BLOG POST CHALLENGE

My laptop battery is less than 2%.

Here goes:

Hi.

I'm heading home in under 48 hours!

I just made that up, I don't actually know the math of this. If I pause to count it out, the computer might die.


Today my 12 graders asked to take a picture with me. Like I was the Gringa Novelty. No, I was the Gringa Novelty.

I asked them to send it to me, but I guess I'm not that much of a novelty.


I'm soopa tired. This guy got arrested for driving soopa drunk.



And avec ça, je dois dire au revoir!!!!!!


JE T'AIME!!!

GROS BISOUS, ANNA VANDERLOO!

bad teacher

Tonight, I hung out with my students.

--you aren't supposed to do that.

I was walking along when two crazy girls spotted me.

"MISS WHYTE! MISS! MISS!" Out of nowhere, Karol and Andrea appeared, decked out in 5-inch heels and sleek outfits.

"Where are you going? You girls look beautiful!"

"We just came from church, and now we're going to Sara's birthday party. You're coming, right? Wendy [Sara's sister] invited you!"

Wendy had invited me, but I had no intention of going. The whole thing felt wrong. Going to your student's birthday party? I was pretty sure Jake had mentioned at some point that this was a huge no-no. Plus I was certain I'd be the only teacher. And an awkward one at that-- especially since only two grades actually like me and the other four shoot daggers from their eyes. But I couldn't explain all of this to these sweet girls.

"I know. I'm sorry, I can't go. But it's really nice of Wendy to invite me!"

The conversation repeated like so ("Come on, Miss! Why not?"/ "Because I can't. I'm just your awkward teacher. It's ok."/ "No, Miss! Come on!") for about three minutes. Then a large SUV pulls up with one of my 10th grade boys behind the wheel. It's Celso, the boy who always tries to hug me.

"Hiiiiii, Miss..." he says with that Cheshire grin of his.

Oh dear.

Now it's Celso's turn. "Come on, Miss, get in! Let's go!" ("It's ok, you can be my girlfriend", he adds later.)

Finally, after much protest, Celso drives off. I still haven't completely convinced Andrea and Karol that I won't be attending, but managed to pinky-promise that I will eat baleadas with them. I continue on my rambling errands and stop by my favorite pastry shop and then the Texaco before heading home. My grand plans for the evening were to commence grading and maybe treat myself to a Butterfinger later.

It was not to be. As I approached the gate, I saw two familiar forms peering in.

"MISS!!!!!!!!!"

I knew I was done for. A deer in headlights. This was not going to end well.

"Miss, we ran away! Look at our shoes! [They were wearing mens' sandals.] We ran away to get you and now you HAVE to come, because Wendy invited you! We came all of this way to find you! So you need to go!"

I swear this argument sounded more convincing when faced with their pleading eyes. I know that the #1 Rule of Teaching is never to become friends with your students-- and that has never been my intention. But these girls were so sweet and I couldn't get over the fact that they'd chased me down to bring me to this party. I've likely been the most crap teacher they have ever (and will ever) have, and yet they still (REALLY) wanted me to come.

Stay tuned to Part II in which you find out whether or not I went...

(which you already know but just tune in anyway, OK?! Stop arguing with me. I am your teacher! Do you want to fight with me? No. Now sit down and do as you're told.)

baa baa black sheep

Classes are being taken away from me left and right as the school crams to prepare for the Christmas program-- which is set to take place next Tuesday.

Not that I'm complaining about not teaching-- trust me, I'm more than eager-- but it is frustrating to try to plan lessons / tests/ anything. They handed out a schedule of which classes would be blocked off-- (mid-week) but surprise!--that schedule has changed again.

This is so ill-fated.

The program itself is being copied completely from last year's Christmas program in Tegucigalpa (the capital city). The DVD plays incessantly during these practice periods, as some teachers work to imitate the dance moves and reproduce it for the students while others sketch costumes. Each grade has their own dance, and the teachers are fanatic about getting every detail right-- are the 6th graders wearing socks or are they barefoot? Are the 11th graders wearing belts?

Not to mention that the actual Bethlehem scenes are completely inaccurate... shepherds walk around in costumes more likely to be featured in an episode of The Flintstones. 

Jesus who?

Their sheep are wearing more. 

My role in all this madness was to go over lines with three students-- Mary, Joseph and Narrator. The first Narrator swapped with another student-- I think they gave me a nonsensical explanation but I've forgotten it now. Anyway, the lines were all in Spanish. It only took me ten minutes to go through each student's lines thrice. But I was given three hours. For three days I counseled them to not rock back and forth as they spoke and to take their lines seriously. They would say, "Yes, Miss!" and rock back and forth. The last day, Joseph was sick and the Narrator informed me that this was not a military school and so he would no longer be following my instructions. 

I handed the lines back to the principal and since then have enjoyed my own personal prep time, which was really all I wanted in the first place.

So, Merry Christmas!

xoxo

Top 3 Musical Videos

1. For the song:

2. For the video:

3. For the song and the video:

Funny that these are all female artists! I used to think I didn't care for female artists. I'm glad I'm over that idea. 

Things I Never Hear a Honduran Say

[I absolutely stole this from the Yahoo! Groups Honduras Living page. Not all apply to me but thought I'd share anyway... hope this doesn't give off too much of an inside joke vibe.]

Maybe we shouldn't stand right here.

Please, you only have one item, go right ahead. 

This seems dangerous. 

Keep the change. 

Hang on for a minute, let me put this in the trash. 

Your tail light is out. 

Unsweetened.  (!!!!!)

Filler'up. 

Sure, we have change. 

See, that only took a minute. 

Maybe we should get this fixed. 

This taxi only seats five. 

No mayo. 

Could you turn that down? 

Just a second, let me finish reading this. 

Now some of my own: 

Can I help you with that? 

Do you want me to speak slower? 

Would you mind if I cut in front? 

You may order just one if you'd like. 

Do you want me to translate that? 

Sorry I bumped you! 

We probably shouldn't leave this person lying on the ground. 

What is the most efficient way to do this? 

One price per group. 

Would you like me to explain what you're supposed to do? 

Let me give you a heads up. 

Would you like a smaller portion?

Here we have some unfried things.

MORE! (Thanks Kirsty! ;) )

You are so skinny!
I hate lard and salt.
Let's walk faster.
Ayy yes meeeees!
Would you like water with your meal?

I love all of the Hondurans that I've gotten to know, so of course this is in no way intended to be offensive. I'm sure they'd have more than a few things to say about me! :P 

I love this

If you're the type of Scrooge that hates Christmas music-- well, move to Honduras. I don't actively seek out Christmas music but I do love hearing this song-- what a cute rendition!

adventures I would have preferred not to have

Nothing intense, but nothing all that fun, either.

(Inside looking out--the view I did not have during this adventure)

My apartment complex.

The day I visited the farm, I actually didn't forget my camera, but when I tried to open my apartment door to get it, I realized I was in trouble. The lock wouldn't budge. This wasn't the first time-- but it was worse than any other time. 

After a few sharp jabs and jiggles I heard a loud click. Ah ha! I thought to my luckless self. I've got it now!

I had indeed got it-- got it stuck. The key would not be extracted. Nor could I turn it. 

Let me repeat... 

I had jammed my key into the lock. 

Nothing screams "burgle me!" louder than a key in a lock! 

What to do?? It was Sunday. Everyone was either in church or in bed, so not surprisingly, the landlady was nowhere to be found. To cut the story short-- I went on my adventure to Farmland and decided to deal with the Key In Lock situation later. 

Much later. 

I hadn't planned to be gone so long, but we didn't return until around 7:30 PM. 

At this point in my pointless story, I want to pause and say that I have no idea what I would have done if Elba hadn't been there. This girl saved my sorry self!

Elba called our landlady, who teleported during the course of the conversation from Tegucigalpa (three hours away) to Juticalpa (half an hour away) and then to a mysterious location an hour away. Elba was rather unimpressed with her evasiveness. 

"It's not the lock, it's the person using the lock!" Landlady quipped.

If only this were true... however, between the SIX of us, all seemed to experience the same user error. Finally Landlady sent over a carpenter. 

Who arrived on a motorcycle and sported a muscle shirt. Also a wedding ring. He was really nice, actually-- but the muscle shirt was of no use as he, too, could not budge this lock. 

Finally Landlady arrived on scene. Unable to budge the lock herself (just in case, you know, the seven previous attempts had been merely circumstantial evidence) she gave the go-ahead to the carpenter to bust down my door. I was picturing something along the lines of a SWAT move and started to back away, anticipating flying cedar chips and dust. 

Instead, a simple screw driver had him in in under a minute. And the next day my lock was replaced. But this is Honduras, and nothing is ever solved simply-- so it took over two hours to get to this point.

Stay tuned for the next installment in this series!

Lately

Last weekend, I visited a farm.

I had no idea what to expect or what to wear. Would I be riding horses? Milking cows? Raking hay? What would I be doing?

Turns out, a lot of this:

I spent a delightful day lounging around, eating food, belting out to Adele and giggling with these beautiful people. I hope I can hang out with these girls more often-- they were so sweet to welcome me into their lives and hang out with a strange gringa for the day. 

I'd forgotten my camera but needn't have worried-- taking pictures was practically all we did. Except I would have liked to take pictures of the lovely house. It was small but spacious-- lovely dark cabinets (hand-made from a nearby village) with cement floors, a wrap-around wide porch and several colorful hammocks. My dream house, in other words. 

We left around 11 and didn't come back 'till 7 at night-- a full, wonderful day. 

hoping you are enjoying similar respites-- 

xoxo,

H