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.