olds who didn't even know my name was a little cute.

After having now been at school for three days, I'm getting so much more used to the level of chaos. So far this week I've been teaching with Amanda, who was covering my classes until I got here. And after watching her teach and manage a classroom, and after listening to the volunteers, I've come away with my first major observation on education here: teachers must constantly yell and use extremely loud voices to command the attention of their classrooms. While in part this is due to a cultural response to loud authority, it also owes to the fact that the classrooms here are not built to absorb the sounds of screaming children - rather they amplify the noise. So in order to be heard, one must yell, and the rooms are never ever completely quiet. After teaching both kindergarten and second grade today, my voice was hoarse. However, I am able to see the kindergarteners learning about sunshine versus rain and hot versus cold, which is actually good. The second graders, on the other hand, have no main English teacher, but rather an assortment of teachers covering their classes until another volunteer can come down. They are completely insane and don't seem to be learning a whole lot right now. I tried to teach them about the eye and pupil dilation today and only a few of them grasped the whole "less light, bigger pupils" idea. So if anyone is looking to come volunteer with me, second grade will love you.

But back to the soap issue. It's no secret that I'm sort of a germophobe. I really don't like sharing germs and I really like staying clean. Thus, the whole no soap in the bathrooms or anything is kind of getting to me. Especially with kids all over me all the time. But I've decided it will be good for me, even if only by toughening my immune system.

I think that the bagged drinks will probably also toughen my immune system, along with basically everything I eat ever. The food at school is extremely salty and the meat is somewhat sketchy and unidentifiable. None of the food is by any means bad, it's just not the organic whole grains and vegetables that I have spent 17 years consuming. Plus, the two meals each day at school are free. I am expanding my palate by putting avocado and scrambled eggs (two foods I'm not super into) in the breakfast baleadas, a sort of Honduran burrito. I've heard that baleadas purchased outside of school, as well as other Honduran food, is really good, but I haven't yet ventured out to purchase any dinners. I've also found that most Honduran food is fried, and that there exists no concept of health here. 

I, along with the other volunteers, plan to survive on rice, beans, and fresh produce. That's what I can afford to purchase for dinner and it is the cheapest food that exists here. After realizing that I had to begin grocery shopping and cooking for myself, I went to the market and bought a fairly random assortment of food that I felt could sustain me at least for a little while. Somehow I ended up with a large bag of milk, and I really don't like to drink milk. So we'll see how that goes. I've eaten rice, cucumber, and tomato for the last two nights. Tonight I got a little adventurous and added hot sauce as well. I'll learn to make beans this weekend. And I'm really starting to appreciate inventions such as the rice cooker and crock pot that enable me to feel like I know how to cook back home. 

Tomorrow I'll start teaching lessons even more on my own. We'll see how that goes. Worst case scenario I'll give up on teaching English grammar and I'll start a school-wide health campaign. It'll be pro-vegetables and anti-germs.

I am in this place

I'm here. But it's not like I'm just here - I really am here.

After sweating my way through the Honduran customs line I found Amanda, the CBS volunteer coordinator, and we hopped into a van. Van might be a grand word for the vehicle we rode for 40 minutes into Cofradía. It was more of a creaky, rusty container on wheels, that happened to hold six lopsided benches. Apparently it's the van that brings us to school every morning and then back to the house every afternoon.

Honduras is beautiful. So much more so than I expected. I'm surrounded by mountains, palm trees and super lush farms. And amidst it all, driving down the road I saw a man peeing, a dead dog, and kids filing in the holes in the road. I am here.

After a sudden stop in a parking lot, my luggage was hauled out of the van. And onto a school bus. We were directed to get onto the bus, as apparently it would take us the rest of the way. The school bus was as much of a bus as the van was a van.

Got to the volunteer house. It has running water. Sort of. When I arrived, the water had already been out for four days and the kitchen was covered in dirty dishes. On a separate note, sounds like the house has rats. Liz, the woman I share a room with, explained that there is a rat that lives in our bathroom, under the shower drain. To solve this issue, there is a drain cover in the shower, that she has never ever removed. And supposedly the water drains sufficiently despite the drain cover. We keep the bathroom door closed. To also keep the cockroaches out of our room.

After sweating and unpacking the crazy amount of stuff Mom had been up all night packing for me, I went with Amanda to the town center. There I had the startling realization that I was now going to have to both grocery shop and cook for  myself.

It's hot here. I went to shower, a bit after the water had come back on. But when I turned on the tap, no water came out. I asked Liz if the water was out again, even though the sink ran a slow stream. She explained that the shower is kind of funny - if any other water is running in the house, the shower won't work. I, too, think that is funny.

This is real.

I am here.

One Week

One week until departure.

I've spent months trying to decide how I want to spend my gap year. I've done so much thinking, talking, brainstorming, and researching. And now, as pieces begin to fall into place, it's becoming almost real.

One week and I'll be in Cofradía, Honduras. From what I've heard, Cofradía is a small town of dirt roads and kind-hearted people. I'll be teaching both kindergarten and second grade at Cofradía Bilingual School. At CBS, Honduran teachers teach in Spanish for half the day and international native English-speaking volunteers teach in English for the other half of the day. This means that along with about ten other volunteers, I will be responsible for ensuring that my students learn fluent English.

Mentioning this position to one of my closest friends, she responded by saying, "So now you're a teacher?!" And that's how I feel - incredulous. Plus a little overwhelmed, a lot nervous, and even more excited.

Here's the link for the organization's website, which holds quite a bit of information: http://cofradiaschool.com/ .

One week can mean a lot of time. Or not a lot of time. For me, this week is full and will be a short one. I've got shopping and packing to do, goodbyes to friends, errands to run, and an appointment to get the cast off of my arm, due to a fractured wrist. On top of everything, this is my last week of nannying before my three little boys start school the day after I leave. Everyone is working hard to get me ready - Dad is carefully assembling a medical kit for me, reminiscent of his journalism days in Africa. Mom has taken on the book project, deciding to send me with 50 books for each of the grades I will be teaching. And with all this support from my family and everyone around me, it's hard to imagine that I will soon be off, on my own, and unbelievably independent.

I know that I can't yet begin to imagine what this year has in store. I don't even have many details ironed out yet. But I'm trying my hardest to get my head in the right space for my journey, because once I'm there I'll have to embrace it all at once.

I'm almost ready.

One week until my gap year.