There's No Place Like Home

Traveling—just the mention of the word turns my stomach into a Cat’s Cradle game.  My trip from Mexico to the US proved to be more anxiety inducing than others, but I planned on that being the case.  Let me back up and start from the beginning: Friday.

In order to get to the airport in Mexico City for my 6:50 am flight Saturday morning, I needed to get a taxi to take me to the bus station for my 1:00 am bus to Mexico City.  My Spanish hasn’t improved much and I was nervous about having to call and schedule a taxi, but Lulu offered to call for me and put me on the schedule to be picked up at 12:30 am—it only takes about 10-15 minutes to get to the station.  Well 12:30 am rolls around and (TIM) no taxi.  I waited for about 8 minutes and then walked up to the front gate of my apartment to see if I could flag one down.  An unmarked car stopped with a man and woman and they asked if I needed a taxi… uh, Stranger Danger!!!  Luckily a REAL taxi pulled up next and I jumped in that one.  The driver asked me a bunch of questions in Spanish, and I did my best to respond.  Somewhere around 12:50 am he asked when my bus was leaving and I told him 1:00 am.  He looked at me in the rearview mirror and then stepped on the gas pedal—we weren’t on the main highway to the terminal but on some back roads.  He weaved in and out of traffic and sped over topes (speed bumps).  He kept looking back and saying “A la una… ay…” and drove faster.  Despite TIM (This Is Mexico), there is also PTL (Praise The Lord) in this first leg of the journey because I managed to make it ON the bus by 1:00 am!  I was the very last person and received many glares, but I made it.

Second leg… I made it to the right terminal, checked my bag (more to come on that later), and made it through security okay.  (Just a note to those of you flying out of Mexico in the near future: you do not have to take your shoes off and if you do, they look at you funny and tell you to put them back on.)  So I wandered around looking for Immigration and found it because there was a HUGE line of people and no one at either of the two desks!  Typical Mexican efficiency… luckily I arrived at the airport in plenty of time to be able to wait an hour in line and still make my flight.  Things I learned so far in the trip: 1) When ordering a taxi, give an hour of cushion instead of a half hour; 2) again I am confirmed in my decision to leave Mexico after this year; and 3) Expecting the worst but relying on God’s Sovereignty is a good combination.

Third leg… San Francisco.  I survived Immigration only to learn that I am expected to get my luggage from baggage claim and Recheck it too late.  I didn’t pick up on the clues of everyone around me getting their bags and grabbing luggage carts… They wouldn’t let me go back the 20 feet to get my bag and told me that I just needed to go to my gate and hope the bag makes it to my final destination—yeah right!  After going through security AGAIN, I grabbed a Subway sandwich and settled in at my gate.  At least I was back in a country I could understand and speak the language.

Fourth leg… SEATAC.  As expected, my luggage did not make it to Seattle.  I reported my lost bag to a United representative who was very kind and humorous.  He pointed out that the first problem is that my bag was incorrectly tagged—I am not Benito.  My bag’s final destination, according to the incorrect tag, was San Francisco.  After a quick email to the people in San Francisco, I was told my bag would be returned within a couple of days.  Luckily I was picking up my parents from SEATAC Monday and I could pick it up then.  Upon opening my bag, I found a note that said they found and destroyed three Kinder Eggs because they are illegal in the US, but they managed to leave behind one in my bag…

Things I learned from this trip: 1) When ordering a taxi, give an hour of cushion instead of a half hour; 2) again I am confirmed in my decision to leave Mexico after this year; 3) I’ll always double check my luggage tags; and 4) Expecting the worst but relying on God’s Sovereignty is a good combination.

It’s good to be home.

Frisbee, Packages, and Home

What do you get when you mix an unpracticed team, a Frisbee tournament near Mexico City, and a catchy cheer?  The Best Team Spirit Award, of course!  This past weekend I traveled to Zumpango (just north of Mexico City) to compete against eight other teams in Ultimate Frisbee.  Unfortunately, our team never actually practiced all together and it showed on the field.  Out of the five games we played, we lost every single one.  Although expected, it was a bit sad.  I played Ultimate on an intermural team in college, but the level at this competition was way higher.  I felt like I had no idea what I was doing.  A few of the other girls did a good job of trying to explain to me what I should be doing while guarding and playing different positions.  Sometimes it was difficult to understand what they were telling me since it was mostly in Spanish, but I certainly learned a lot.  Things I learned: I’m WAY out of shape; I miss playing on a team; I really need to work on my flick; “venga” and “vamos” are great words to shout in a game; and my body doesn’t like the extreme temperature changes here in central Mexico—30* at night and mid 70s during the day makes my body freak out and colds worse!  Yet another reason Mexico isn’t quite the right fit for me…  BUT even though we didn’t win any games, my team won the Best Team Spirit award (which looks identical to the first place medals…just sayin’)!  One of the girls, Zus (“z” is pronounced the same as “s” in Spanish) came up with a fun and catchy cheer that we sang as often as possible; it was so catchy that some of the teams we played sang it to us whenever they saw us, or cheered us on in other games!

Tuesday night was the JFK staff party.  Everyone from the school is invited to attend from teachers to office staff to maintenance staff.  They served us a four course meal, had an open bar (not too exciting for me, but others took advantage of the opportunity), raffled off prizes, and had a DJ pumping out dance tunes.  One of the Spanish teachers dragged me out on the dance floor for a while and it was fun to be silly with the other staff members.  I line danced to “Achy Breaky Heart” in Spanish, and belted it out during “Man, I Feel Like A Woman”.  It was an experience for sure!

After the party, I was able to finally dive into the two “Kar-packages” I received that day: one from my sister Jeni loaded with chocolates and other goodies I can’t find here in Mexico, and the other one was from the teachers I worked with at MRMS.  As I explored the many treasures and notes, I bawled my eyes out.  I was, and still am, overwhelmed by how much people care for me and love me even though I’m thousands of miles away!  I can’t tell you what it means to me to know I’m not forgotten.  Everything is so new and different in my life right now that I feel lost most of the time and unknown.  Many of you reminded me that is not the case.  I am so blessed by family and friends, but I had lost sight of this until now.  It’s easy to become solely focused on all the problems in life and become blind to the good, and there is so much good!

Saturday morning I board a flight to Seattle to spend Christmas Break with my family, and I can’t wait!  Top things I’m looking forward to:  long and hot showers, baking/cooking in a fully stocked kitchen, decorating the house before my parents get home, being surrounded by a language I know, church and worship, playing my guitar and singing, seeing all of my family, sleeping, playing Wii, and just all of the “knowns” of home (not necessarily in that order).

Decisions and Conclusions

For those of you worried that I have fallen off the edge of the earth, I have good news: the world is round, and I’m still on it!

As always, life has been a whirlwind.  Since my last post about Thanksgiving in Puerto Vallarta I have had a few melt-downs, attended a very festive Christmas party with many of the international teachers, and chowed down on some delicious Costco pizza.

Last week I made the decision not to return to JFK for next school year.  There are many factors that played into this decision, but it boils down to not being the right fit.  God has been affirming me in this decision in the midst of my wavering and freaking out about what I’ll do next year and thinking I’m a failure.  After chats with my mom in Kenya, and friends in the States, I’ve had time to process this verdict, and here’s what I’ve concluded:

1) I am not a failure for choosing to leave next year; there are too many aspects about Mexico and JFK that I disagree with, and I truly do not think I can be happy or effective here.  At my old school I felt like I was contributing, I was surrounded by supportive staff members that no only helped me at school, but also outside—they were my extended family.  Here I don’t feel like I’m making a difference at all, and the language barrier is too much for me to overcome at this point.  Teaching is hard enough without the added challenges of not fitting in within school and without. 

2) It’s ok if I don’t know what I’m going to do next year.  God has lead the way and provided for my every need for the past 27+ years; He’s not going to abandon me now!

3) I know more about what I want from my place of employment.  Family (even if not blood-related) is the most important factor, along with collaboration with peers.  I am so relationship motivated that I cannot subsist in an environment without that.  It is also important to be near a church that I can understand and feel a part of—if my employment does not allow that, it’s not worth it.

4) Friends and family are SO important, even if they are thousands of miles away.  I could never have made it this far without the support and encouragement of everyone in the Springs, Anacortes, and wherever else you may be in the world.  And I cannot make it the remaining six months without you, so keep it up!

5) Having something to look forward too (like walking to Costco for pizza, playing in an ultimate Frisbee tournament in Mexico City, or going home for Christmas) helps encourage me to keep moving ahead and not give up.

It’s been a rough school year so far, and I know there are more difficulties ahead, but I’m learning a lot.  God knows what He’s doing—I may not like it, but it’s for my best.

Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving

Thursday night seven of us loaded onto a bus bound for Puerto Vallarta.  I was hoping to purchase my bus ticket to the airport in Mexico City before leaving the bus terminal, but I realized that I had lost my debit card somewhere between Wednesday afternoon and then.  Luckily I had taken out enough cash to get me through the weekend, and I tried not to worry about the lost card—God is still Sovereign even in our clumsiness!  Our bus left around 8:15 pm and we were given a packaged sandwich, a granola bar, a pop or juice and a bottle of water before we boarded.  All of us sat near each other and were giggly for the first 30 minutes of the trip.  The first movie that they showed was “Father of the Bride” in English with English subtitles—weird.  After that they showed three more movies, all dubbed in Spanish.  Most of the girls slept on and off, but I didn’t sleep well at all.  The seats seem like they would be really comfortable: they were wider than regular bus seats and reclined at almost a 140* angle, and there were little footrests that kind of propped your feet up.  I found that the footrest just made my feet fall asleep, and I usually sleep on my side or stomach.  At the end of the almost 10 hour bus ride, I think I slept a collective two hours.  We made it to our hotel around 6:15am and were able to check into the Holiday Inn early and head down to the beach to watch the sunrise.  Four of the girls were able to get into their room right away, but our keys didn’t work.  It turned out it wasn’t our fault; one of the hotel employees tried four or five different times with his little machine and then finally gave us another room at the end of the hall.  After breakfast we laid on the beach all day, soaking in the sun, dipping in the pool, and fending off vendors. 

There are few things more calming than the sound of gentle waves lapping upon the shore.  The problem with Puerto Vallarta is that the sound is constantly being interrupted by hawkers peddling their wares.  Most of the beach is government property except for the roped off areas right in front of the hotels, and people are allowed to sell whatever as long as they are wearing all white.  “Hola, you want hat? Practically free…which one you want…what you want today…Hey beautiful womans, what you like…you want necklace? One peso…off”  The worst by far is when they try to guilt-tip you into buying something.  “You no have money, I no have money; you need buy so I feed family.”  And as soon as you step foot on that beach, regardless of skin or hair color, the barrage begins and does not relent until sunset.  At first I was intrigued, but after a few hours it was just annoying.  I know they are just doing their job, but by the second day I couldn’t even politely say no; I just ignored them.

Friday evening Melanie, Lauren and I went for a horse ride on the beach at sunset.  I have never ridden a horse before and I’ve heard many different reactions to riding horses.  Some people love it and want to own their own or already do, and others are terrified.  I figured that I would just go into it with an open mind and see what happened and just hope I didn’t fall off!  The three horses that were waiting for us were definitely older and seemed pretty docile, and two of them were only slightly larger than ponies.  Unfortunately, I don’t remember the name of my horse, but I really enjoyed the ride.  The wooden saddle wasn’t very comfortable, especially when we galloped a bit, but I would love to ride a horse again.  Our guide walked along beside us for a while until we came to a small stream.  He told us to cross and ride down to the marina and come back.  So I said a silent prayer, leaned back as the horse descended the small bank, leaned forward as he scrambled up the other side and waited for my friends.  We had fun working our way down the beach, seeing people’s reactions to us, and taking pictures of the sunset and each other.  It was a fun adventure.

I treated Saturday pretty much the same as Friday except I wore a t-shirt to keep from burning my chest and back more and without the horse ride.  We met three firefighters from Edmonton, Alberta and played volleyball with them in the afternoon.  Then Melanie, Abby and I scrambled to shower, change, pack and head downtown to dinner before having to catch the 9:00pm bus back to Queretaro.  The bus ride back was a bit worse for me.  I got to sit next to strangers, and the bus only showed one and a half movies—the half was in English… Every time I tried to read I got car sick, and the guy who sat next to me kept invading my seat.  Finally when his head hit my shoulder I sat bolt upright and flicked the seat up so it hit him in the face!  I think I only slept about an hour collectively on the nine hour ride back.  When we pulled into the terminal, Melanie took care of getting us a cab and even paid for my bus ticket to the airport since I still hadn’t found my debit card—which was good because I was NOT coherent due to lack of sleep and an oncoming cold, and trying to think and talk in Spanish was not working for me, just ask Melanie! :) 

Stepping outside we were greeted with a cold wind and temperatures in the low 40s (yes, I’m still working in Fahrenheit…).   The taxi ride took a long time to get home because they had a major street closed for some kind of running event or something, but eventually we got to Melanie’s and then I walked home from there.  After rummaging through my bags again in search of my lost debit card, I took a long, hot shower, popped a few nighttime cold pills and spent the rest of the day slipping in and out of consciousness.

Monday, of course, came way too soon.  The school day went well.  Cristi from HR called and cancelled my debit card and found out that no one had used the card since my last transaction!  DEBTET!  After school Danielle (my AP) drove me to the bank, waited in all of the lines, and helped me get a new card.  Then she even drove me home!  What a gal! 

In summary, while I missed my family for Thanksgiving, I certainly had an adventure and I’m thankful for the opportunity!

Words from Teachers

It’s amazing how far a kind word goes.  After struggling with high flying students and getting discouraged over my lack of success with them, I decided to email the parents of my really good kiddos.  I can think of few things that make me feel better than saying nice things about other people.  I’m only half way through my list of kiddos, but I’ve received many emails back from parents telling me how much they appreciate a nice note instead of a nasty gram.  One of the parents went as far as to email my principal to tell her how much she appreciated my note home!  Despite words of affirmation being my love language, I often forget just how important positive words are to others.    

As an educator especially, it is so important for me to be pouring into my students and encouraging them to grow.  Proverbs 15:4 says, “Gentle words are a tree of life; a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.”  Have I been speaking gentle words of encouragement to all of my students?  It’s easy to be nice to the kids who always follow directions, but have I been speaking gentle words to my irksome students?  I need to find simple ways to encourage my behavior problem kids, not only to keep from crushing their spirit, but also for my sanity!   

I remember back to comments teachers said to me in school.  In high school, teachers like Ms. King and Mr. Burnett saw something in me past just the frumpy mess, and encouraged me.  So much of who I have become is due to the kind words of teachers.  My English teacher, Ms. King, took a previously homeschooled student who had never written a paper in her life and helped me see that I could be successful.  Not only did she express kind words in class, she made an effort to come to my choir concerts and brag to my parents how wonderful I was in and out of class.  Mr. Burnett, my drama and stage tech teacher praised me for the bold choices I made in monologues and my willingness to learn in everything lighting and sound.  My passion and talent for music was spurned on by all of the choir teachers because they told me I have a talented voice and they gave me constructive criticism on how to become even better.  In college my favorite professors saw talents and told me what they saw.  It’s these people (plus countless others) who took the time to pour words of affirmation into me that have shaped who I am today.  Will I follow in their footsteps with my students?  I sure hope so. 

Dribble on Worship

Worship is more than just melodic phrases and passionate riffs—it is a lifestyle.  When I am cradling my guitar and letting my voice resound, I know I am surrendering my all in worship and I do not have to think about it.  In many ways, music is my love language.  It’s easy for me.  If worship is a lifestyle, am I experiencing the same reckless abandon in my work and relationships as in my music?  This is the part I struggle with.  Do my words and actions outside my music reflect a “reverent devotion and allegiance pledged to God” (NLT Study Bible dictionary)?  I wish I could say my life exudes the characteristics above, but sadly I replace “God” with other objectives: money, comfort, entertainment, recognition.  If only living a life of worship was as simple as the music…  My focus for the remainder of this semester is to strive for the fulfillment of this idea with God.

Lulu

Tonight I want to tell you about Lulu.  Like so many schools, JFK could not subsist without her.  Not only is she the MS school secretary, she is like a second mom to many of the teachers and students in the building.  Lulu is a warm, squat, woman in her early 50s with short-cropped hair that she dyes various colors depending on the season and her mood; she wears bright clothes with tasteful patterns, and her glasses have a hint of red around the rims.  She desires to be an elementary teacher some day but worries she may not.  You see, here in Mexico there is a mandatory retirement age of 65 years old.  12 years stand between Lulu and accomplishing her dream.  Her husband does not earn a high enough income for Lulu to attend education classes full time without working, and JFK is one of the best employment opportunities in the area, so she attends classes a few times a week, works full time at the school, and volunteers in a classroom on Saturdays.  I don’t know how she does it because her job at school would be enough to make me retire early.  In the midst of constant interruption from students, staff, phone calls, and her boss, she somehow manages to accomplish all of her tasks and still pour into the people around her in Spanish or English.  I can spend a whole period just conversing with her about any topic, and I always feel like that was time well spent.  I do not know what the future holds for Lulu, but I trust God with her and pray she will have a classroom of her own before time runs out. 

Homeless

It’s amazing what a paper-trail can do.  Since Tuesday of last week, I have been without running water in my apartment because the water company capped the wrong tenant’s pipes.  After going through the appropriate channels to no avail, I wrote a formal letter of complaint and emailed it to the General Director of my school.  Within 30 minutes I had a reply from her, and miraculously I have water again.  No, the water company has not fixed its error, but the maintenance staff at my school managed rig my piping to feed off of a huge water container above my building, which they somehow managed to fill.   

The people here in Mexico are masters at making things work.  Everywhere you look you will find traces of patch-jobs and ingenuity that would make even Red Green marvel.  Most things here in Mexico are second-hand; just because you have gotten your use out of something doesn’t mean it’s done.  Everything from clothes to vehicles to electronics will see as many lives as a cat is thought to possess. 

Now I’ve always been resourceful (just ask my parents), and that has come in handy here.  The welcome-crate that contained food to get me started when I first arrived is my clothes basket; empty bottles and plastic containers become places to store odds and ends; pillowcases become carrying bags to tote my laundry to the lavandería; a gift bag doubled as a lunch bag for a while; my plastic tub doubles as a coffee table and storage; the list goes on.  When you have little to work with, you are forced to problem-solve and invent solutions with what’s readily available.  I understand this concept as this is how I was raised, and in many ways this makes me feel at home.  But I don’t think I will ever fully feel at home here.

Part of that is because Mexico is so far removed from my comfort zone, but the other part is I’ve come to realize (again) that this world is not my home.  It’s ok to be uncomfortable because it forces me to keep going and try new things.  I would much rather be back in Colorado Springs, sharing a meal with a good friend at Panera Bread, or watching TV with my parents because those things are known.  I don’t think I’m meant to live that kind of life right now.  I feel like the fictional characters that I read about who reach a turning point in their lives in which they can never go back to how things were.  There is sadness in that thought, but I am also encouraged because I feel like there is so much more waiting for me. 

I do not know what my future holds, but I’m excited to see how it unfolds… running water or not! 

I want my mommy!

Some days are “mommy days”, when all you want to do is be hugged by your mom and told everything will be ok.  Unfortunately, the older you get the less those days are accessible, especially when you’re in Mexico and your mommy is in Kenya. 

Let me take a moment to tell you about my mommy (and daddy too).  My parents have decided, at the ripe age of 60+ (if I told you exact years, my mom might kill me…), to pour out their lives for an orphanage in Kenya.  Not only do they devote much of their time and energy gathering money, children’s clothes and other supplies to ship to Kenya, they actually travel to the children’s home to physically love on the kids and staff.  They get to witness first-hand the healing and power of God in the lives of 106 kids (and counting—that’s right Duggers family, you ain’t got nothin’ on this “family”!).  The joys and heartaches that my parents have experienced with this place would overwhelm many to inaction, yet they continue to give their all to help.  Currently, my parents have embarked on a two month endeavor to give the live-in caretakers some time off to visit family and friends back in the US.  With the help of another couple, they are in charge of 106 kids and a slough of staff, including food, bookkeeping, and trips to the health clinic with sick kids.  There are very few people in this world that would be willing to give up their time and money to help kids half-way around the world, let alone people who should be enjoying a selfish retirement.  I am so proud of my parents’ willingness to follow God’s calling in their lives and to endure so many hardships in the process.  If you think about it, please pray for them and the children’s home, and if you want to find out more information about what they are doing, check out this website: http://www.rehemainstep.com/

Moses in Mexico?

This past week I’ve been reading in the book of Exodus.  In many ways I identify with the characters and events, not because I view my life in Mexico like the Israelites’ lives in Egypt, but because I see myself in Moses especially.  I find myself wondering what kinds of blessings eluded Moses because he felt incapable of accomplishing the task God laid before him and told God “No”.  Did Moses ever regret asking God to send someone else and see that God chose Aaron to be His voice?  I also marvel in the fact that God saw something in Moses that He wanted to use and did not let Moses off the hook completely.  Aaron would speak, but Moses was still in charge.  If Moses and I were to meet, I think we would have a lot in common.  Ever since my emotional breakdown I’ve been thinking about what I’ve possibly missed out on.  What fun has escaped me and what opportunities to be a conduit of God’s Grace have I missed because of my attitude and telling God “No”?  At the same time I see that God refuses to let me off the hook.  I may not be doing all that was envisioned for me to complete, but God has brought me to Mexico and I’m here until the first part of July.  Like Moses, I’m timid and unsure that God has chosen the right person for this task.  I have days when I feel like no one listens to me, not my students, not my administration, not my peers.  But I think about when God commanded Moses to lead His people out of Egypt, it wasn’t conditional upon how people reacted to Moses.  In fact, God hardened Pharaoh’s heart and didn’t allow him to listen to Moses.  Right now I feel like God has given me a seemingly insurmountable task—of which I’m not even sure, but I know that I am not responsible for the reactions and responses of others, only my own.  I cannot control all of the obstacles that may cross my path, but I can choose how I respond to them.  Despite my inefficiencies, God has chosen me for this task and I must do the best I can.

Life continues!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted and I have much to write about!  Over the past two weeks I have obtained my working Visa, visited a winery and small market, and started accumulating supplies for my Halloween costume.

Last Wednesday I left school with a few other teachers and Maribel from HR to pick up my working Visa.  I had heard from other teachers that you have to wait for hours before, but I was just excited not to have to teach my last class of the day.  The way the immigration office works here in Queretaro is that they open the doors for a few hours in the late morning/early afternoon for people to come line up for service.  You’re given a number and then you wait until they call you up—similar to the DMV in the States.  If you do not show up at the open doors during those hours, you miss out and have to come back later.  My group arrived around 12:45 and we were the last group they admitted.  To pass the two hours until my number was called, I read my Kindle, purposely ignoring the papers waiting to be graded in my bag.  I figured if I had to wait then my papers did too :)!  In the midst of my reading I was able to converse with some of the other teachers about school, Spanish lessons, and the books we were reading.  When my number was called, I had the pleasure of working with a very upbeat employee which surprised me.  I signed a bunch of papers, gave my thumbprints, and then had to write my name in their book because for some reason it was not written in there.  The guy smiled and told me I didn’t exist.  I chuckled while mouthing urgent prayers to God that this wouldn’t lead to anything serious.  It turned out not to be a big deal, and a moment later I was handed my freshly laminated FM3 card.  While I was still enjoying the warmth of my legality, Maribel told me she had to take it to finish my paperwork and promised to give it back next week.

Friday after school I went with a couple of girls to purchase fabric for my costume.  I’ve decided to dress as a ham hock like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird.  No, I do not expect many teachers or students to understand my costume, but I will enjoy the literary nature of it!  I still need to go to Home Depot to get some chicken-wire or something for the internal structure.  I hope it will turn out how I’m envisioning it and not look like a piece of poop…

Saturday morning I met some girls at 10am to drive to Tequisquiapan to visit a winery called Freixenet.  I’m not a big wine fan, but I wanted to socialize and see more of Mexico.  When we arrived, we split a bottle of sparkling wine and nibbled some of the Spanish cuisine while we waited for the rest of our group to join us.  The perfect music match for wine is of course, Jazz.  What I found interesting is that the “Jazz” music they played at Freixenet was pop music that was “jazzed” up.  Some of the songs were ok, but the Coldplay song was a little much for me.   After wine we participated in a tour of the winery which was all in Spanish.  Kerrie offered to translate, but Melanie and I were having way to much fun creating out own tour dialogue.  Some of the finer points included the room for checking the bottles for mice, the percentage of people who made it out of the wine cellars alive, and the proper attire for being in a winery.  I don’t know about everyone else, but I know Melanie and I had a great time!  Then we loaded back in the car to head to the market in Tequis (much easier to say than the whole name of the town).  Jenika was really looking forward to the pottery that was supposed to be sold there, but as we were walking in Melanie told her that she was thinking of the market in San Miguel de Allende.  Nevertheless, we enjoyed wandering around the market talking about Don Quixote art.  After a little nap, we went to La Encrucijada (the Rock House mentioned in a previous blog) and rocked out until a little after 2am.  The rest Sunday I spent sleeping and reading, further ignoring my grading and studying for my Spanish quiz this coming Thursday.

The latest on my computer is that the Dell people will be working on my computer for the next 5-10 business days—I wonder if those are Mexican business days… TIM!  I am encouraged that my computer is being worked on, but I’m prepared for them not being able to fix it.  We’ll see what happens!

Thanks for your prayers and encouraging letters—they are helping!  Keep ‘em coming, and if you think about it, say a prayer for my folks in Kenya.

Moving Forward

I have finished the book The Dream Giver, and I am left to ponder some choices.  You see, I can choose to stop moving forward and focus on my frustrations and struggles, or I can choose to push forward and discover God’s plans for my life.  “The bottom line of every test in the WasteLand is this: When God seems absent and everything is going wrong, will you still trust God enough to patiently allow Him to prepare you for what’s ahead?” (The Dream Giver).  Lately my answer has been no, I don’t trust what God is doing (especially now since my laptop is not working).  Instead of looking ahead and following God’s leading, I have been facing the direction I came from, wondering why I left in the first place.  I empathize with the Israelites when they were led into the desert.  They didn’t understand what God had waiting for them if only they would have trusted and followed Him sooner.  George Mueller once said, “Our heavenly Father never takes anything from His children unless He means to give them something better,” but we have to cross a desert sometimes to receive that “something better”.  I admit I’m short-sighted; I cannot glimpse nor imagine what God has in-store for me.  The question I am facing right now is, how long will I stay in the desert?  I can choose to stay here for a long time and wallow in self-pity, or I can choose to trust God and move forward.  One thing I know for certain is that I DO NOT want to stay where I am.  And while I’d like to pin all of my frustrations on my job and being in a foreign country, I know that the real problem resides inside of me.  I can’t give up; I have to move forward.

Overestimating

Estimating is not a gift I possess.  Overestimating and underestimating, on the other hand, seem to be my forte.  Whether it’s my appetite at dinner, my judgment of abilities, or my understanding of situations, I end up miscalculating somehow.  Perhaps this is a result of my indifference for everything mathematical and my affinity for everything Right-Brained.  Regardless of the origin of this insufficiency, it continues to plague my life.

For the past month I have been teaching my students about figurative language and poetry.  The summative assessment was an analysis of a poem we had previously discussed in class.  Students were asked to identify figurative language, imagery, mood and tone, to summarize the poem in their own words, and to explain briefly the main idea of the poem—all things we’ve been practicing in class.  On top of that, I showed the students yesterday how the final assessment would work and modeled how to answer the 10 questions.  Today I gave the assessment.  I learned three things: 1) My students do not listen to or follow directions, regardless in what form they are delivered, 2)  My students have no idea how to think on their own or problem solve, and 3) I have no idea how to teach them.  I can honestly say that today was one of the most frustrating days I’ve had so far at school.  Have I overestimated their ability?  Have I overestimated my ability as a teacher?  Listening to the questions and seeing the frustrated and confused looks from my students almost pushed me over the edge today.  There is a disconnect somewhere between what I am teaching and what my students are learning, and I don’t know how much of it is my inefficiency at teaching this group and how much of it is due to their laissez-faire attitude towards learning.  I understand that subject content is not a priority for most adolescents, but I’ve never struggled so hard for attention in my classroom since my first year of teaching.  I’m not saying I’m a bad teacher, but I have no idea how to teach rich, ESL students who function between a 2nd and 5^th grade level in English.  Neither my education classes nor my teaching experiences have prepared me for this position—I have underestimated the difficulty of this job.  If I wanted to find a job that would completely destroy my passion for teaching, this is it.  And what kills me is that I genuinely like my students and the people I work with.

On a completely different note…

About twice a month I make a trek to the grocery store with my backpack to stock up on food.  I am too cheap to pay for a taxi to drive me 1.3 km to my house with all of my bags, so I load them in my backpack.  This causes many weird looks during my trip.  The apartment guards just stare at me and laugh when they see me with my overstuffed backpack.  People in cars and on the street do double-takes to figure out what I’m doing.  It’s weird and some work, but I save myself $35 (pesos) every time I use my backpack!

Disruption

Friday I received a package from home with some very important essentials (I have ranked them in order of most important to least important): Swedish fish, Hershey’s Hugs, winter coat, t-shirt and camisole, lunch bag, Crystal Light packets, inhaler.  All of these items were crammed in a medium USPS flat-rate box.  I was completely blown away with how much my mom shoved in that box!  I was also amazed that the box arrived intact without any issues!  The mail here in Mexico is sketchy at best, and after hearing horror stories about boxes being lost and held by customs agents in Mexico City, I didn’t think the box would ever arrive.  I now feel ready to face the week, Winter, and running!  Thanks mom!

In the last blog I mentioned that I’m reading the book The Dream Giver: Following Your God-Given Destiny by Bruce Wilkinson.  I’ve finished the parable portion (the first fourth of the book), and instead of being encouraged, I find myself a bit disheartened.  The main character, Ordinary, meets many challenges and struggles in pursuit of his Dream.  He eventually comes to the city in which he is to accomplish his Dream.  After a little while, the Dream Giver tells Ordinary that he needs to move on and pursue his dream in a new place.  Like Ordinary, I felt a stirring in my comfortable life in Colorado Springs which led me to Mexico.  And now that I’m here, I just want to be back in the land of the familiar.  The thought that as soon as I’m comfortable I will have to move again is daunting and unwelcome.  Is this what my life is going to be like?  Am I destined to live a life of discomfort and constant disruption?  This is not a happy thought, and one that leads me to ask, “Lord, what are you doing in my life?”  Now of course I still of 3/4 of the book to go, so maybe I’ll find some encouragement yet, but I’m not holding out for it.  My parents’ pastor told me he would be praying that God would disrupt my life while in Mexico, and I can say without hesitation that his prayer is being answered!  God is working on my heart and my mind; I am so far outside of my comfort zone that I don’t even know where to look to catch a glimpse of it.  In a way I’m pretty excited, but mostly I’m just terrified.

I’ll let you know how the rest of the book goes.

Beautiful Chrysalis?

Things rarely turn out the way I plan them.  You would think I have learned this lesson by now, and I would stop obsessing about my own plans.  Looking back at my life up until now, I can see that God has given me what I needed when I needed it.  Every amazing blessing has come about through giving up a part of myself and my desires to pursue God and where He takes me.  Mexico has been nothing like I imagined it would be, and that’s ok.  I’m in the midst of being transformed, and if everything was easy and as I expected, how would I change? 

As November approaches, so does the time of year when Monarch Butterflies will migrate to parts of southern Mexico.  I’ve been doing a little bit of research about these creatures, and I have been reminded about how important change is.  In one year, the butterfly life cycle will begin and end four times, with the last generation living a bit longer to ensure the survival of the species through the migration process.  Each life cycle consists of four parts as well: larvae, caterpillar, chrysalis, and adult butterfly.  While this cycle cannot be completely parallel with the Christian life-cycle, I do see similarities.  The larvae and caterpillar stages are all about eating and taking in the needed energy to allow their bodies to make it through metamorphosis in the chrysalis stage.  So it is with Christians.  We have an infancy stage in which we require information to be fed to us in order to withstand the changes that will come later.  Some of us never make it past this stage in our transformation and so never reach adult butterfly stage.  Some of us try to jump ahead to quickly and do now receive enough information to make it to that last stage either.  Currently I view myself in the “chrysalis” phase.  God is in the midst of morphing me into the creation He has in mind for me to be.  Many changes are taking place, and honestly, I hate them.  Why can’t I just stay a caterpillar forever?  It’s a life I know and is comfortable for me.  But I believe God calls each of us away from that comfort zone eventually.  I cannot affect real change in my world if I do no leave my comfort zone.  God has a beautiful end for me, and in order for me to attain that last stage I have to go through immense pain and changes.  I hope one day to respond as Heimlich did in A Bug’s Life: “Look at me!  I’m a beautiful butterfly!”—Only I hope to be more transformed than just a pair of wings jutting out from my back!

By the way, I’m reading The Dream Giver: Following Your God-Given Destiny by Bruce Wilkinson, and it talks about some of the ideas above using a parable.  I find it challenging but also comforting in the midst of my time here in Mexico.

Saludos!

Jaguar Day

Jaguar Day: an occasion to present the new basketball jerseys at a “pep-rally”, and then let the kids run free for the next two and a half hours.  The entire campus convened in their auditorium, from the youngest Kinder students to the oldest Senior students.  Expecting an explosion of lights and sounds to engage the students, I was disappointed when the entire presentation consisted of the flag ceremony and a high school student reading a speech in both English and Spanish.  There was someone running around in a Jaguar costume, and a young student in a little Jaguar costume, but that was the most exciting part of the gathering, and when they had us chant “We are, we are Jaguars, Jaguars” (same beat as “We Will Rock You”).  Afterwards, they ushered all of the students out of the auditorium to go find an activity to visit.  From that point forward, it was a free-for-all.  I was supposed to help with jump rope, but I decided to be a rogue teacher and start my own activity of frisbee.   I think it was a success, and I only lost one frisbee (which I hope will show up later). 

After we kicked the students out at 11:30pm, all of JFK staff returned to the auditorium for some bonding.  A man in unfortunate bright green track pants told us all (in Spanish of course) about the Jaguar and how it’s a powerful animal.  Then we played a series of games in which I had to follow along blindly because I couldn’t understand much of what this guy said—not just because of my lack of Spanish, but this guy had a type of lisp and did not enunciate well.  The first game we wandered around while the guy sang a song and then when he stopped he told us how many people we needed in a group.  Left over people had to do a little dance while the guy sang.  Then we had to pass balls around in a circle and whoever had one of them when the guy stopped singing had to do the same dance from earlier.  After that, everyone was given a hoola-hoop to place on the ground.  When the guy sang, we had to “swim” outside of the hoops (which I guess were supposed to be boats).  The first time the music stopped, I totally biffed it trying to get in a hoop—I don’t know quite what happened, but I did land in the hoop!  Each time they took more hoops out and we tried to cram as many people in the hoop as possible.  Then we were all given handkerchiefs that we stuck in our pockets, and then we had to run around and steal as many as we could in the time allotted.  There were a few more activities, but the last one was unforgettable.  Track-pants man led us in some dances to different songs.  The first song was about a man who got hit by a train and how he danced—of course we emulated his dance—completely inappropriate, but amusing non-the-less.  The last dance was an interpretive dance to classical music.  It was fun to be goofy with the staff.  The rest of the afternoon was spent in meetings—true excitement!

Was this day a total waste?  No, just mostly! :)

Beards, Shirts and Setbacks

What do you do when you have a group of students that is full of energy but empty of attention?  Act crazier than them!  Instead of getting frustrated at trying to control behavior, I decided to join in.  I gathered my hair underneath my chin, put a hairband around it, and wandered around stroking my newly formed “beard”.  The kids thought it was hilarious and actually listened to me the rest of the period!

Size of clothing is another difference here.  The school has provided two white polo shirts for teachers.  Making the false assumption or being the same size in shirts here in Mexico as I am in the States, I ordered large.  Unfortunately, a large is more like a very small medium.  I find it terribly difficult to be professional when I look/feel like a hoochy-mama.  Showing tummies may be ok for some people, but I like to keep the mystery alive (advice of a dear friend in CO).  I think I will have two shirts for my youngest niece after washing…

Today I was walking past the Tienda to meet one of my mentees when my principal called me over and said, “You’re going to kill me”.  It turns out she volunteered one of my classes for some kind of story activity.  Not only did I lose an entire class period with my lowest class, but the next teacher lost half of her class as well because the story activity ran longer than expected.  I also lose another 15 minutes with the same class tomorrow for a presentation from the school orchestra… I could choose to be upset over these setbacks, or I could just say, “TIM” and move on.  I choose the latter.

It's Time for Another Good Idea/Bad Idea

Good idea: driving aggressively in Querétaro. 

Bad idea: creating your own lane and then cutting off a bus 10 times bigger than you, clipping the front of the bus, and then driving off because you know it’s your fault.

This morning on our typical jerky bus ride to school, we came to a screeching halt because a car hit our bus in an attempt to pass us in a non-existent lane.  The car didn’t even stop but took off like a rocket.  The front of the bus was scraped, and the plastic guard around the wheel broke off, but no serious damage.

After experiencing paradise last weekend, the adjustment back to work has been rough.  Students no longer feel the need to follow directions, planning time is used for everything but planning, and my bug bites are driving me crazy! Despite these frustrations, the only thing I can control is my attitude.  I cannot control student behavior, administrative decisions, or lack of resources, but I can decide how I will respond to these ever-changing elements.  I just need reminders to help me remember!  My goal for the rest of this week: maintain a positive attitude. 

Journey to the Jungle

So far with this blog I have discussed the diversity of culture and people without focusing on climate or environment.  Allow me to change gears (fitting turn of phrase for a country inundated with manual transmissions).

This past three-day-weekend I had the privilege of traveling with four other adventuring souls to a few key destinations in San Luis Potosí: Xilitla (pronounced Hee-leet-la) and Ciudad Valles.  Jenika and her boyfriend Fernando organized the trip, and Melanie, Jenna and I jumped on board for the journey of a lifetime!  We started the trip with having to switch vehicles because the hood of the car wouldn’t latch shut, but at least we had the option of another car.  Jenna being the most petite was seated behind Fernando (who had the seat almost all the way back), Melanie and I switched being squished in the middle, and Jenika was copilot.  The road through the Sierra Gorda and Sierra Madre mountains was breathtaking—not only in its beauty but also in its windy roads along steep, unprotected cliffs.  Fernando’s driving succeeded in making a few passengers car-sick, but more importantly, his driving enabled us to arrive at our destinations safely!

Our reason for visiting Xilitla was to see Las Pozas, a tribute to surrealist art built by Edward James.  Because of our delay in Jalpan over slow “gringo” service and terrible food, we were only able to spend about an hour and a half wandering through peculiar structures, of which we only saw a small portion.  While the humidity threatened to drain my body of all liquid, the pure beauty of the structures and the jungle preserved my energy.  Never having experienced a jungle before, I was enamored by the lush and dense nature of such an environment.  Everything was incredibly thick and heavy, from the air to the foliage.  The sheer weight of beauty and mystery was overpowering.  After speaking with one of the tour guides, Fernando learned that we still had about a three hour drive to Ciudad Valles, so we crammed back into the car like sardines and sped off into the hills again.

Arriving at our destination, a small campground along the Micos River run by Huaxteca.com (pronounced Was-teca), we found quaint huts with beds and electricity, and dinner waiting for us.  There was even a bonfire after dinner complete with pop music and marshmallows!  It was difficult to sleep that first night because of the humidity, but the sound of the river lulled me to sleep.  The next morning we loaded onto a bus to go raft the Tampaon River—a majestic turquoise river through the lush jungle.  Our rafting guide explained the safety rules for rafting and then told us we were going to practice being flipped out of the raft.  Immediately my mind started racing and telling me that the whole point of rafting was to stay IN the raft.  My experiences with rafting have been in freezing snow-melt rivers—staying out of the water is a good thing!  But the water of the Tampaon River is warm.  In fact, I spent more time outside of the raft floating down the river than inside the raft paddling.  There were only a few rapids and nothing over class II along the 15 kilometer river.  Whenever there weren’t rapids, I took to swimming, climbing up rocks, and jumping into the warm water—it was glorious!  Two-thirds through the trip we had to get out of the raft to traverse over some rocks and then splash down (literally because we had to jump off a 15ft cliff to get to the other side) to the other side.  They gave us a granola bar and some ice tea and then we were back in the boat headed down river.  At the end of the trip, they fed us a large comida (big meal usually eaten around 3pm) of traditional Huaxtecan food, which was delicious!  Most of us napped on the 1.5 hour bus ride back to camp.  Around 7pm that evening we drove into Ciudad Valles in search for some food because we couldn’t wait until the meal at 9pm at the campground.  I ate some delicious empanadas with a coke.  Upon returning to camp, we all headed to bed, exhausted from a day of rafting, swimming, and relaxing.  The next morning we packed up the car and met our guide for our trip to one of the fourth largest waterfalls in Latin America.  After driving about 40 minutes, we were given the option of walking down to the river or riding in the back of a sketchy pick-up truck—we chose the latter.  None of us realized that we would have to paddle a long wooden boat up stream about 5 kilometers to see the water fall.  It was a lot of work, and we had to get out and walk while our tour guide and river guide pulled the boat along the shore through rapids we weren’t strong enough to paddle through.  We stopped at a large rock in front of the waterfall to take some pictures.  Afterwards, we paddled a bit down-stream and then our guide reminded us of the “river position” and told us to get out of the boat and float through the rapids.  This experience was both terrifying and exhilarating!  After two rapids we swam to shore and walked a ways to a pool in a cave, complete with flitting bats.  The cool water was sweet relief after paddling so hard in the humid heat.  We had a snack there too and then headed back to our starting point where we changed and ate another fabulous Huaxtecan meal.  Satiated for the moment, we crammed back into the car and headed towards Queretaro.  On the way we encountered a closed road with no detour signs, but Fernando managed to get us on the right road.

Despite the length of this entry, I feel I have failed to describe the incredible nature of this trip.  Many random and funny incidents have been left out (probably to relief of my fellow travelers!), and I am not able to communicate all of the emotions and thoughts that swarmed my being this weekend.  I am overwhelmed by the enormity, splendor, and beauty of the God of the Universe and that He chose to lavish His love and blessings on me through this trip.  Plus I got to know some pretty awesome people!  I’m counting down until the next long weekend… now if I can just endure this whole working thing… :) 

Sushi, Fortunes, and Adventure

God answered your prayers in giving me a better day today.  My lesson went well today, I met with two of my mentees, Sarah and I planned Ultimate Frisbee teams for tomorrow, I finally got a pair of JFK pants to wear during my Optativa, I received an encouraging letter in the mail, and I was able to spend some quality time with a new friend.  Funny how little things thrill me!

Sarah took me to her favorite sushi bar after school and introduced me to the dish she orders every time: beef and cream cheese rolled in seaweed and rice and dipped in chipotle mayonnaise.  I really enjoyed to food, but even more-so the conversation.  Quality time is one of my primary love languages—it’s how I feel loved, and it was nice of Sarah to take time out of her hectic schedule to love me in this way.  We talked about family, friends, and work.  I am not alone in my frustrations with students or the administration, which is comforting. 

After returning home, I opened the fortune cookie that came with the meal and found the following message: “You should be able to undertake and complete anything”.  Thanks to my dear friend Stephanie, I am unable to read a fortune without adding the slightly inappropriate tag ending… But for this particular message, I decided to add my own tag ending of “in Christ”.  I know I can’t undertake or complete anything on my own, but as Paul mentioned in Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things because Christ gives me the strength.”  And I think I am beginning to grasp the concept of being happy with whatever I have.  I have a long way to go before I master it, but I have to start somewhere.  Thank you for your prayers in this area, and in the area of school as well!

Tomorrow is Mexico’s Independence Day (El Grito), and I have the pleasure of joining a group of people in San Miguel de Allende to celebrate.  After that, I’m headed for a weekend of white water rafting, waterfalls, jungle, and relaxation.  I’ll let you all know the outcome of this adventure upon my return!

Drenched Trust

While I pride myself in my use of vocabulary and eloquence of writing, there is no other way to say this: being a girl sucks sometimes.  I am fully cognizant that women were/are made in the image of God, but did we have to get all of His emotions?  In the midst of blurred vision and blubbering sobs, my mind traverses a tricky course full of dark allies and ridiculous detours.  In the past hour I have raised many questions to God and received one answer: “All that has been in my life up to now/ It belongs to You/ You are still holy.”

Kim Hill’s song, “You Are Still Holy” continues to break down my preconceived notions of life.  Life is not about me or my abilities (or lack-there-of).  My triumphs, my fiascoes, and everything in between belong to God.  The weight of the world does not rest in my incapable and unqualified hands, no matter how much I feel like it does.  God is bigger than my failed lesson plans, bigger than my raging hormones, and bigger than my out-of-control acne. 

The specific cause(s) of this most recent explosion of emotion can be traced to three stimuli: 1) epic lesson plan failure, 2) being a woman, and 3) lack of time with God.  Reliving the failed lesson plan may bring about nightmares, being a woman is explanatory enough (especially for my male audience members), but I’ll elaborate upon the third stimulus.  By the time I return home, I’m done for the day except to check FB, email, and stream Alias (I’m on episode 8 of season 4…).  Mornings and I do not get along, and all of my “planning time” at school dissipates without my realization of where it goes (my speculation is that it somehow correlates with the water cycle and returns to the sky, but I digress).  So when I do I find time to meet with God?  I usually don’t.  The days I do find time to read my Bible I find it difficult to focus or there is some kind of catastrophe later in the day that negates any lesson learned from the reading.  My conversations with others about God and/or what I’m learning are non-existent.  This is a huge area of concern and one for which I desperately need prayer.  As strong a person as people perceive me to be, I am incapable of handling everything on my own, let alone the plethora of changes around which my mind is currently trying to wrap itself. 

In the midst of my many questions and self-doubt, I cling to the fact that God has brought me this far; if He wanted to get rid of me I think he would have done it a long time ago and saved Himself much trouble.  The good, the bad, and the ugly (of which I am currently occupying the latter) belong to God, and I trust His plan.  My trust is just sometimes drenched in tears.

Work and Play

Since nothing bad has happened recently, there hasn’t been much fodder for my blog!  But I’ll recap the last few days and emotions in the most exciting capacity possible.

The honeymoon is over and the students’ true personalities, as well as the teachers’, have surfaced.  There is a lull that accompanies this break-through every year; a void in which equilibrium must be achieved in order to find a routine to establish the course for the rest of the year.  After spending last year teaching 8th grade, I find that I must take a step back to remember that 6th graders do not listen or follow directions well.  This has caused a division and frustration in the classroom.  About 75% of my students are capable of following directions the first time.  The other 25% either choose not to listen or have absolutely no idea what I asked them to do.  Some may argue that this is the case with any grade level, but I believe the percentages are slightly different the older students get.  In moments of utter frustration, I forget that it is my job to teach students how to listen and follow direction.  My subject matter is important, but in 6th grade it’s more important for me to teach my students how to be learners and how to make the most of their education.

On class in particular, just like every year, is more challenging than the rest.  After reviewing papers and test scores, my suspicions were confirmed: my C class contains some of my lowest scoring students.  Either because of language acquisition or cognitive development issues, this group of students has a difficult time learning.  Earlier this week I had to remind this class, in a firm voice, that their habit of talking while the teacher talks is totally unacceptable, and I had to have them practice coming into class and getting started on the warm-up twice before they got it.  Yet apart from the irksome nature of this class, the students are precious.  I just need to remember and hold onto that that!  I also need to make more time to stay at school to accomplish all the planning and grading I can’t seem to accomplish during my planning periods…

The remainder of that week wasn’t too terribly exciting apart from playing soccer and tetherball with some of my students.  I did get to meet with two of my mentees; I’m looking forward to getting to know them better throughout this year.  Since I have 12 students, I hope to meet with each one once a month just to check in and see how life is going.

 
Last night I hung out at La Encrucijada Rock House with some other teachers from school.  Before that, some of us gathered at Sarah’s house (she lives within walking distance of the bar) and visited for about an hour before walking to the bar at 10pm.  This bar is kind of two in one.  There is a front section and a back section (separated by a little courtyard) and both have live bands.  My group of friends was in the front, and I was really impressed with the band which started playing at 11pm.  They played rock music both current and past, and it was fun to sing along.  Everything they sang was in English, but then when they talked it was in Spanish—it was kind of bizarre.  The female vocalist in particular had a great voice.  At about 2:30am Danielle said she was going home and offered to take Jo and I home.  I can’t remember the last time I stayed out that late without almost falling asleep!  I had so much fun and am definitely interested in going back!

What's in a Name?

Names carry significance to a person’s identity, even more so in Mexico.  Not only are both parents represented in a person’s last names, but a nickname implies great meaning as well.  People look for a way to shorten your name or give you a nickname.  Take Kari for example:  most people here have taken to calling me Kar.  I don’t have a problem with this, but no one outside of my family has ever called me that in the States, not even close friends.  Mau is short for Mauricio (which makes me think of China every time I say it), Pato for Patricio, Dani for Daniela, Gabo for Gabriel, Nat for Nathalia—if there’s a way to shorten or combine names, Mexican people figure it out.  Some nicknames are reserved for close relationships only, which is not that different from the States.  I don’t reveal my family nickname of Karbear to just anyone.  Because of the difference in names here in Mexico, I am fascinated with them.  I love being able to call my students by their nicknames; I feel as if I’m being let into an inner-sanctum.  I’m also embracing being called by my first name because of the same reason.  In the United States, it’s a sign of disrespect to be called by one’s first name in the teaching field, but that is not the case here in Mexico.  First names, nicknames, open a door to relationship and familiarity—the soul of this country.

Today I met my mentees for the year (minus two who were absent).  I have two 6th grade girls, one 7th grade girl, four 8th grade girls, and four 8th grade boys.  We played a series of icebreaker/team building games to get to know each other—of course the 8th graders were too cool to fully engage.  I’m looking forward to meeting with each student individually, to break them away from the mob mentality.  I hope to be able to meet with each of the 11 students at least twice a bimester, but I’ll have to see how things work out schedule-wise.

I also started Spanish lessons today after school.  Our instructor is the SWAS (School within a School) instructor for Spanish—kids who don’t know any Spanish see her to learn.  This afternoon she was learning where each of us were in our knowledge of Spanish, and I was able to get a sheet of paper that shows how to conjugate verbs in the past tense.  I’m feeling more confident in the knowledge I have already and what I will be able to learn with this class.  DEBTET!