As I drove by the Big Blue Martini (or whatever that ritzy corner bar with the glass windows is called), I truly felt like I could sympathize with those who go there or places like it night after night. I mean, I just had a really long day at work where I fought this day-long internal battle: me versus my lack of motivation and desire to complete the mile-long list of tasks to get caught up (thanks, snow days...er, my laziness over snow days!). On top of that, I got my dance lesson times confused (more on dance later), shooting down the only thing I had looked forward to all day long. Which meant, I decided, as tears streamed down my face at my sad lot, only one thing: it was time to get a drink.
With my Grasshopper Mocha in hand, replete with a thick layer of whipped cream on top, I settled into the brown leather couch. Three men sat in the opposite corner contemplating a chess board, one totally engrossed and two counting down till show time; another sat sighing and looking distraught over the first few chapters of Khaled Husseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns; two women conferred about the web page in front of them. Open mic night was in full gear in the room behind me, and I had three inches of papers to attempt to wade through. The room shifted, and nearly all estrogen left; more testosterone filtered in. I felt momentarily nervous until I consoled myself with the fact that nobody was paying attention. The room shifted again, and as lyrics rang out about the religious nutcases responsible for all hatred and Jesus sending people to Hell, two girls sparked a conversation with the guy next to me and proceeded to talk about the Holy Spirit showing up and reviving their church. Finally, the room shifted again and canned music resumed, the coffee shop crowd bursting out into a momentary sing along to a Sarah McLaughlin-sounding song.
And, believe it or not, I was feeling better. Nearly all of that 3" stack of papers was graded, the mocha was long gone, and I was no longer feeling like I hated the world for silly reasons. I'm thankful for being refreshed and refocused by life.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Standard Driving Lesson #2
After two minutes in the driver's seat, I had to ask my sister Christina how to turn off the seat warmer. We were still in the cul-de-sac on my street, and the only points of instruction she had given me thus far were to iterate the importance of stepping on the clutch to shift from gear to gear. I sat there practicing shifting--without actually going anywhere--just to get the feel of the gears. And I was already starting to sweat.
You have to understand. I may have been sitting on a rarely-driven-down side street, but I had an entire audience in my mother's living room. I found out later that my brother-in-law was betting I'd stall out on the first attempt to drive forward, while my mother was betting I'd do one better: take the car for a vertical leap in the air. Given the free entertainment I innocently provided my mother and my brother during my Standard Driving Lesson #1 eight years ago when we were test-driving a manual Contour, I have not, until recently, been motivated to attempt the task again. That time, after each stall, after each jerky movement (of which there were many of both), the backseat erupted into fits of laughter that made it twice as hard to concentrate. Finally, my ever-patient Dad, who had been attempting to instruct me from the passenger seat, offered to take over. This sad story has become part of family lore.
However, with new motivation to learn this skill, I have decided to attempt once again to learn how to drive a manual car. I have already sent proposals to my local friends whom I think would be at least mildly amused and amenable to teaching me this valuable skill. Unfortunately, these particular friends have not yet officially responded; fortunately, my unassuming life group buddies have offered to teach me. And my sweet sister who was not present during Lesson #1 agreed to give it a go today.
So, Standard Driving Lesson #2 transpired at approximatley 3:15-3:45 P.M. I am glad to report that with the patient tutelage of my older sister, and without the nonsupportive backseat drivers more interested in a show than my success, I didn't stall the vehicle once. I jumped a little bit--not too often--and ended up having to roll down the windows as I stuck out my tongue in nervous concentration, but we made it home in one piece. Next time, perhaps I will work up to traveling more than 1/4 mile on a semi-busy roadway and getting to Gear 4.
You have to understand. I may have been sitting on a rarely-driven-down side street, but I had an entire audience in my mother's living room. I found out later that my brother-in-law was betting I'd stall out on the first attempt to drive forward, while my mother was betting I'd do one better: take the car for a vertical leap in the air. Given the free entertainment I innocently provided my mother and my brother during my Standard Driving Lesson #1 eight years ago when we were test-driving a manual Contour, I have not, until recently, been motivated to attempt the task again. That time, after each stall, after each jerky movement (of which there were many of both), the backseat erupted into fits of laughter that made it twice as hard to concentrate. Finally, my ever-patient Dad, who had been attempting to instruct me from the passenger seat, offered to take over. This sad story has become part of family lore.
However, with new motivation to learn this skill, I have decided to attempt once again to learn how to drive a manual car. I have already sent proposals to my local friends whom I think would be at least mildly amused and amenable to teaching me this valuable skill. Unfortunately, these particular friends have not yet officially responded; fortunately, my unassuming life group buddies have offered to teach me. And my sweet sister who was not present during Lesson #1 agreed to give it a go today.
So, Standard Driving Lesson #2 transpired at approximatley 3:15-3:45 P.M. I am glad to report that with the patient tutelage of my older sister, and without the nonsupportive backseat drivers more interested in a show than my success, I didn't stall the vehicle once. I jumped a little bit--not too often--and ended up having to roll down the windows as I stuck out my tongue in nervous concentration, but we made it home in one piece. Next time, perhaps I will work up to traveling more than 1/4 mile on a semi-busy roadway and getting to Gear 4.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Shack Stores More than a Good Story
Finished reading The Shack by William P. Young last night at midnight. Though I'd heard concerns that the book contained such things as God as a woman and terrible tragedy, I found it to be an easy read that challenges the mind. In essence, the story is a religious philosophy loosely veiled through the story of Mack, the middle-aged, hardened protagonist: tragedy strikes (an emotional though not graphic section), Mack hates God, Mack goes on trip to meet God. Through this basic plot structure, the author tackled three key ideas: the Trinity, why bad things happen to good people, and organized religion. Following in the vein of Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (an influence noted even by the author), the ideas work to break lifelong churchgoers out of their preconvceived notions about God.
Young's representation of the Trinity as an African American woman, a Middle Eastern carpenter, and an Asian woman serve to break people away from the preconceived notions of God. As the character Mack claims, perhaps God doesn't look like Gandalf, white flowing beard and aged, after all. And why not represent the Trinity in this way? If God chooses to manifest himself, doesn't it make sense that God may do so however he deems appropriate since both male and female are made in his image and his children are of all tribes and nations? But Young doesn't throw in this characterization just for kicks--it serves a specific purpose in the development of Mack's thinking (and potentially ours right along with him).
Even the discussion of suffering proves insightful, if hard to swallow. God gave man freedom. If man is truly free to make his own choices, then man is also free to suffer the consequences of those choices. Unfortunately, those choices often affect others, hence suffering multiplies. Ironically, while God does not will suffering, he is able to use it for good. Though touched on several times in the novel, I, at times, like Mack, have a hard time wrapping my head around it.
And, similar to (though a little softer than) Miller's book, organized religion takes a beating in favor of relationship. This, however, seems to serve as a strong reminder of Christianity's core values rather than a ridicule of the religion as a whole.
So, is it worth the read? Certainly. I think the ideas can even be vital in evalutaing individual and community faith. Can something like this really happen? Well, it is said, with God, all things are possible. Perhaps it is time for us to reconsider the possibility of divine intervention in daily life.
Young's representation of the Trinity as an African American woman, a Middle Eastern carpenter, and an Asian woman serve to break people away from the preconceived notions of God. As the character Mack claims, perhaps God doesn't look like Gandalf, white flowing beard and aged, after all. And why not represent the Trinity in this way? If God chooses to manifest himself, doesn't it make sense that God may do so however he deems appropriate since both male and female are made in his image and his children are of all tribes and nations? But Young doesn't throw in this characterization just for kicks--it serves a specific purpose in the development of Mack's thinking (and potentially ours right along with him).
Even the discussion of suffering proves insightful, if hard to swallow. God gave man freedom. If man is truly free to make his own choices, then man is also free to suffer the consequences of those choices. Unfortunately, those choices often affect others, hence suffering multiplies. Ironically, while God does not will suffering, he is able to use it for good. Though touched on several times in the novel, I, at times, like Mack, have a hard time wrapping my head around it.
And, similar to (though a little softer than) Miller's book, organized religion takes a beating in favor of relationship. This, however, seems to serve as a strong reminder of Christianity's core values rather than a ridicule of the religion as a whole.
So, is it worth the read? Certainly. I think the ideas can even be vital in evalutaing individual and community faith. Can something like this really happen? Well, it is said, with God, all things are possible. Perhaps it is time for us to reconsider the possibility of divine intervention in daily life.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Work Efficiency? It's overrated.
Went back to work on Friday. If you were to measure my efficiency on a scale from 1 to 10, I would probably get a 2. Maybe a 3. And only because I attended the two meetings I was supposed to attend. The rest of the day I spent gabbing and then staring at my room arrangement trying to figure out the best way to accommodate my largest class (at 33, an outlier this year, thankfully).
My most productive activity at work for the weekend? Uploading my Guatemalan photos to my work computer so I can have them as my screen saver. I'm feeling a little heartsick for Guatemala at the moment.
My most productive activity at work for the weekend? Uploading my Guatemalan photos to my work computer so I can have them as my screen saver. I'm feeling a little heartsick for Guatemala at the moment.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Carne Asada and Other Yummy Things
The teachers made Rachel, Rita, and me lunch yesterday to celebrate our time here. I just have to say I love carne asada. I don't each much red meat when I'm cooking on my own, so to have delicious red meat really hit the spot. We also ate tortillas, potatoes, chile (broccoli and carrots spiced with jalapenos), salsa, and three milks cake.
The only problem with the lunch was that I had already attended two parties thrown by my third grade and sixth grade classes, respectively. The third graders are going to be the future party planners/teachers/CEOs of Guatemala because they sure know how to plan. We had snacks, we played games (find the stickers on the balloons, pinata, etc), we had a dance party (to Tarzan music, of course). The sixth graders are a little more upscale in their celebrations, with a table cloth covering all of the desks that have been pushed together, nachos and salsa, ramen, zucchini bread, grape pop, and popsicles.
The entire day was very sweet. Probably my favorite keepsake will be some of the cards students wrote.
Grateful for my time here, E.
The only problem with the lunch was that I had already attended two parties thrown by my third grade and sixth grade classes, respectively. The third graders are going to be the future party planners/teachers/CEOs of Guatemala because they sure know how to plan. We had snacks, we played games (find the stickers on the balloons, pinata, etc), we had a dance party (to Tarzan music, of course). The sixth graders are a little more upscale in their celebrations, with a table cloth covering all of the desks that have been pushed together, nachos and salsa, ramen, zucchini bread, grape pop, and popsicles.
The entire day was very sweet. Probably my favorite keepsake will be some of the cards students wrote.
Grateful for my time here, E.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Mad Gab Moment
Words, words, words. Some of the most frustrating and most hilarious moments of teaching this summer has been trying to teach vocabulary. Frustration sets in when students stare at me blankly, when I'm not sure if they don't understand because they don't know the language or because they've simply turned off their brains for the past few minutes. Humor sets in with word pronunciation and definitions.
Earlier this week, I was giving the term "sleeping bag" to my fifth graders as part of their list. Having checked the Spanish translation with one of the older, native speakers, I wrote the translation as "sleeping" (though probably it should have been something like "slipin" to keep with Spanish sounds. Alejandro piped up and said, "Miss! No make sense! Sleeping is sleeping?" He had a point, but I wasn't sure what to say since that is what they call it. However, I fortunately had looked up the dictionary word, which was "saco de dormir," and told him that. Suddenly, he shouted, "Oh! Sleeping is sleeping!" and he and the entire class cracked up. It was very much a Mad Gab moment.
It has never occurred to me before this summer, either, how important it is to say beach correctly or to pronounce tidy with a long i. Funny, funny.
Earlier this week, I was giving the term "sleeping bag" to my fifth graders as part of their list. Having checked the Spanish translation with one of the older, native speakers, I wrote the translation as "sleeping" (though probably it should have been something like "slipin" to keep with Spanish sounds. Alejandro piped up and said, "Miss! No make sense! Sleeping is sleeping?" He had a point, but I wasn't sure what to say since that is what they call it. However, I fortunately had looked up the dictionary word, which was "saco de dormir," and told him that. Suddenly, he shouted, "Oh! Sleeping is sleeping!" and he and the entire class cracked up. It was very much a Mad Gab moment.
It has never occurred to me before this summer, either, how important it is to say beach correctly or to pronounce tidy with a long i. Funny, funny.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
New Pet #10
Ludwin and Steven found a new lizard today. I think that makes reptilian creature number 10 while I've been here. This one is pretty big--six inches or so. We'll see how long the little sucker sticks around. Earlier this week Ludwin and Andrew found some baby lizards, only one inch big. Not sure what became of them.
Free Haircuts from the Hair Maestro and Other Group Stories
The four men here this week were truly jacks of all trades. They could paint. They could build. They could fix the plumbing. They could fix the computers. They could build fires. They could do just about anything--one could even give haircuts.
Glenda became Hair Maestro Luigi's faithful assistant as she lined up appointments for nearly all of the kids and several adults. "You must cancel 48 hours in advance or still pay," Luigi reminded us playfully. "This is a very professional establishment." My turn to get my hair cut came on Thursday, and it was nice to sit on the stool and have the length of my hair cut off. My ponytail (or chongo, as Caleb loves to call it as he tussles it each time he passes me) has been getting longer, and though my hair isn't long, a trim is nice. Lui did a great job.
Laura became my walking partner this week. She's a runner, but she willingly slowed her pace for me to join her on evening walks. I've missed quite a bit of my exercise this summer, so it was fantastic to have someone get me back on track. One of my favorite parts of walking, though, is talking. We had lots of little chats about life and plans and teaching and family and all that. Of course, talking makes breathing a little difficult--we just blame that on the high altitude though, nothing like being a little out of shape. With a starry night over head, the steady stream of traffic outside the walls, and the peacefulness of darkness in a safe place, it was a relaxing activity for the end of the day.
After pizza and cinnamon rolls on Thursday (a weird combination, I know. But it was pizza night and Geovany's 10th anniversary, and Marsha and Rachel make fabulous cinnamon rolls, so why not?), I got a chance to chat with Kevin and hear about his family. He's one of those hard working, laid back guys who just enjoys being, I think. Later that night, the crescent moon came out, making a picturesque view. We all stayed up late waiting for Steve's return, so Quiddler, homemade salsa, and fruit came out to keep us all awake and alert.
Last night was the closing bonfire, held for each group before they leave. This week we sat around it a little longer than usual. Doug and Glenda shared some of their life story with me. Doug also told me about his trip to Israel where he went for six weeks to work as a welder--an answer to his prayer that God would show him opportunities to use his talents. After the fire, we played Skip Bo in Pam and Steve's apartment while some of the others finished yet another game of Five Crowns just to have Geovany win again.
I enjoyed spending time with this group. They were very open, and I am thankful that they more or less let be an adopted group member.
Glenda became Hair Maestro Luigi's faithful assistant as she lined up appointments for nearly all of the kids and several adults. "You must cancel 48 hours in advance or still pay," Luigi reminded us playfully. "This is a very professional establishment." My turn to get my hair cut came on Thursday, and it was nice to sit on the stool and have the length of my hair cut off. My ponytail (or chongo, as Caleb loves to call it as he tussles it each time he passes me) has been getting longer, and though my hair isn't long, a trim is nice. Lui did a great job.
Laura became my walking partner this week. She's a runner, but she willingly slowed her pace for me to join her on evening walks. I've missed quite a bit of my exercise this summer, so it was fantastic to have someone get me back on track. One of my favorite parts of walking, though, is talking. We had lots of little chats about life and plans and teaching and family and all that. Of course, talking makes breathing a little difficult--we just blame that on the high altitude though, nothing like being a little out of shape. With a starry night over head, the steady stream of traffic outside the walls, and the peacefulness of darkness in a safe place, it was a relaxing activity for the end of the day.
After pizza and cinnamon rolls on Thursday (a weird combination, I know. But it was pizza night and Geovany's 10th anniversary, and Marsha and Rachel make fabulous cinnamon rolls, so why not?), I got a chance to chat with Kevin and hear about his family. He's one of those hard working, laid back guys who just enjoys being, I think. Later that night, the crescent moon came out, making a picturesque view. We all stayed up late waiting for Steve's return, so Quiddler, homemade salsa, and fruit came out to keep us all awake and alert.
Last night was the closing bonfire, held for each group before they leave. This week we sat around it a little longer than usual. Doug and Glenda shared some of their life story with me. Doug also told me about his trip to Israel where he went for six weeks to work as a welder--an answer to his prayer that God would show him opportunities to use his talents. After the fire, we played Skip Bo in Pam and Steve's apartment while some of the others finished yet another game of Five Crowns just to have Geovany win again.
I enjoyed spending time with this group. They were very open, and I am thankful that they more or less let be an adopted group member.
Praise God for Silent Ball
After a week and a half of not-so-great second grade math classes, we had a great day this past Wednesday. We completed our meeting strips in a timely fashion (without any broken coin jars to clean up); we reviewed our newest subtraction facts (without me having to write any names on the board); we completed the timed test (without anyone starting ahead of time or continuing to work after time was called); we completed side A of the math worksheet together (together is the key word--that doesn't often happen since so many of them like to rush ahead); and students finished side B independently, giving me an opportunity to help individual students. When I checked my watch, we still had 10 minutes left.
A little conscious of my classroom management with the normal second grade teacher there, I decided we could review the verse since that had gone so well before. So a recitation of Psalm 91 ensued at the top of the little second graders' lungs: "He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty..." Once again the decibel level shot through the roof, and the temptation to cover my ears was overpowering. After verse ten or so the yelling faded, and it was evident that was all they knew for today.
Having six minutes left in the class now, I pulled out my favorite squishy pink sea anemone (yes, the very one I love to put on bobble-head Shakespeare's head to give him a 'fro) and played Mom's trusty game: silent ball. They all stood next to their desks without saying a word, waiting patiently (well, some not so patiently) for the ball to be thrown their way. The decibel level was at ground level, and the quiet and tranquility was a great way to end a decent class period.
A little conscious of my classroom management with the normal second grade teacher there, I decided we could review the verse since that had gone so well before. So a recitation of Psalm 91 ensued at the top of the little second graders' lungs: "He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty..." Once again the decibel level shot through the roof, and the temptation to cover my ears was overpowering. After verse ten or so the yelling faded, and it was evident that was all they knew for today.
Having six minutes left in the class now, I pulled out my favorite squishy pink sea anemone (yes, the very one I love to put on bobble-head Shakespeare's head to give him a 'fro) and played Mom's trusty game: silent ball. They all stood next to their desks without saying a word, waiting patiently (well, some not so patiently) for the ball to be thrown their way. The decibel level was at ground level, and the quiet and tranquility was a great way to end a decent class period.
Water Fight of the Century
The group from Pennsylvania was here all week, and they closed out their time with the kids with a massive water balloon war yesterday after school. It was a bit like horses chomping at the bit--all of the kids knew there was to be a water fight. They asked in every class if I knew there was going to be one. All week I have been taking ballons away from them or asking them to put them away; some found them quite tasty to chew on, and even Samy snapped his tongue pretty well by having it in his mouth.
As the buses for the other students drove off, the kids started to amass themselves. Doug and Kevin guarded the adults' (or gringos') stash of water balloons. The kids hurried to do their chores--there were to be no water games until everyone was finished. Unfortunately, that message failed to be relayed to all parties, so several premature water balloons made their way to the feet of unexpectant guerrillas.
Soon, only two were left to fininsh the chores. Rachel did her best to hold the other kids (and the adults) back; I urged Carlos to finish sweeping outside the school classrooms only to discover that Ludwin not only needed to finish sweeping outside the big kitchen, but he also had to mop the tiled floor downstairs. Oh, to be stuck with a chore when everyone else is running free!
Finally, finally, the water broke loose. Water balloons splatted on the patios as several of the gringos took the tower position on the third floor; the kids stood below launching, sometimes with excellent aim, their balloons. It wasn't long before the water hoses and buckets came out. I finally joined the shindig armed with a cup and had to fight Dorcas pretty hard to get at the water spigot. While the rest of us were quite drenched, Rosita somehow had maintained her dry clothing, so Laura and I teamed up to make sure she got soaked by hiding out at both stairwells and waiting for her to descend from the upper level of classrooms.
The only one left to drench, then, was Ludwin. I tried my best, but since he is more familiar with and more nimble on the grassy hillside, he ended up staying relatively dry in spite of my attempts to soak him.
So who won? It depends whom you ask--the gringos and the Guatemalans tell quite a different story.
As the buses for the other students drove off, the kids started to amass themselves. Doug and Kevin guarded the adults' (or gringos') stash of water balloons. The kids hurried to do their chores--there were to be no water games until everyone was finished. Unfortunately, that message failed to be relayed to all parties, so several premature water balloons made their way to the feet of unexpectant guerrillas.
Soon, only two were left to fininsh the chores. Rachel did her best to hold the other kids (and the adults) back; I urged Carlos to finish sweeping outside the school classrooms only to discover that Ludwin not only needed to finish sweeping outside the big kitchen, but he also had to mop the tiled floor downstairs. Oh, to be stuck with a chore when everyone else is running free!
Finally, finally, the water broke loose. Water balloons splatted on the patios as several of the gringos took the tower position on the third floor; the kids stood below launching, sometimes with excellent aim, their balloons. It wasn't long before the water hoses and buckets came out. I finally joined the shindig armed with a cup and had to fight Dorcas pretty hard to get at the water spigot. While the rest of us were quite drenched, Rosita somehow had maintained her dry clothing, so Laura and I teamed up to make sure she got soaked by hiding out at both stairwells and waiting for her to descend from the upper level of classrooms.
The only one left to drench, then, was Ludwin. I tried my best, but since he is more familiar with and more nimble on the grassy hillside, he ended up staying relatively dry in spite of my attempts to soak him.
So who won? It depends whom you ask--the gringos and the Guatemalans tell quite a different story.
Mayan Numbers
One of the emphases in math here in Guatemala is Mayan numbers. In Pam's opinion, it's a lot of wasted time considering they don't really use them for any practical purpose. Here at La Senda, they mainly learn them for the national math competition the kids participate in. Miss Anita showed me the system: the frame looks like dominoes, upended and stacked on top of each other the larger the number is. Dots, horizontal lines, and eyes symbolize the numbers; rather than having a base of 10, the base is 20 (I think--it goes ones, twenties, four hundreds, etc). I think maybe I've heard about it before. I tried out a few numbers and got them right; however, adding and multiplying them sound like quite a chore to learn.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Market, Drunk Man, Volcanoes, and more
Made it to Antigua on Sunday, sans chickenbus (a bit relieved!). There was a huge festival going on, so central park had book and food vendors set up. Tried a cheese tortilla with lettuce, cheese, and sauce on it. Still don't like corn tortillas much--they look so much better to me than they actually taste.
I love bargaining at the market! In truth, you can find the same products every three or four stalls. Beautiful colors everywhere--in the fabrics of purses, table runners, toy animals, hammocks, leather work, paintings--brilliant blues, reds, pinks, oranges, browns every direction you cast your eye. Walk by the stalls, and they yell out, "Adelante! Come in, special price just for you. I give you it for 80 quetzales. No? Seventy-five. Best deal. Special price, just for you..." You quickly learn to smile and say no thanks, unless of course you want it, in which case you go back and forth, feigning dislike until they finally get to the price you want. One particularly persistent vendor, who haggled pretty heavily with one of the group members to sell him a giraffe, came up to me with another giraffe, trying to sell it to me. After refusing his offer several times, I finally said, "Es muy hermosa, pero lo no quiero (It's beautfiul, but I don't want it)." He chuckled and went away.
My favorite purchase of the day were two little lizard/iguana key chains. I was only going to buy one for little Ludwin, but I couldn't pass up the laughter and the deal of buying two at a cheaper price. I asked the vendor (yes, in Spanish!) if iguana eyes were really red in truth as portrayed on the key chain--it looks a little demonic. For some reason he found this a particularly humorous question, so he kept giving me reasons ("Quizas... o quizas... perhaps this or perhaps that") in the midst of his laughter, but my Spanish comprehension broke down after the word perhaps so I'm not sure what his suggestions were. I always find it enjoyable when I can make a random stranger truly laugh (although I usually do it quite by accident).
One of the team members treated me to a cup of coffee since I helped them with their bargaining in the market (delicious! much better than any coffee I make), and then we waited for Lito to show up. I've decided that Lito with a mustache looks very much like a hispanic version of Uncle Buddy (props to you, Uncle B!). Since Lito was coming from his soccer game, he was 30 minutes late, during which time a drunk guy came up and started talking to us. After telling us about 100 times that he spoke English and Spanish, he related how he lived in Oklahoma City for 2 years until he got caught by police without papers. Poor guy. Reminded me of Jose. The men from the group were not too excited about him talking to us, and I was afraid a few times that we were going to have a knock-down, dragout session in the middle of Antigua. Fortunately, it didn't come to blows, and Lito showed up to take us home.
Bible school started today. I'm going to hear "Jesus Loves Me" at least 20 times this week. At least it's the cool version with a beat and hand motions. Good thing I'm past the age where I worry about what people think when get into the song and motions. I have to admit I like it.
I think little Ludwin and I've bonded over his iguana. I showed him the little story I wrote about his iguana on my blog, and he asked me to print it out for him. Evidently, the poor little guy sobbed the night it died. He's been hanging around a lot more lately. He sat with me during prayer time for fifteen minutes, leaning his little head on my shoulder while we watched the candles flicker and listen to the music. So hard to tell what little kids are thinking.
I also helped Lupita finish a volcano today. Rachel helped her make the mold on Saturday, so today we put on a chalk and water mixture to form a hard crust before painting it. We also ran a practice verson of the volcanic explosion so she knew how to do it for her class tomorrow. I think it turned out well! Between Geovany's artistic input and Andrew's eagerness to help us collect twigs, leaves, and grass to glue to the base, it turned out quite nice.
Tomorrow: more Bible school, math with the second and third graders (too bad Bible school doesn't cut into that subject), dinner with the group. I'm trying to remember the last time someone offered to cook every meal of the day for me. I'm not used it, but I'm thankful the group is so inclusive.
I love bargaining at the market! In truth, you can find the same products every three or four stalls. Beautiful colors everywhere--in the fabrics of purses, table runners, toy animals, hammocks, leather work, paintings--brilliant blues, reds, pinks, oranges, browns every direction you cast your eye. Walk by the stalls, and they yell out, "Adelante! Come in, special price just for you. I give you it for 80 quetzales. No? Seventy-five. Best deal. Special price, just for you..." You quickly learn to smile and say no thanks, unless of course you want it, in which case you go back and forth, feigning dislike until they finally get to the price you want. One particularly persistent vendor, who haggled pretty heavily with one of the group members to sell him a giraffe, came up to me with another giraffe, trying to sell it to me. After refusing his offer several times, I finally said, "Es muy hermosa, pero lo no quiero (It's beautfiul, but I don't want it)." He chuckled and went away.
My favorite purchase of the day were two little lizard/iguana key chains. I was only going to buy one for little Ludwin, but I couldn't pass up the laughter and the deal of buying two at a cheaper price. I asked the vendor (yes, in Spanish!) if iguana eyes were really red in truth as portrayed on the key chain--it looks a little demonic. For some reason he found this a particularly humorous question, so he kept giving me reasons ("Quizas... o quizas... perhaps this or perhaps that") in the midst of his laughter, but my Spanish comprehension broke down after the word perhaps so I'm not sure what his suggestions were. I always find it enjoyable when I can make a random stranger truly laugh (although I usually do it quite by accident).
One of the team members treated me to a cup of coffee since I helped them with their bargaining in the market (delicious! much better than any coffee I make), and then we waited for Lito to show up. I've decided that Lito with a mustache looks very much like a hispanic version of Uncle Buddy (props to you, Uncle B!). Since Lito was coming from his soccer game, he was 30 minutes late, during which time a drunk guy came up and started talking to us. After telling us about 100 times that he spoke English and Spanish, he related how he lived in Oklahoma City for 2 years until he got caught by police without papers. Poor guy. Reminded me of Jose. The men from the group were not too excited about him talking to us, and I was afraid a few times that we were going to have a knock-down, dragout session in the middle of Antigua. Fortunately, it didn't come to blows, and Lito showed up to take us home.
Bible school started today. I'm going to hear "Jesus Loves Me" at least 20 times this week. At least it's the cool version with a beat and hand motions. Good thing I'm past the age where I worry about what people think when get into the song and motions. I have to admit I like it.
I think little Ludwin and I've bonded over his iguana. I showed him the little story I wrote about his iguana on my blog, and he asked me to print it out for him. Evidently, the poor little guy sobbed the night it died. He's been hanging around a lot more lately. He sat with me during prayer time for fifteen minutes, leaning his little head on my shoulder while we watched the candles flicker and listen to the music. So hard to tell what little kids are thinking.
I also helped Lupita finish a volcano today. Rachel helped her make the mold on Saturday, so today we put on a chalk and water mixture to form a hard crust before painting it. We also ran a practice verson of the volcanic explosion so she knew how to do it for her class tomorrow. I think it turned out well! Between Geovany's artistic input and Andrew's eagerness to help us collect twigs, leaves, and grass to glue to the base, it turned out quite nice.
Tomorrow: more Bible school, math with the second and third graders (too bad Bible school doesn't cut into that subject), dinner with the group. I'm trying to remember the last time someone offered to cook every meal of the day for me. I'm not used it, but I'm thankful the group is so inclusive.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Bad Computer
After sitting in the bottom of my suitcase for the past six weeks, I believe my computer has finally learned its lesson. It has decided to work again. We'll see how long it takes him to feel cantankerous again.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Cowboy Day
The apparel of the students today was clearly western in celebration of what has become the school's annual Cowboy Day (a fundraiser). Excitement ran high as instead of futbol, gunfights filled the air. It was strikingly similar to a Western Day back home, with one key difference--students are allowed to bring toy guns here. Several times today--usually when I had toy guns pointed at me--I had to chuckle at the vast difference between the paranoid laws we've had to enforce in the U.S. and the freedom here. I toted my camera around to each class, figuring it was a perfect opportunity to snap some cute photos. My favorite? The third graders waving their hats and shooting their guns at me. I'll try to upload it another time.
Vaquero Day started full force a little after three o'clock. Each grade had nominated a cowgirl and cowboy from their class, and the class that had raised the most money won the competition. Then, parents and children could play ball, eat, throw darts at balloons, or play bingo. I was holed up in the bingo room, where a very capable fifth grader ran the show. Afterwards, my friend Linda was finishing up her nail-painting station, so I had my nails done, too. She reminds quite a bit of my sister Sarah.
School story for the day--well, two, actually. My fifth graders, helping get ready for today, told me there was no English class when I arrived. A little skeptical, considering there was no teacher in sight, I decided we needed to do something. We played the vocab game I had planned, and, as is apt to happen with me on a frequent basis, a song popped into my head: The Hokey Pokey. Quite logical, really, since to put is one of their words for the week. I sang three rounds of Hokey Pokey before class was over. Come on, it's a great review of body parts, too. :)
My second grader story for the day--I tried to plan more kinesthetic activities since I assumed the students would be silly with excitement. After twenty minutes of clapping my hands, saying, "If you can hear me, raise your hand," I decided kinesthetic ideas were not the best gameplan. Book work it would be. Surprisingly, the kids were much more attentive than usual, leading me to the conclusion that allowing 3-5 minutes of craziness each class will probably be more beneficial in the long run.
Vaquero Day started full force a little after three o'clock. Each grade had nominated a cowgirl and cowboy from their class, and the class that had raised the most money won the competition. Then, parents and children could play ball, eat, throw darts at balloons, or play bingo. I was holed up in the bingo room, where a very capable fifth grader ran the show. Afterwards, my friend Linda was finishing up her nail-painting station, so I had my nails done, too. She reminds quite a bit of my sister Sarah.
School story for the day--well, two, actually. My fifth graders, helping get ready for today, told me there was no English class when I arrived. A little skeptical, considering there was no teacher in sight, I decided we needed to do something. We played the vocab game I had planned, and, as is apt to happen with me on a frequent basis, a song popped into my head: The Hokey Pokey. Quite logical, really, since to put is one of their words for the week. I sang three rounds of Hokey Pokey before class was over. Come on, it's a great review of body parts, too. :)
My second grader story for the day--I tried to plan more kinesthetic activities since I assumed the students would be silly with excitement. After twenty minutes of clapping my hands, saying, "If you can hear me, raise your hand," I decided kinesthetic ideas were not the best gameplan. Book work it would be. Surprisingly, the kids were much more attentive than usual, leading me to the conclusion that allowing 3-5 minutes of craziness each class will probably be more beneficial in the long run.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Everybody Shout
The third graders have decided the past few days that it is a fun idea to hide from the teacher before class starts. This morning, Ludwin was piled in among the bookbags, Yeny fit neatly between some large cardboard boxes and the table, and Mimi hid rather conspicuously behind drink boxes next to the microwave. Now, considering there are only five of them in the class, the noticeable shrinking of class size was quite telling. Nevertheless, they find it amusing. We'll see how many more days it lasts. Surprisingly, there have been no more visits from Lui the Iguana.
The last few days we have talked about the letter R--the R Bully, according to our language book. The third graders have really gotten into the R-Bully cheer. They stand in formation, strike various poses, and shout the words loud and clear: "R is a bully, he likes his own way, he tells all the other vowels just what to say! A-R says R! O-R says or! All the other vowels say, 'Er, er...Yes, sir!'" It's quite entertaining.
My other favorite is when they get into reciting the Bible chapter of the year. Having extra time in my second grade math class one day, I asked them to stand up and recite Psalm 91. Those 17 little voices really blew the decibel level through the roof. My ears were hurting! But they sure knew their verses. :)
Tomorrow is Cowboy Day. Yeehaw!
The last few days we have talked about the letter R--the R Bully, according to our language book. The third graders have really gotten into the R-Bully cheer. They stand in formation, strike various poses, and shout the words loud and clear: "R is a bully, he likes his own way, he tells all the other vowels just what to say! A-R says R! O-R says or! All the other vowels say, 'Er, er...Yes, sir!'" It's quite entertaining.
My other favorite is when they get into reciting the Bible chapter of the year. Having extra time in my second grade math class one day, I asked them to stand up and recite Psalm 91. Those 17 little voices really blew the decibel level through the roof. My ears were hurting! But they sure knew their verses. :)
Tomorrow is Cowboy Day. Yeehaw!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Iguana Goes to School
There once was a green and brown striped iguana who lived on the rock coast of Guatemala. He enjoyed his life, basking in the sun, taking a dip in the sea whenever he felt a little too dry. Iguana's only regret was that he could not go to school. "But Mom," he would say, "Why can't I go to school with all the other kids?"
"Dear child," replied his mother. "You are an iguana, not a boy. Besides, everything you need to know you will learn right here." Iguana was not content, but he could not think of a reason to argue with his mother.
One day, a little boy named Ludwin caught Iguana sunning himself on a dry, flat rock. Ludwin, excited to have a new pet, put Iguana on his shoulder and went for a very long ride. Poor Iguana! He was so scared, but all he could do was hang on for dear life through the twisty curves on a road that went up, up, up. Soon, Iguana and his boy Ludwin arrived at a big white building where there was a vast, dirt yard to run around. There was hardly a rock in sight!
Fortunately for little Iguana, who realized his name was probably Lui since Ludwin kept calling him that, there was still the nice cool shade of a tree near the house when he needed to rest. He had not yet found his warm spot, although his boy Ludwin's stomach seemed to be the next best thing to his rock back home.
Lui adjusted to his new home rapidly; the only thing he hated was his little rope leash. Oh, how he yearned for freedom when his boy put that on him!
One day, Lui found himself inside a big bag. If he peered up, he could see his boy Ludwin's face through the crack at the top, but suddenly his face started to disappear and zip! just like that Lui found himself in darkness. The bag swayed back and forth, nearly lulling Lui into a deep slumber. Suddenly, light poured in again and his boy Ludwin was back, pulling him out of the dark chamber.
His boy Ludwin let him explore all sorts of new things--new hands, new table tops, new clothes--when suddenly Lui realized...wait, was that a whiteboard? were these desks he was climbing on? were the students listening to a teacher? Oh, joy! He was in a classroom. He, Lui the Iguana, would be the first Iguana in his family to go to school.
Realizing what an accomplishment this would be, Lui sat patiently on his desk and did his best to listen and blend in. When he got cold, his boy Ludwin kindly placed Lui on his stomach where Lui could feel the boy's breathing and the soft touch of his boy's shirt. When Lui needed a new view, his boy Ludwin let him lie in a nice, comfortable bed of a jacket on the girl Paula's desk. The only distraction occurred when his boy Ludwin kept shoving his face into the hand of the lady who talked so much. Lui wanted to cry, "No licking hands now! I'm here to learn!" Alas, the boy Ludwin had not yet learned to talk Iguana and did not understand.
Before long, the school day was over, and Lui looked forward to sleeping on all he had learned that day: reading, writing, numbers, addition. So much to think about! But how exciting it was--and just to think! Tomorrow was a new day, and he could learn even more things then. Lui the Iguana could hardly wait as he curled up to sleep on his boy Ludwin's stomach for the night.
"Dear child," replied his mother. "You are an iguana, not a boy. Besides, everything you need to know you will learn right here." Iguana was not content, but he could not think of a reason to argue with his mother.
One day, a little boy named Ludwin caught Iguana sunning himself on a dry, flat rock. Ludwin, excited to have a new pet, put Iguana on his shoulder and went for a very long ride. Poor Iguana! He was so scared, but all he could do was hang on for dear life through the twisty curves on a road that went up, up, up. Soon, Iguana and his boy Ludwin arrived at a big white building where there was a vast, dirt yard to run around. There was hardly a rock in sight!
Fortunately for little Iguana, who realized his name was probably Lui since Ludwin kept calling him that, there was still the nice cool shade of a tree near the house when he needed to rest. He had not yet found his warm spot, although his boy Ludwin's stomach seemed to be the next best thing to his rock back home.
Lui adjusted to his new home rapidly; the only thing he hated was his little rope leash. Oh, how he yearned for freedom when his boy put that on him!
One day, Lui found himself inside a big bag. If he peered up, he could see his boy Ludwin's face through the crack at the top, but suddenly his face started to disappear and zip! just like that Lui found himself in darkness. The bag swayed back and forth, nearly lulling Lui into a deep slumber. Suddenly, light poured in again and his boy Ludwin was back, pulling him out of the dark chamber.
His boy Ludwin let him explore all sorts of new things--new hands, new table tops, new clothes--when suddenly Lui realized...wait, was that a whiteboard? were these desks he was climbing on? were the students listening to a teacher? Oh, joy! He was in a classroom. He, Lui the Iguana, would be the first Iguana in his family to go to school.
Realizing what an accomplishment this would be, Lui sat patiently on his desk and did his best to listen and blend in. When he got cold, his boy Ludwin kindly placed Lui on his stomach where Lui could feel the boy's breathing and the soft touch of his boy's shirt. When Lui needed a new view, his boy Ludwin let him lie in a nice, comfortable bed of a jacket on the girl Paula's desk. The only distraction occurred when his boy Ludwin kept shoving his face into the hand of the lady who talked so much. Lui wanted to cry, "No licking hands now! I'm here to learn!" Alas, the boy Ludwin had not yet learned to talk Iguana and did not understand.
Before long, the school day was over, and Lui looked forward to sleeping on all he had learned that day: reading, writing, numbers, addition. So much to think about! But how exciting it was--and just to think! Tomorrow was a new day, and he could learn even more things then. Lui the Iguana could hardly wait as he curled up to sleep on his boy Ludwin's stomach for the night.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Basketball and Books
Lesbia, one of the teachers here, is a big basketball fanatic. Today after school, she and I teamed up against six or eight kids to play a game with the one basketball hoop here in the dirt field of La Senda. I don't know who was winning when the kids left for dinner, but we had great fun. Between Lesbia's contagious (and continuous) laughter, Caleb's tall reach stealing the ball from me 75% of the time, Steven's attempts at dribbling, Jef's passing-the-ball-under-his-leg trick (quite hysterical, considering he's probably 3.5 feet tall), and Wagner's steadier shots, it was an entertaining afternoon (and a good bit of exercise for me).
Finished reading Pigs in Heaven last night. Great book! I wasn't a huge fan of the first book, Bean Trees, but maybe it's all a matter of timing in life. Pigs is about Taylor, a near thirty woman, who has adopted a Native American girl quite unintentionally--the girl's aunt gave the toddler girl to Taylor at a restaurant on the side of the road in Oklahoma. Four years later, Taylor finds herself at the mercy of a Native American lawyer and the Council who say that the girl was illegally adopted. Taylor runs from her problems, but with the help of her mom who decides to live in the Native American community to try to covertly investigate and underwstand the situation better, she eventually deals with it. Not only is it a captivating story with characters I could vividly imagine sitting at the kitchen with me, the writing is beautiful. Barbara Kingsolver is a master at description and comparisons, clearly painting pictures in my head and helping me envision the southwest--somewhere I've never been. Very enjoyable read.
Wish I could say the same for Wish You Well--not my favorite read by any means. The writing got in the way of the story. Perhaps it's that it's not the right time--maybe ten or fifteen years ago I would have enjoyed it more. I hope my next-year's sophomores are enjoying it.
Finished reading Pigs in Heaven last night. Great book! I wasn't a huge fan of the first book, Bean Trees, but maybe it's all a matter of timing in life. Pigs is about Taylor, a near thirty woman, who has adopted a Native American girl quite unintentionally--the girl's aunt gave the toddler girl to Taylor at a restaurant on the side of the road in Oklahoma. Four years later, Taylor finds herself at the mercy of a Native American lawyer and the Council who say that the girl was illegally adopted. Taylor runs from her problems, but with the help of her mom who decides to live in the Native American community to try to covertly investigate and underwstand the situation better, she eventually deals with it. Not only is it a captivating story with characters I could vividly imagine sitting at the kitchen with me, the writing is beautiful. Barbara Kingsolver is a master at description and comparisons, clearly painting pictures in my head and helping me envision the southwest--somewhere I've never been. Very enjoyable read.
Wish I could say the same for Wish You Well--not my favorite read by any means. The writing got in the way of the story. Perhaps it's that it's not the right time--maybe ten or fifteen years ago I would have enjoyed it more. I hope my next-year's sophomores are enjoying it.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Moments
While reviewing vocabulary with my sixth graders today, I asked them the English word for ordenado. Tidy! they replied in unision, except with a short i instead of a long i. It was so hard to supress my laughter as I asked them all to repeat the proper pronunciation.
Last night, in the midst of Rita's french-toast making and Rachel's cookie baking, I got to play entertainer for the three boys who joined us for dinner. Here's a sampling of the conversation (various adult speakers).
Let's sit at the table. Everybody want juice? Okay, Jefy, you can only have this one glass. You won't get any more. Steven, come sit down. You want to help, Gerson? Okay. Put the cookie there on the tray. You already drank your juice? Jefy, I told you you wouldn't get any more until after french toast. Okay. All at the table. Who wants fruit? All four kinds? My, you must have a big stomach. Just mangoes? Okay. Who wants to tell me the best story every? "I know!" Yes, Steven? "God." Well, I guess you can't beat that. Gerson? Yes, Jesus is good, too. What did they do? Ooh, french toast is up! Steven, come back from the porch. Okay. Get your plate. Everybody gets three pieces. Jefy, we told you to wait to start eating until everyone's back at the table. No, you can only have peanut butter on two of them. You want syrup? Turkish delight (aka, powdered sugar)? Okay, let me sprinkle it on there. Jefy, drink your juice please. You don't have any more? Okay, just a little more. But that's it. Who wants another piece? Everybody wants one. Sorry, no more peanut butter. You still have room for cookies? You want to lick the bowl? No, Jefy, you don't need to eat what Gerson couldn't finish. You've had enough. And on and on and on.
Now I know why my mom craved adult conversation after a day of babysitting. And that was only an hour and a half, if that.
Last night, in the midst of Rita's french-toast making and Rachel's cookie baking, I got to play entertainer for the three boys who joined us for dinner. Here's a sampling of the conversation (various adult speakers).
Let's sit at the table. Everybody want juice? Okay, Jefy, you can only have this one glass. You won't get any more. Steven, come sit down. You want to help, Gerson? Okay. Put the cookie there on the tray. You already drank your juice? Jefy, I told you you wouldn't get any more until after french toast. Okay. All at the table. Who wants fruit? All four kinds? My, you must have a big stomach. Just mangoes? Okay. Who wants to tell me the best story every? "I know!" Yes, Steven? "God." Well, I guess you can't beat that. Gerson? Yes, Jesus is good, too. What did they do? Ooh, french toast is up! Steven, come back from the porch. Okay. Get your plate. Everybody gets three pieces. Jefy, we told you to wait to start eating until everyone's back at the table. No, you can only have peanut butter on two of them. You want syrup? Turkish delight (aka, powdered sugar)? Okay, let me sprinkle it on there. Jefy, drink your juice please. You don't have any more? Okay, just a little more. But that's it. Who wants another piece? Everybody wants one. Sorry, no more peanut butter. You still have room for cookies? You want to lick the bowl? No, Jefy, you don't need to eat what Gerson couldn't finish. You've had enough. And on and on and on.
Now I know why my mom craved adult conversation after a day of babysitting. And that was only an hour and a half, if that.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Recent Pics
At the Lake of Swans (or Sidney's Lake :)) in Chimal
Our July 4th Celebration--gearing up for food. You see a little red, white, and blue, yes?
Geovany and Me--gotta love self-portraits
Sidney, Haley, and MeThey hail from Austin; Sidney went with me to the mall one night; Haley threw the High School Musical Day
Phillip, Wagner, and Me; Wagner tried to start a fashion trend. It lasted only a short time.
Edgardo made a little Wilson for me. Thanks, Tom Hanks, for the inspiration.
Andrew demonstrating a common request (sometimes verbal, sometimes not) from the little ones--"Will you pick me up?"
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