I didn't enter Honduras tossing flowers out the airplane window.
Yet it seemed like everyone I talked to before leaving was very concerned for my safety. While I appreciated their concern, I couldn't help but be annoyed that they thought I was so naive. Did I strike people as gullible? Reckless? Green? Why was everyone-- from my El Salvadorian neighbor to my Nicaraguan banker-- telling me to bring pepper spray and to not. trust. anyone. ??
Duh. Didn't they know-- I lived in France! I traveled across Europe! I was a big girl! It wasn't like I didn't know what I was getting into. Sure, I remembered the stories from last summer about the Zetas and decapitated heads left for Mexican police to discover. But that was in Mexico. This was Honduras!
Here are some things I did not know about what I was getting myself into:
Honduras is the "Murder Capital of the World"-- 82 homicides per every 100,000 inhabitants.
The Peace Corps pulled out of Honduras this year after fifty years of operation in the country because of escalating violence. And I live in the thick of things, literally.
Catacamas is the largest city in Olancho, the "wild west" of Honduras. When we travel and tell other Hondurans we live in Catacamas, they react in horror. I'm not exaggerating.
So statistics are one thing. But how about this:
The first week she was here, Candra was walking in the street when someone pulled out a gun and shot dead a man right in front of her in broad daylight. Candra was horrified. People around her kept walking as if nothing happened.
Last weekend, eight young men were shot and killed while playing soccer. Eight. Teenagers. Killed. Just up the street from my school.
Yesterday, one of my 7th grade students threw something out the window and it hit someone. Embarrassing, right? More than embarrassing. The guy whipped out his gun and aimed it at the bus. The bus driver sped away as fast as he could and I guess the guy never fired a shot (or at least it missed) but still... I can't even believe it. My student. My pesky, bratty student.
None of these incidents cause our fellow teachers/ students to bat an eyelash. This is reality to them. Everyday reality.
It has become my reality, too. I never want to accept it. I never want to become desensitized. And I certainly don't want to die. But life isn't really in my hands, and it sure isn't mine to hold on to.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
how to love the unloveable
Please, if you have any thoughts on this, tell me!
Of all my students-- the crazy ones, the goofy ones, the ones who try to suck up to (= blandish, a new vocab word for the high school students) me and the ones who just could care less whether I appear in class or not-- there is one student who makes me the angriest.
He is in 8th grade. He is not the worst student academically-- not by a long shot. His sister is in my 10th grade class and meshes well with me and the class. But A-- A boils my blood.
His back story (which the principal filled me in on the very first day I entered his office to complain) is indeed awful. The student currently lives with his grandmother. His parents were separated at a young age. While visiting his mother in the USA, his father entered the house, shut A in the closet and murdered his mother. A heard (and likely saw) everything and was forced to witness against his father in court.
Terrible. No child should go through that.
Yet this awful past has been used continually as an excuse for his behavior today.
I am told he only responds to positive encouragement, that I need to praise him instead of yelling at him. But even this suggestion makes me angry. How am I supposed to praise a student who deliberately does everything in his power to disrupt my class?
I know that getting angry with him does not solve anything. I know my anger is wrong, that I should not take his actions personally, that I should be loving this student and finding his good qualities. I know this. But I would rather just be angry with him. It is so much easier and instinctual.
That's all. No "chicken soup for the teacher's soul" conclusion in which I tell you I found a way to incorporate this student in my classroom and now he greets me with apples and hugs. Nope. I am just tired. I feel that I have tried everything. I tried talking to him countless times. Today, I spent my entire morning recess and lunch with this student. I counseled him. I gave him the "real life" speech.
"Real life is much harder than school," I told him. "There are no second chances in life. If you disrespect your boss, you'll be fired."
His response?
"I'm going to be the boss."
And so far, he is. He is monopolizing the class and able to control the situation. And I am a haggard employee, at my wits' end but unable to quit.
Of all my students-- the crazy ones, the goofy ones, the ones who try to suck up to (= blandish, a new vocab word for the high school students) me and the ones who just could care less whether I appear in class or not-- there is one student who makes me the angriest.
He is in 8th grade. He is not the worst student academically-- not by a long shot. His sister is in my 10th grade class and meshes well with me and the class. But A-- A boils my blood.
His back story (which the principal filled me in on the very first day I entered his office to complain) is indeed awful. The student currently lives with his grandmother. His parents were separated at a young age. While visiting his mother in the USA, his father entered the house, shut A in the closet and murdered his mother. A heard (and likely saw) everything and was forced to witness against his father in court.
Terrible. No child should go through that.
Yet this awful past has been used continually as an excuse for his behavior today.
I am told he only responds to positive encouragement, that I need to praise him instead of yelling at him. But even this suggestion makes me angry. How am I supposed to praise a student who deliberately does everything in his power to disrupt my class?
I know that getting angry with him does not solve anything. I know my anger is wrong, that I should not take his actions personally, that I should be loving this student and finding his good qualities. I know this. But I would rather just be angry with him. It is so much easier and instinctual.
That's all. No "chicken soup for the teacher's soul" conclusion in which I tell you I found a way to incorporate this student in my classroom and now he greets me with apples and hugs. Nope. I am just tired. I feel that I have tried everything. I tried talking to him countless times. Today, I spent my entire morning recess and lunch with this student. I counseled him. I gave him the "real life" speech.
"Real life is much harder than school," I told him. "There are no second chances in life. If you disrespect your boss, you'll be fired."
His response?
"I'm going to be the boss."
And so far, he is. He is monopolizing the class and able to control the situation. And I am a haggard employee, at my wits' end but unable to quit.
Friday, October 19, 2012
jumbled things
I can't stop writing stories in my head, but rarely do they make it to Facebook / e-mail/ blog format. For one thing, I'm scattered already, but for another-- a lot of things I can't say.
I don't feel right publicly explaining some things... and perhaps the majority of those things would be boring anyway. So I write nothing. I am well aware this is not a happy medium. The internet is such a fickle thing-- either what I write might be misinterpreted, or the people I write about might stumble upon this, or a combination of both. And so the safe thing to do is not to do anything.
I can safely tell you that my roommate and I are quite different. We have discovered a few similarities-- we both like onions, for instance. Other than that, a wide divide separates us, encompassing cleanliness, accents, dress, public mannerisms, humor, political affiliations, feminism, life goals, views on women, views on men and dietary preferences.
Overall I have a good job. It doesn't pay well, I don't feel I excel at it, and I'm not sure the kids are even learning anything... but I really have no complaints. I do wish I could talk with the parents (directly) and I wonder if the rebellion and disrespect I fight against is normal and how I should deal with it.
I don't feel right publicly explaining some things... and perhaps the majority of those things would be boring anyway. So I write nothing. I am well aware this is not a happy medium. The internet is such a fickle thing-- either what I write might be misinterpreted, or the people I write about might stumble upon this, or a combination of both. And so the safe thing to do is not to do anything.
I can safely tell you that my roommate and I are quite different. We have discovered a few similarities-- we both like onions, for instance. Other than that, a wide divide separates us, encompassing cleanliness, accents, dress, public mannerisms, humor, political affiliations, feminism, life goals, views on women, views on men and dietary preferences.
Overall I have a good job. It doesn't pay well, I don't feel I excel at it, and I'm not sure the kids are even learning anything... but I really have no complaints. I do wish I could talk with the parents (directly) and I wonder if the rebellion and disrespect I fight against is normal and how I should deal with it.
Friday, October 12, 2012
I've got a feeling you light up a lot of rooms with a smile like that.
(lyrics stuck in my head, nothing to do with this post.)
Last weekend we (Carly, Becky, Candra and myself) traveled to Honduras' largest freshwater lake-- Lagos de Yojoa. It was great. The lake was beautiful, although not exactly Lake Michigan... i.e. marshland, not beaches. We teamed up with the rest of England and went canoeing in the lake, where I promptly dropped my sunglasses overboard and drowned Candra's camera in pursuit.
So the weekend had its ups and downs.
I was really impressed with our lodging-- D&D Brewery. They posted this picture yesterday which reminded me of one of my favorite classes at Calvin, led by Professor Warners.
"The earth is for everyone... some have already died, others are still living, but the majority have yet to be born. Protect our environment."
Definition of sustainability right there, folks.
This weekend we (Candra and I... Becky and Carly are headed to Omoa to have adventures of their own) are headed to La Ceiba to go white-water rafting. I am hoping it won't be too tame (I have heard rumors) because it is $80 if you go for the class III-IV rapids... so $40 (for class I-III) might be all I can afford right now. Consider that this past week I've had to eat on credit at school and only had apples and onions for supper, and you may understand my predicament. Eat or raft... eat or raft... c'est la question, ca!
D'accord... a plus!
(I have been not-so-secretly hoping that I will unlock the hidden link between French and Spanish so that I won't ever really have to put effort into learning Spanish, I just will use my already broken French. Until this time, I've been using the strategy of speaking French anyway, regardless of my audience. Not super successful but then again neither was Rome on its first day of construction!)
Last weekend we (Carly, Becky, Candra and myself) traveled to Honduras' largest freshwater lake-- Lagos de Yojoa. It was great. The lake was beautiful, although not exactly Lake Michigan... i.e. marshland, not beaches. We teamed up with the rest of England and went canoeing in the lake, where I promptly dropped my sunglasses overboard and drowned Candra's camera in pursuit.
So the weekend had its ups and downs.
I was really impressed with our lodging-- D&D Brewery. They posted this picture yesterday which reminded me of one of my favorite classes at Calvin, led by Professor Warners.
"The earth is for everyone... some have already died, others are still living, but the majority have yet to be born. Protect our environment."
Definition of sustainability right there, folks.
This weekend we (Candra and I... Becky and Carly are headed to Omoa to have adventures of their own) are headed to La Ceiba to go white-water rafting. I am hoping it won't be too tame (I have heard rumors) because it is $80 if you go for the class III-IV rapids... so $40 (for class I-III) might be all I can afford right now. Consider that this past week I've had to eat on credit at school and only had apples and onions for supper, and you may understand my predicament. Eat or raft... eat or raft... c'est la question, ca!
D'accord... a plus!
(I have been not-so-secretly hoping that I will unlock the hidden link between French and Spanish so that I won't ever really have to put effort into learning Spanish, I just will use my already broken French. Until this time, I've been using the strategy of speaking French anyway, regardless of my audience. Not super successful but then again neither was Rome on its first day of construction!)
Thursday, October 4, 2012
la la la
So my 8th graders hate me (and by hate, I mean are likely plotting my demise as we speak) and a 12th grader proposed to me at lunch. Such a range of emotions that I just can't keep up. My favorite grades (they always ask me and I pretend like I don't have favorites. HA!) are 9th and... yeah, probably 9th. I also like 7th minus the bratty girls, and I do like 10th/11th... honestly, I like all grades, MINUS 8th!!!! Ugh.
I'm not making any sense, I know. I haven't gradually built up the suspense over why 8th is awful, but please just accept the fact that they are all mad. I also give them many reasons to dislike me-- especially I think they love being kicked out of the classroom/ yelled at. So now they are on the offensive and seem to make a sport out of how soon they can get me to order them out of the room. Today's record was 4 minutes into class. 6 kids were sent tromping down to the principal. It is quite likely this was a relief for both of us.
I'm not making any sense, I know. I haven't gradually built up the suspense over why 8th is awful, but please just accept the fact that they are all mad. I also give them many reasons to dislike me-- especially I think they love being kicked out of the classroom/ yelled at. So now they are on the offensive and seem to make a sport out of how soon they can get me to order them out of the room. Today's record was 4 minutes into class. 6 kids were sent tromping down to the principal. It is quite likely this was a relief for both of us.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
the little girl that stole my heart
The students at are school are pretty well off, so for the most part I don't see a lot of poverty around me.
Except when it comes to dogs. I never considered myself crazy over dogs-- sure, I love my own, but I place value in human life a hundredfold over dogs.
And yet... it's hard not to look at this little girl (or any of the dogs, really) without compassion.
Here she is... all twenty-two toes of her.
She's quite a bit smaller than the other dogs... and I would argue thinner, too, though everything is relative here.
Pleading for food.
Count the toes!
She kept inching closer and closer to me... but never wanted me to get too close.
So scrawny...
and one last itch before you go...
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