First the pain, then the rising

I made up for being ten minutes late to my last counseling appointment by showing up an hour early this time. And to prove to the world/myself that I was Legit, I pulled out my laptop and started working on next week's assignment. Which was to respond to a video by Glennon Doyle about her struggles with bulimia and addiction as if I was her nurse.
Instead and in keeping with my usual rabbit holes, I wanted to know more about Glennon. How did she get her name and her Michelle Obama arms? I found out that she married the father of her child, had two more kids, found out he cheated, decided to stay, wrote a book about it and then fell in love with Abby Wambach.

Phew. What a life. Also, totally here for the Wambach crush.

Something about her strikes me as a little off, like Kristin Chenoweth taking on a role as a traveling sales(wo)man, but then she'll throw in a line about the need for intersectionality and call out white women for needing to follow WOC as leaders.


Glennon Doyle

There's more, but now I go.

God of the gaps

Neil Degrasse Tyson

I want
you to have
this,

all the beauty in my eyes, and the grace of my mouth,
all the splendor of my strength,

all the
wonder of the musk parts
of my
body,

for are we
not talking about real love, real
love? --Mirabai 

dating advice

some f-bombs, but mostly a great big truth bomb

Things I Want, Always

To live by water. Lots of water. Crashing waves, clean beaches. To hear the surf from my open bedroom window.
To have friends near and far.
To see family often and to see us grow.
To find I've been useful to the world.
To read books and hear music that moves me.
To live.

My week in status updates

buying airfare before paying tuition #priorities


A patient scratched, hit and bit today. At least she didn't go for a home run and spit like last night.


Fell asleep by 9 PM. Living the dream. Or just dreaming.

Mrs. Lagos-- April 3, 2013

When I walked into the room today, none of the students greeted me. In fact they completely ignored my own greeting and continued their boisterous activities. Cinthia had pulled the teacher’s chair up to one of her friend’s desk and was sitting in it. I said, “Cinthia, will you please return my chair to where it belongs?” She ignored me. I had to ask three times before she finally pushed it a few feet away and returned to her own desk. “Cinthia, I have asked you to put the chair back where it belongs.” She looked up at me and said, “You have legs. Do it yourself.”

Today, as is typical, Luz, Danna, Cinthia and Ishla led the class in various forms of defiance and disrespect. They would stomp their feet and get everyone to do it, and then when I asked them to stop a student “rebelled” by sticking his legs straight out in front of him.  They also rapped on their desk and performed various other acts of disturbance. Next they moved on to coughing in unison, and Cinthia ran outside of the classroom twice without asking permission to “cough outside” where she laughed and danced around before coming back into the room. “Miss, I’m sick” she would automatically claim as she entered back into the room. Other times students have read so quietly that no one could hear them. Just yesterday, I asked Ishla and Danna at different times to write something on the board, and they both wrote with microscopic font. The majority of the times when I call on them, they will play dumb. The answers are obvious—for instance, yesterday I asked one of them, “Should singular subjects agree with plural or singular verbs?” and the student said, “Miss, I don’t know.” This is a small example—I was finding that nearly every question I asked them, whether devised by me or from their workbooks, they would claim, “I don’t know. I don’t understand anything.” And then proceed to tune out the rest of my lesson.

At another point in class today, four girls (Luz, Danna, Cinthia and Ishla) kept derailing my instructions regarding an upcoming exam. I had made it clear that I was not going to discuss anything unrelated to this future exam because I wanted to be certain that the students understood my expectations. However, the students would not stop talking and barely paid attention. I heard another of their favorite phrases—“Miss I don’t understand.”—from a student who hadn’t paid attention to anything I’d said previously. And the four girls kept asking me unrelated questions.

When I did open up our discussion to other matters, the four girls became increasingly belligerent towards me. They were frustrated and questioning me over a past exam and whether or not I would drop their (failing) grades. (Three had skipped the first twenty minutes of a class once and missed out on a quiz that the rest of the students were taking. I had previously stated that I was considering dropping this quiz, but also indicated that I was not certain. Given their behavior in class at this point I do not consider dropping this quiz to be an option.) I attempted to address them civilly but warned them that I would not continue engaging in conversation if they were going to continue their disrespectful line of questioning. They did not change their behavior, so I told them I wasn’t going to talk about it any more. Cinthia fired at me, “Miss, my father pays you a lot of money to teach. You need to be a good teacher and talk to us.”

I found this comment rather offensive but masked my irritation and attempted to dignify her with a response. “Cinthia, while your father’s money is a nice gesture, I am not here to make money. I am here because I actually want to be here.”

(“That’s the right attitude, Miss!” encouraged one of the other students—one of the few that have remained respectful.)

I continued, “I am here because I want to help—I will do whatever I can to help you guys out. But I am not going to deal with your disrespect. There is no point in me engaging in conversation with you if you are not going to talk to me civilly.”

I think the class is a self-contained unit, and I’ve learned that I cannot rely on outside forces to control the behaviors inside the room. However, this class is encouraged in their behavior BY outside forces—so I am swimming upstream in effort to curtail disrespect which has been encouraged—by Mr. Mayorga, parents, and even Mr. Rodriguez in his efforts to “counsel” them.

It’s infuriating to me that this has been allowed to continue. That Cinthia was granted the privilege of classroom instruction with me after her disrespect and obscene language—and that she was discharged with little more than a slap on the wrist. That experience apparently taught her nothing, as her disrespect has only grown.

A variety of explanations has been given as to why these students are acting out so much in my class. From boredom to teacher ineptitude, I’ve heard it all. I wanted so badly for things to go well that I was determined to work very hard in order to assure myself that I’d done everything I could to reach them. But despite my efforts, most of the students shut down the moment I walk into the room. Whatever I have to say is a rather moot when the students barely acknowledge my entrance, slouch or put their head down repeatedly, and feign ignorance whenever I call on them.

They are determined not to learn from me, and I don’t see the point in continuing to fight them on this issue. Class is not meant to be a battle. The anxiety I feel before entering the room is awful. I am effectively being bullied by my own students. This is so far from what I hoped would occur when I came to Honduras. I fell in love with the country, but have fallen out of favor with the school.

I don’t like admitting that I’m failing—but I really don’t forsee any changes in the future. I don’t see any point in me continuing to teach these students. They obviously have determined there is no point in learning from me. I also wonder if I should continue to teach at the school at all—as these problems are systemic.

I believe I’m rather realistic about things. I know that I am not a perfect teacher. I had some prior training and experience, but I still felt overwhelmed in this environment. I am sure that there are many other talented teachers who would never have come to this circumstance in the first place. The unfortunate reality is that we are in this circumstance and all prior efforts to ameliorate the situation have not done so.

I appreciated meeting with you and am glad that you took the time to talk with us—but I can’t wait around for more meetings and more promises.

It’s so late in the year to make changes to a schedule, and yet with the continued disrespect and refusal to participate, I see no benefit from the status quo.

I will follow whatever instructions you have. If that means discharging me from teaching 11^th grade—or letting me go as a teacher in general, I will accept your decision with no hard feelings. I am completely opening myself up to whatever you and the administration decide is the best course of action.

Thank you for your time and consideration in all of this. I appreciate the effort that you’ve put forth—not only with these recent hurdles, but even back to settling Eric and Candra in their apartments and all the assistance since.

Best,

Hannah

things I used to want

100 things

1.     teach abroad

2.     learn a new language

3.     graduate university

4.     learn to play mandola

5.     move out

6.     get married

7.     have kids

8.     own a dog

9.     publish & illustrate a children’s book

10. write a novel

11. go deep sea diving

12. lose 15 pounds

13. explore the UP

14. read more classic novels

15. get into PA school

16. get an A-/ B+ in organic chemistry

17. learn to make coffee

18. eat more local food

19. spend a summer with my grandparents

20. improve French

21. grow a garden

22. do callenetics for one month, consistently

23. write a poem anthology

24. write five good songs

25.  graduate with honors

26. learn yoga

27. run another half marathon

28. build a better core (abs, but heart too)

29. try on blue contacts

30. improve Spanish

31. learn Korean

32. tutor high school kids

33.  get a master’s degree

34. get into PA school in Florida

five years ago

Gonna call my laptop Lazarus cuz he resurrected a month after Death by Tea.

What I missed most was stuff I'd written that I never planned to share.

So, now that I have Laz back, here's stuff I never planned to share:

Flying

September 22, 2012

I didn’t sleep at all last night. I kept thinking I’d get a few minutes in, but I knew mom would be upset if I didn’t clean the room. 

It still hasn’t “sunk in”. When will it sink in? I know it was hard saying goodbye to Mom. Standing in the line of customs it did hit me a bit—I’m really doing this. I’m flying to Honduras.

Here are some gems I’ve overheard (by my seatmates).

“Well, why would you want to finish college early anyway?”

“These young folks… how do they do it? It just amazes me. When we were 18/19, we didn’t travel anywhere. We just got married and had kids.”

This last quote was in reference to me.  Not only am I halfway to twenty-three (and not 18), I also don’t agree that all people lived like that. My grandma travelled Europe with one other friend  shortly after WWII. Talk about ballsy. All I’m doing is going to a nearby country, living with another American, and teaching at a school where the kids already speak English.  And I’m coming back in less than three months for a break. When I was in France I was gone for much longer!

The first real test is coming up soon.

I’m about to meet Jake and Vincente (possibly?) and survive a long car ride through treacherous terrain… or terrible drivers, more likely.

Then I get to meet Candra and Eric!! I’m excited to meet Candra. I’d rather not meet Eric.  Or at least prolong the inevitable as much as possible.

I always think it’s interesting to compare my expectations of a place to the reality.

I’ve kind of cheated because I already have seen a few pictures. I’m trying to downplay the images in my mind because I don’t want to be disappointed with the creepy crawly bugs… or the heat… or the lack of things Eric and I have in common. At this point I think it’d be easier to live with Luke!

I wonder if we’ll drive straight to Catacamas, or spend  a bit of time (overnight?) in Tegus, setting up a bank account…?

I wonder if I’ll break down in tears because it’s been over 30 hours since I last slept.

Or if I’ll snore and drive Candra crazy.

Or I won’t be able to control the students.

Or I’ll be harassed to the breaking point by men.

So awkward watching racy parts of movies on an airplane….

Things I love About Home

--the warm puppy smell of Clyde

--mom and I sipping hot chocolate late at night in the kitchen

September 23, 2012—driving

We’ve been driving for three hours now and I’ve had to pee for four. The roads are not kind to my predicament.

[deleted a part here that still feels a little too private]

September 27, 2012

“MEEEIS! MEEEIS! MEEEIS!!!” I hear called even after returning home for the night.

Breakfast Sandwich-- May 28th, 2014

Today I went to the dentist. She’s really nice. Short, spiky hair and bright blue eyes. One of those people you instantly know is intelligent, not because of the lab coat or stethoscope but because of her eyes.

Anyway, she and the hygienist were having a conversation over my head (literally, not metaphorically—it was about sandwiches) while they sanded my teeth. They were talking about The Working Mom’s Dilemma of getting food on the table in the time crunch between returning home and dinnertime. The dentist had explained how she’d returned home and to her surprise re-discovered that she’d put a pot roast in for tonight. “It smelled so good,” she invited us to admire. And we did. We couldn’t help but share her joy at the pot roast.

The hygienist was in a pickle. Soccer practice for her daughter began at 6:30 and she wouldn’t be home ‘till 5, so Maggie would have to have a sandwich, and the hygienist guessed she’d scrounge something up for herself.

“That’s the worst,” commiserated the dentist.
Maybe they’d go grab subway on the way. Or Jimmijohns. And then the conversation was deafened as the drill began, so I missed out on the intricacies of why Jimmijohns was inferior to subway, but when the drilling ceased, the dentist included me in the discussion by asking what my favorite sandwich was at Jimmijohns. “I have no idea.” Blank faces. “I mean, I’ve only eaten there once, and it was a really long time ago…” “What about subway?” she asked, hoping there was still some commonality between us. “I don’t go out to eat often. Poor college student, you know…” I tried to laugh it off.

I have no idea when the last time I went out to eat was. I don’t even know exactly how much I spend on groceries per week, but I’m guessing it’s around 10-15, and that’s if I’m cooking for others. Yesterday I splurged on raspberries, fresh rosemary, fenneungreek and mushrooms—all for only a dollar each. I eat some form of legume at least once a day, usually making my entire meal out of some combination of lentils, kale and balsamic vinegar. I make sure to leave every babysitting gig completely full, and often I stash snacks from my parent’s house in my backpack. I covet the empty beer bottles my housemates leave behind, dashing off with them to Meijer to get my ten cents in return. I stood in line today for over fifteen minutes at the customer service center because the machine wouldn’t recognize five of my bottles. All for fifty cents. The idea of spending five dollars a day on food is so foreign to me. 

But the disparity between our income levels was not as evident to the dentist, who in vain was trying to include me still. She chatted about her daughter’s gift to her (with “her very own spending money!” I wish I had that, too.) of a breakfast sandwich maker, which cooked an egg and fried a patty at the same time to create an all-in-one sandwich. Not only did this sound completely unappetizing to me, but the price tag (“Only around twenty or thirty dollars”) put me off as well. “You should really look into that!” “Yeah, maybe!” I said, feeling more commitment was required on my part.

I really like this dentist. She’s intelligent and good at what she does. I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. But I left the office rather dazed. Not that I was surprised a dentist can afford to eat out at subway regularly. But that she had no idea what it was like to not be able to do that kind of thing. As if a breakfast sandwich maker was something more in my budget.

//Update

Yesterday I bought a $10 pint of ice cream. 

My, how times have changed.