The Third Trimester

Sorry I've been bad at updating this recently.  Part of it is that I just don’t have much time, but it’s also that I haven’t found a lot of time for it. I haven’t had a lot of time because, during the week in the start of this new trimester, I have been incredibly busy. My first trimester was a difficult workload, the second trimester was difficult because of all kinds of things that were going on outside of school, and this trimester will be very difficult because of, again, the workload and, also the third trimester is the shortest. The first trimester was about 12 weeks long, the second was 10 (less with the time that I wasn’t here for) and the third is only about 8 weeks. I think it may even be shorter for the seniors, but I don’t know for sure. Things aren’t always communicated very well to us from the administration, which can be pretty frustrating.


So, this trimester I have a Philosophy class and Physics with Segundo Bachillerato, a few English reviews and a workshop with Tercero Ciclo, several classes with Segundo Bachillerato to review Biology, Chemistry, Math, to prepare them for the University next year, the same gym classes, and English with Andrea.


I have been enjoying teaching Philosophy so far because it allows me to talk about some interesting things that aren’t Science, Math or English, which are either full of cognates, numbers or English. This class has added some variety into my teaching and the vocab I’m learning. Physics has been going decently well, although it looks like it will get pretty boring and difficult soon enough when I stop talking about Thermodynamics and stop burning things in lab, and have to start covering things like light, magnetism and electrical currents, for which I don’t really have many lab ideas.


I’m also going to talk to the sisters soon about the idea I had months ago to move the school away from the IHER radio programs and make the school a more self-sustaining private school. Right now we use that radio program and their books, which don’t prepare them at all for anything other than memorization. It’s a shame that many of these students could perform on such a high level, and yet they’re still using this program, which is designed for students in the middle of nowhere who don’t have teachers. Here, however, they have teachers, time set aside for classes, and physical resources the majority of students here probably never have access to. If I could convince the sisters to go along with this, I would try to start with the last two years of High School level (the Bachilleratos) to gradually phase it in, because it’s going to be difficult to find materials like books and more lab materials, and then develop curriculums and instruct the Honduran teachers about how it is going to work. The good thing is that every year there will be new volunteers from Stonehill to carry on the work. The bad part is that I already mentioned something like this in the beginning of the year to Sister Marta, and it seems like some of the nuns in the community are really afraid of the effort and the change that this would require.


I will keep updating when I can about the progress I make on this front. In the meantime, if anyone were able to find ANY kind of lab equipment (thermometers, hot plates, glassware, anything), especially those of you returning to schools this fall which may have things lying around, I would be eternally grateful. Also, old textbooks--Bio, Chem, Physics, Math--even in English, would be extremely useful for future classroom development. The future Extension Volunteers would definitely be able to use resources like these, even if the girls can’t use them. We’re kind of in a void of information here because all we have is what we brought in our memories, some resources we brought or were sent, and the occasional internet connection. Again, if anyone could help us out a little, we would all be extremely grateful.

Quick Updates

1. We started our third trimester a little more than a week ago.  Will post more on this later (now that I say it out loud hopefully I will do it and stop slacking on updating the blog).
2. I sold a pizza for 100 Lempira to the corner store two weekends ago, so that they could sell it to the people coming in on the buses.  First step to opening my Guaimaca pizza parlor!
3. We bought a chick on Saturday.  Cassie and I were biking past a hardware store and she saw a cage full, then kind of bet me that I wouldn't.  Of course, I took the bet and we now have another family member, who is (almost) the messiest in the house.  It's definitely the loudest...we better get some damned good eggs from this thing.
4. We still have two dogs, the "exchange" that was supposed to happen two months ago when the puppy from the farm was brought to the house hasn't happened, and doesn't look like it will happen.  Ranger's looking pretty depressed because we like Ceniza a lot more.
5. The novena for the patron saint of the parish started this past weekend, and there will be a mass in a different Barrio (neighborhood) every night.  So far they've been really pretty, especially with everyone working together to pull it off.
6. The town party is starting this coming weekend, which will be interesting.  We've heard a few accounts of the dancing, drinking and singing that happens in the park almost every night, all night.
7. The Day of the Indian (a day of national cultural pride here) was a couple of weeks ago, and was really a beautiful celebration.  Each class made their own costume and chose their representative to compete for the title of the Prettiest Indian.  Each class also made traditional food, so it was a pretty awesome day of learning more about their culture and eating great food.  Also, the best part was that my student, Lilian, who had an extremely difficult second trimester with a lot of illnesses and some family trouble, won the title.  My whole class was so happy, I have some great pictures of them screaming their heads off.


That's all I can think of now.  Sorry if it's been disappointing reading lately.  My thoughts and heart were with everyone at the clamboil this past weekend!


Just remembered:
8. The opening of a new supermarket in town, owned by Walmart.  The only thing that's worth buying there is the beer, which is about half the price of the beer in other places, and the occasional fruit and veggies we want to use but can't find in the market or the back of someone's truck in the park (which usually only has seasonal and local produce).  The biggest advantage is that it's open later than the other stores, so if we need something before 7:00 we can now go there to pick it up.  This isn't an isolated case of development, however.  Even in just 7 months we've been here, we've seen a lot of development and construction around town.  Unfortunately, it's almost all been funded with drug money, remittances from the US, or by Walmart, as far as we know.  
9. Chris' bike was stolen from in front of the new supermarket, in the direct line of sight of the armed guard in the doorway. 

Can you say that?

First, I want to mention that I'm going to try and post about our family's visit soon, but I'm still trying to get caught up on the journaling and reflecting from then, so here's something new from today.

Political Correctness was always something I kind of laughed at in the same way that everyone does.  Before, what I was laughing at was the idea of “Correctness,” and that being decided in a courtroom.  Who’s to say what’s correct, and why do we need to define it?  

Many times PC seemed to be something over the top, something that disrupted normal living with rules that safeguarded who knows what, all because some misguided souls did not have the creativity to make up their own insults, or the openness to see the good in people, regardless of physical manifestations.  Of course, it was occasionally something that made a lot of sense.  When a lifestyle or physical appearance became so widely spread as an insult that children started using it ignorantly without regard to the millions of people they could be hurting with their slurs, in addition to the target, PC was something I was willing to defend.

Now that I have been in Honduras for six months, I can definitively say that I have changed in several ways, one of which is my sensitivity and awareness of what is PC.  Now, instead of laughing at the “Correct” half of the term, I find myself thinking more and more about the “Political” part, and how political is probably not the term we should use, but rather “Cultural.”  Politics is something that consumes and defines so much of our lives in the US, partly because of its presence in the media, but also because it seems like (compared to life here), in place of relying on cultural or traditional values, our society turns pretty quickly to litigation and rules (where here these hardly exist).  I’m really starting to get sidetracked, and feel like I’m getting into topics that I don’t know enough about, so I’m going to cut this line of thought short and explain what started me thinking about all of this.

First, my sensitivity to certain topics has definitely changed.  Here, people are very straightforward about body image, whether it’s weight, skin color, cleanliness, acne, height, what parts of you they think are less attractive, and the list could keep going.  After six months of hearing people very bluntly stating what you look like, I have become less surprised by it and think that I have become more straightforward myself.  Yes, I was fatter when I came.  No, the tan line on my forehead from my longer hair is not very attractive.  Yes, she is a little on the heavy side, yes he is quite dark.

This is probably fine as long as I’m here, but our culture in the US is so different, at times so on edge, that I can really get myself in trouble.  I realize this with groups here, especially when Kris and our parents came, because we spent so much time with them.  Occasionally I would say something that I would immediately have to justify, because I still remember that it’s rude where I come from.  Or, I would have to explain the cultural aspect, and how it is not the same here.  

Yesterday afternoon Ermin, Norlan’s brother, was over for dinner because he had been doing some work on the house and we invited him to stay.  Ermin is very dark for a Honduran, which we first noticed because his niece, sister-in-law and brother all said at some point that it makes him uglier and that it’s a good thing Alexandra and her sister take after their mother’s lighter complexion.  Like I said, at first this was pretty shocking, but as we started to understand more of their cultural values, and put aside our own political convictions, it got a little better.  

Yes, Ermin is dark-skinned.  Here, they value lighter skin, which is kind of sad because it seems to be, recently, based on commercialism from North America, and from the past, based on conquests from Europe.  However, Ermin does not seem to have suffered based on his skin color economically.  He has the same types of jobs as many men here in Guaimaca--he’s a go-to guy to fix or make anything, and people know he’s an honest, hard worker so people who know him, like the sisters, come to him for whatever they need done, as much as his lighter skinned colleagues, who call him “Negro” (black).  He also makes absolutely beautiful woodwork that he sells for the same prices anyone else could get, because it is superb work, anyone can see that.

In addition, Ermin does not seem to have suffered prejudicially from his darker skin, at least not extensively.  For example, yesterday afternoon Denis, Kenia, their daughter, and Kenia’s mother were also over and stayed for dinner as well.  Denis greeted him as Negro, and continued teasing him throughout the whole night by dropping that into conversation whenever he could.  This morning, he was calling Ermin because we were supposed to meet at our house to plan a party next week, but Ermin was late, and I noticed Ermin’s name in his phone was “Ermin negro.”  Although Denis used his nickname quite often, Ermin seemed quite used to it and never took offense to it, even referred to himself as darker a few times.  It’s what he is, why should he deny it?

Denis did tell one joke at dinner that I was really taken aback by and to which my initial thought was “He really just said that?!”  We were offering quesillo to everyone to go with our pasta dinner, but Ermin said he didn’t like quesillo, nor mantequilla.  I was pretty surprised, because these are two types of cheese very common in Honduras.  As I was trying to think of something to say in Spanish, Denis, with a big grin, said something like “It’s because they’re white and he’s black, he’s such a racist!”  Like I said, I was initially taken aback by his comment, but everyone was laughing, including Ermin.  

I started laughing too because it was pretty funny, and, watching everyone laughing, and how the conversation continued as normal after, I realized that this comment, although not PC where I’m from, was perfectly ok in our dining room in Honduras, eating dinner with a group of friends.  With the attention that they paid to Ermin’s stories, the level of respect they had for him as “un bien hombre” (a good man), and how much they were impressed with his woodwork, it was clear that, although they noticed that he was darker than them, they held no stigma or prejudice against him.  Ermin knew this as well, and felt very comfortable with all of us, even though we haven’t really spent that much time together prior to this.  When Cassie and I came back from church a little after 8:00, they were all still there, laughing and sharing a couple of beers that Ermin had gone out to buy, and stayed for another hour or so, telling stories and marveling at some of Ermin’s woodwork that he brought over to show us.

This is just one example of the differences in perceptions between our culture and ours.  In addition to last night and dinner with Ermin, we have had many experiences here that highlight our different perspectives.  However, one other experience that got me thinking was also with Denis, and was actually just this morning.  

Denis came over around 11:00 this morning to talk about the party next weekend, but we also started talking about the US, the states we were from, and the differences in some other states, like Arizona’s immigration laws.  My impression of the laws, of course my ignorant impression because I do an awful job of following the news, was that they have basically started to allow racial profiling of immigrants, and that several lawmakers have wanted to make them even more strict to keep Arizona “American.”  

First of all, I find that line of thought extremely ironically comic, as America was, is, and should continue to be, a country built on diversity and immigration.  It is something to be proud of, that people from all over the world recognized the values and ideals set forth in our Constitution, and decided to come to the US to be a part of that dream and try and make a better life for themselves and families.  It is something that should not stop now, or ever.  Last year on my HOPE trip, arguing with one of the donors to the Hogar del Niño, I said basically the same thing.  He wanted to block anyone who didn’t speak English from coming into the country, and I thought this was so wrong that I couldn’t keep quiet.

I just kind of assumed that all of the supporters of these laws, all of the sheriffs who jailed immigrants without papers and got them deported, all of the legislators who were making the laws, had the same convictions and values as the man I argued with in the DR.  I recognized that illegals are just that, illegals, and that they are breaking laws, but my impression of the response to them, the impression that trickled down to me up North, away from the frontier of the issue, was that they were usually, if not always, profiled because of their skin color or language.  Of course, some people are in fact snobbily defending their image of “America,” and I would bet that those who make really restrictive laws are either in this group, or at least paid by this group.

But, today talking with Dennis, I realized, that, as always, there’s a lot I don’t know, and that I don’t know how narrow my perspective is until it meets another.  Talking about the immigration laws with him, I half expected his reaction to be bitter or at least slightly frustrated.  However, he made some comments about how Latinos probably don’t obey the laws, and when I asked him what he meant, he elaborated about not waiting at red lights or stop signs, throwing trash in the street, and drinking and driving.  When he said that, I realized that, yes, those things are pretty serious infractions in the US, but that they are not well enforced, or even enforced at all, in many places here in Honduras, the Dominican, and according to stories I’ve heard, Nicaragua.  So, if the average Honduran were to go to Arizona, he or she might not be picked up by the police because of racial profiling, but because of any number of laws he or she may break, either out of ignorance or cultural differences.  

I haven’t really developed any good thoughts on all of this, other than I need to think about it more, and that the attitude here towards immigration to the US, from the people who have mentioned it, has been pretty interesting.  I haven’t gone out and interviewed people, but the conversations with friends have been valuable.  Anyway, it shows me a little about how little I know.

Vacation #2

The past week we had our second of three week-long vacations.  Originally, I was unsure about how I felt about going on vacation, because I had just returned here and was just starting to get back into the swing of things, and it seemed too soon to break the rhythm again.  However, the week ended up being a nice way to see more of Honduras and to balance out work and everything else that was stressful with some relaxing activities and sojourns.

We started the week traveling to San Pedro Sula with the sisters, and from there catching a bus to La Ceiba.  On that bus I sat next to a guy from Cleveland who had quit his career a few months ago to start traveling in Central America and had some interesting conversations with him about everything from healthcare to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Of course, we didn’t quite agree on everything, but it was just nice to have an intelligent conversation about something outside of school.  I have definitely enjoyed my time separated from the US and the problems/issues that consume our news and politics, but at some point it’s nice to be plugged into what’s going on, at least for a little bit.

In La Ceiba we took a taxi to Andrea’s house, a friend of MaryAnne Capelleri, who works at Stonehill.  MaryAnne was one of the people who interviewed me for this program last July, and one of the leaders of the HOPE group in March.  While she was here, she gave us Andrea’s contact information, who helps run an orphanage in Trujillo called “Finca del Niño.”  Before the vacation, we got in touch with Andrea to see if we could travel out there and check out the orphanage, which actually ended up working out really well for us.  We stayed at Andrea’s house Friday night and enjoyed her amazing hospitality, then on Saturday caught another bus to Trujillo, where we took a taxi out to the orphanage.  We stayed at the orphanage until Monday morning, and while we were there, we got to see a very different perspective on service.

The orphanage itself has about 35 kids and 19 volunteers on site.  There are also Honduran families who are hired to live in the houses of the children (separated by gender and age) to act as mothers/fathers/aunts for the kids and provide a stable family-style environment.  They also have a school at the orphanage, which is not only for the resident children, but also for the children of their neighbors.  

The set-up of the orphanage was interesting, because it seemed to try to do its best to provide a real-life environment to these children who have never had a stable, real-life environment to live in.  However, it also gave me a weird vibe because it most definitely was not real life.  I suppose it’s impossible to have an orphanage that functions in real life, and they’re doing the best they can.  However, while we were there, it seemed to be more like a summer camp than anything.  The orphanage is right on the beach, and the volunteer house (we didn’t really see inside the orphans’ homes, other than the initial kitchen area) seemed like a bunkhouse you would find at a Boy Scout camp.  The community of volunteers also seemed to be somewhat disconnected.  They have no real connection with the community outside of the orphanage, so everything was much more Westernized.  When you bring kids in to a community run almost exclusively by gringos who have very little contact with Honduran culture, the only culture the children are going to grow up with is that of the volunteers.

Besides the atmosphere at the orphanage, the thing that bugged me the most was that, although they commit for two years, they are given six weeks vacation each year, and the program pays for one trip back to the States.  Therefore, what most people end up doing is that they take a month off at some point and go back home for four weeks at a time.  To me, this effectively stops the service experience and restarts it again when they get back.  It was hard enough for me to readjust after just a week back in the States, so I can’t imagine what it would be like to be away from the service, community and Spanish for a whole month and then try to return right away to working.  In addition, we noticed that many volunteers look forward to their vacation like a necessary break from their work.  Essentially, they have a countdown to when they can escape the challenge, instead of dealing with it as it unfolds.  Right before we left, we had a conversation with Jacob, the volunteer coordinator, who said exactly the same thing, and who had a lot of questions for us about how we make our intentional community work, because he is looking for ways to bring his community closer and more in-tune with their work.

Overall, though, it was good to see the orphanage because it showed us a very different side of service.  They are doing amazing things for a fair amount of children who otherwise would be stuck in extremely impoverished conditions until they were crushed either physically or mentally.  In comparison though, it also made me happy that I ended up where I am now.  There are so many opportunities and options for service, and every day I feel like I have been blessed with this opportunity and the decision I made.

After we left the orphanage, we went to an eco-tourism park, where we did some zip-lining with a guy who ended up being a Honduran Congressman.  He was definitely an interesting character, and there’s a lot to tell about him, and our experiences with him, but I won’t go into that now, for the sake of saving some space.  He ended up driving us an hour or so from Trujillo to Tocoa, another small town where we tried to catch a bus back to La Ceiba.

Unfortunately, we missed the last bus and got taken advantage of by a taxi driver who just drove us down the street to where his buddies tried to convince us to go with them all the way back to Ceiba (charging six times more than the bus ticket).  So, I started walking down a side street to try and find a place where we could sit and look through our travel book for a cheap place to stay.  After a short while we found a little store with benches in front, and looked through our book.  It turns out, though, that Tocoa was not in the travel book, so we were out of luck with that one.  In desperation I turned to the women behind the counter and asked if she knew of any cheap hotels nearby.  She had no reason to be nice to us--we hadn’t even bought anything from her--but she really was trying to help us when her husband showed up.  When he arrived she told him what was going on, and he immediately started racking his brain for any information that may be useful to us.  Eventually he remembered a hotel nearby that could have cheap rooms within our budget, and he gave us directions.  

While the three of us were discussing what to do, he stood there, listening, and then offered to go with us to the hotel and show us where it was.  I was so thankful for his help, and could sense that was a good person, that I immediately accepted his offer.  I expected him to just walk us down to where we needed to make the last turn, but instead he walked around back and started up his truck, then drove us the whole way there.  We were really in a bad situation, not having the slightest clue where we were, and he and his wife really came through.  It was as if our guardian angels came down and were acting through this couple.

The only problem with the hotel is that it was that it was called the Hotel California, and that on the way through Trujillo a couple of days ago, we had passed the same hotel, and I made the bold claim that I would never, ever, stay in a hotel named “Hotel California.”  Then, there we were, Chris and Cassie laughing at me, underneath the large sign with red letters on a black background.  And, I’ve got to say, it was not exactly a lovely place.

The next morning, we stopped by the little shop and gave the man and his wife a thank you note because I was just so thankful for their help (yes, we made it out of the Hotel California).  Then, we caught a bus to La Ceiba, where we met up with volunteers from the orphanage who live in an apartment for the Phase II kids--those who have graduated from the orphanage school and decided to continue with high school.  After hanging out for a bit and eating lunch, we walked around Ceiba, spending time at the beach (where I stayed out of the loose sand to avoid the syringes and the dead dog I found there), walking through the market, and through some small shops where I found a book of poetry by a Honduran author (until this point I had been unable to find any type of original writing by Hondurans and was disappointed by the apparent intellectual void), which I will read and then take into school to use in my poetry workshops and leave in the school library.  

The next day, we took a short chicken bus ride out to El Pino, an aldea at the foot of Picot Bonito park, the largest reserve in Honduras.  By the time we got there, and hiked up the wrong path, there was no time to find a guide and do some serious hiking that day, so we walked back down to a place called Natural View, where we ended up staying the night.  It was a very cheap place where we rented our own cabaña, were able to use the pool, hammocks, and other amenities they had available, and were able to set up a guided hike for the next morning.  

That next morning, we hiked through the outskirts of Picot Bonito (most of it is off limits to any type of intrusion) with a guide, whom we had met the day before in his artesian shop on the road going towards Natural View.  He was a really cool guy, about our age, who knew a lot about the trail and even more about birds, which we saw a lot of.  He is also actively involved in recycling and methods to protect the environment, which is extremely unusual for a Honduran, so it was pretty refreshing to talk with him.  

The hike that day was beautiful, and I have great pictures, which I unfortunately probably won’t be able to share for another few months.  That afternoon, we headed out to Sambo Creek, a Garífuna village on the other side of La Ceiba.  The Garífuna are a group descended from the African slaves that the Spanish brought over, and have their own language, but many of them also speak Spanish and English.  At the mass on Sunday night there were several songs and prayers in Garífuna, which was really cool because it was really involved and energetic, including several dances.  It’s a very different aspect of Honduran culture than the one that we are used to out here in the middle of the country, far from either coast.  

Sambo Creek itself was also interesting.  We got to go swimming for a bit, saw the sun set behind the fishing canoes tied up on shore, and ate at a seafood place where I had a seafood soup that had king crab claw, lots of shrimp, conch, and the front half of a fish in a Garífuna broth.  It was very different, but very good.  We were talking with our waiter and hitting it off pretty well, and he was also pretty bored on a quiet Thursday night, so he secretly brought over shots of a traditional Garífuna drink for us to try.  The drink is supposed to be medicinal, but they add rum to it and get really drunk, so I’m not sure how medicinal it really is.  

I also felt like Sambo Creek was the least safe place we stayed in.  While I was down on the beach collecting shells for my class, a woman approached me and asked if I wanted to buy drugs.  I told her pretty firmly that no, I don’t want to buy drugs, but she explained anyway that what she sells is really good and that she will be at the discotec right next to our hotel if I changed my mind.  In the Garífuna villages there also seemed to be more signs of a gang presence, with gang signs and names tagged on walls of buildings.

Despite this, it was really cool to see a different part of Honduran culture.  At times, while walking around Sambo Creek, it felt like we weren’t in the same country we have been living in for the past five months.  Even a country like Honduras, which is much more homogeneous than the US, has many different faces if you look in the right places.  

The next morning we started as early as possible to travel back to Guaimaca in three buses, which took us a full twelve hours.  We arrived back here very tired, and pretty smelly, but in all, the vacation was enjoyable and a good opportunity to see a lot of Honduras that we normally wouldn’t have gotten a chance to, and that in reality, wasn’t planned.  Before we left, the only really definite plans we had were to go to the orphanage and Andrea’s house, so we were fortunate that it worked out so well.  I also enjoyed this trip more than our first one because it was simpler, explored more of the landscape and culture we hadn’t seen before, and had more variety.  But, in the end, it felt very good to return home to Guaimaca (and to have a bed to sleep on).

Rainy Season, Holidays, New Schedule

So, the two weeks I have been back now have been full of changes.  When I left, the rainy season was just starting, but when I came back it was in full swing.  The first night back I noticed the frog sounds coming from the puddles nearby, like the spring peepers back home, just ten times louder and probably venomous in some way.  

The next day I noticed the grass--long and green everywhere, where before it was just hard-packed dirt and burnt stubble.  Previously I had thought that flowers must just flower year round with the warm weather here, but found out recently that there are a lot more flowers that come out this time of year.  This also corresponds with the mangos ripening; our tree has at least a couple new ripe mangos every day and at least a hundred in total.  Over the weekend I made mango cobbler, which came out pretty well.  Not as well as the Dutch Oven Peach Cobbler on our camping trips, of course.

The downside to us now being in the rainy season is that it rains every day, sometimes multiple times a day.  The rain will cool things down a bit, but if it rains during the day the temperature goes back up again right after, when the clouds clear.  So, even if I do my laundry in the morning, it has been taking a lot longer to dry than it used to.  Also, events with the church have been canceled or changed because of the rain, and I have had several leaks in my room (mostly directly above my bed) and a leak in the living room.  This past Sunday I helped Norlan repair the leaks in his roof with tar, roofing tape and cement, and then we hopped over to my roof and fixed what looked like the problems.  We definitely missed something though, today I had a good sized puddle on my bed.  Tomorrow I’m going up by myself to try and fix the rest--pray that it doesn’t rain for a few hours after, and please don’t say “Break a leg!” because I probably will.

Yesterday in the States was obviously Memorial Day, which I am sorry I missed.  I have found that the times I most realize how much I miss family are the holidays that have had traditions associated with them.  For example, St. Patrick’s day was hard because I really missed the corned beef and hash, green food and soda bread that we used to make at home, and I really missed being home for Mother’s Day because of all of the traditions we had to thank Mommy (and because I was really sick and could hardly move).  Memorial Day, yesterday, was a day I missed for the parade we had in town, for the ceremony on the Green, and especially for the opportunity to honor all of the people I have known who served and to whom I owe so much.  Particularly this year I held memories of Grandpa close by, and also remembered Steve, as this was the fifth year.

For them, I really missed Memorial Day.

In Honduras, yesterday was their National Tree Day, which we celebrated a little bit yesterday and more today with a tree drawing contest, some special prayers, and a day at the farm today with presentations about the environment.  Usually only two classes go to the farm at a time, but today everyone came.  After the presentations, they split into groups to plant trees, clean up some areas, etc.  These new holidays are cool to learn about and participate in, but obviously don’t take the place of those that I have grown up with and that have helped form my identity.

When I returned two weeks ago, it was to an entirely new schedule and Trimester.  In place of the courses from Trimester One, I am now teaching Math and English to the seniors, English to the ninth graders, English to Andrea, three of the four gym classes (but I like to go to the fourth and play anyway), two poetry workshops, a Chemistry review, and Science lab at the farm on Tuesday.  We still go to all of the masses and services during the week with the girls, and supervise their daily activities.  So, I am just as busy, if not more busy, than the first Trimester, but I still thoroughly enjoy it.  Especially recently, I have needed to keep busy, and the change in the schedule has brought welcome challenges.  

My schedule has also changed so that I am now working in the health clinic Monday mornings.  Every Monday last Trimester I helped collect and organize the food that the students brought with them to the center, and although it was nice to greet and see the girls first thing every Monday, it was a little mindless.  Yesterday, however, was my first day in the clinic, where I spent my time taking patient histories.  I didn’t expect to be trusted with something as important as taking the histories (I am learning some interesting vocabulary), but there I was, in my own little section, asking patients questions and taking notes.  

Being in the classroom these past several months have definitely helped me develop a demeanor with the patients that I know I did not have before.  In comparison to my internship with a doctor and my volunteer time in an ER after sophomore year of college, I seem to have learned how to hold people’s attention and respect, thereby staying in control.  A few years ago, it was hard for me to get across what I wanted to convey or to get the information I wanted to hear, mostly because I would listen to the patients as they complained and empathize.  Now, I have a much better balance between empathy and business.  As far as I could tell, all of the patients I saw respected me enough to give the necessary information, and still felt comforted, which is a good thing, I think.

I still have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after this.  I don’t really want to think about it, because I am happy with my life here enjoy every day.  However, as I said recently in a reflection, going home for a short amount of time made me realize that I’m eventually going to have responsibilities to someone other than myself, and if only for that reason, I need to start thinking more about careers, stressful and confusing as it is.  Maybe with the new experiences this trimester I will receive some new insight.  Side note concerning this stuff, my students are convinced that I am going to become a priest.  I really don’t think so, but like I said, I have no idea right now...all I can do is pray for guidance.

Pictures

Check out my facebook page to find newly uploaded photo albums from the whole trip thus far.  I have had a good internet connection this weekend but I probably won't be able to put pics up like this again until I return for good.

Exam Week

4/5/11

Exam week.  Yesterday the girls took their Biology exams, today is Spanish, tomorrow Chemistry.  Yesterday’s exam went well, everyone passed and Sandra got a 97.  Tomorrow’s exam will be a joke because they can only answer, at most, 9 of the 24 questions because this year they switched the books’ information but when they made the test it was still from the old material.  Now, four questions pertain to our information, and there are five more that they could answer because of material that I taught them in Lab.  

The past week and a half with them has had its ups and downs.  Before Semana Santa, they were pretty unmotivated, didn’t participate as much as they used to, and weren’t doing their homework.  I thought they were just getting tired after a long trimester--I was too.  So, I expected them to come back from the break refreshed and more ready to go.  Instead, they were just as non-participative and hadn’t done any of the homework.  I was trying to talk with them and get a feel for what they thought needed the most review, but they were not saying anything, and they would not answer my questions, so I told them that I was trying to make things interactive, but if that’s not what they wanted, we would just do book exercises.  No response.  So we started with the book exercises.

The next day after lab I had a talk with them about how it felt like I had lost their respect, that they had been doing well in class, until recently, etc, and that class would start to be different in the second trimester, that they would be held more accountable for participation.  I didn’t feel like this talk did all that I wanted it to.  It definitely helped a little, but it didn’t reach them and make them return to participating well.  

So, the next day I talked with them more from the heart.  What I said to them will remain between us, but I talked to them about role models I have had, and what I expect and hope for with them.  This talk definitely reached them more, and they were almost instantly warmer.  Their participation improved greatly within the same day, and since then things have continued progressing.  They have been working very hard, preparing for their exams, and I am very proud of them.  

Other than my own students in class, things have been going very well with the other students outside of class.  They could tell that something was bothering me in the beginning of last week, which started to affect the way they interacted with me--because, heaven forbid, I should have a bad day.  Now, however, I am interacting well with each grade, and I am looking forward to this next semester when I might have different grades in class, or at least in the poetry club that I will have time to do every week.

7/5/11

Well, I lied.  Immediately after writing that the Chemistry test would be a joke, I saw Sr. Theresa and she told me that we had just received special permission from IHER to write our own Chemistry test.  Which means: "Mateo, write a Chemistry final exam in a couple of hours and tell your girls what to study so that they can study for one day and take the test tomorrow."

I started out figuring out what types of problems I would ask on the test, then wrote a study guide out for them so they could start studying while I was writing the test.  For the next three or so hours until lunch I was in furious test-writing mode and just finished before lunch.  It used some multiple choice questions similar to those that are on the stupid IHER tests, but that were better worded and at least had the correct spelling and answer choices, and then the second half of the test was fill-in the blanks and diagrams/drawings of molecules for them to name, label or draw.  I always have worked best under pressure, and I think the test came out pretty well.

After lunch, I reviewed with the girls whenever there was free time to do so, even staying late that night with two of them who needed extra help, but as I was going home it was with a sense of unease in my stomach.  Not only did we have to cover most of the book in the last two weeks because of all the review I had to do in the beginning, not only is all of this material Organic Chemistry, which is hard for even college students, any type of Chem is the hardest and most dreaded class for every girl here.  Add to that the fact that I had shot myself (and them) in the foot and told them to not worry about the Chemistry exam because it would be a lot of material from the old book that I would end up giving them the answers to, and finally the fact they did not have any direction for their studies until about 10 am the day before.  

The next day, Thursday, we reviewed a couple of things first thing in the morning, and then they took the test.  Most of them passed, only three of them have to take the retest (for grades less than 60%).  For the ones who did pass, the average was a 70%, which I was pretty happy with because, despite all of the factors I already mentioned, this is a huge improvement over the quizzes and tests throughout the year.  I was even ok with those who didn’t pass, because, for the most part, their grades were improvements over their test or quiz grades throughout the year.  I told them to not beat themselves up too much over it because, considering all of the factors laid out against them, they ended up understanding enough of the material that, when they study more and take the retest, they will have the opportunity to really improve their final grade.  I’m almost positive that the first test score will go away as if it never happened.  Also, these final exams are worth 60% of their final grade and their work in the classroom is only 40% (not my choice, but it’s adapted for the long-distance learning format of IHER), so if they do well on this next exam their final grades have the potential to be very high.Therefore, one of my tasks this weekend will be to make the retest.  I will have to make it similar to the first one, but different enough for it to be a different test for them.  

Last week we also received next Trimester’s schedules.  I will be teaching Math, English and a continuation of Chemistry and Biology with the seniors, English to Tercero Ciclo (9th grade), two-three poetry workshops a week, three physical education classes again, I’m still going to the farm Tuesday mornings, and I will be working in the health clinic every Monday from 8-12:30.  This trimester will be very different, and very demanding.  I am nervous about the English classes--it’s hard enough to teach our grammar rules to native speakers.  I am looking forward to the change though, there will be many new experiences and challenges.