Never too late to learn something new

I shall spare you my alleluia chorus regarding the hotels I’ve been staying in this past week (hot water, air conditioning and clean, fresh sheets *insert choir of angels*!) Needless to say, it’s been nice.

What has also been nice is the discovery that the rest of Honduras (the part that isn’t Tegucigalpa or the Olancho district) is actually not so bad…well it’s nicer than Juticalpa at least. Not to say that the people are all that different, it’s just that they seem to actually have a sense of community beyond their front door.

Juticalpa has a lot of rich families that have built high, concrete walls topped with barbed wire around their personal paradises. Outer walls seem to push everything else back as far as possible, trying to shut out the rest of the city. Sidewalks become barely passable, and trash litters the ignored streets of the town. What matters is YOUR home, YOUR family, YOUR stuff. The rest of the city can take care of itself.

I now contrast this to the idyllic little town of Copan Ruinas, nestled into a verdant valley at the other end of the country to Juticalpa. The town gets its name from the ruined Mayan city of Copan, just a short walk from the town center. All the roads are paved with cobblestones (rather than pot-holes, and the houses are decorated and well maintained. This care is not just for show to the tourists either; it extends all the way out to the residential areas of the town (Dad and I went for a little stroll our last mourning there.) There is no garbage on the ground, and the dogs (while still present) seem to not be so on-edge (although I still was…could be a while till I feel comfortable around canines again.)

Now, I don’t expect Juticalpa to be exactly like this. After all, Copan does have the benefit of a major tourist attraction right there on their doorstep. But honestly, that isn’t really any excuse. The trash problem could be easily changed if people simply STOPPED THOWING IT ON THE GROUND. The caves and mountains alone could attract tourists and sightseers…if the city itself was actually one you would feel welcome in.

More importantly, it would be good for the people who live there. When you live surrounded by that kind of majesty (the mountains are truly breath-taking) you don’t turn it into a dumping ground. When you reach out to your community, you make it a better place for yourself as well. I am very pleased to know that not all of Honduras is like this, and it gives me hope that one day maybe Juticalpa won’t be either.

Where the Wild Mangos Grow

Last Friday I bid farewell to my students. There were tears, and promises of facebook and distant returns…it’s weird how the kid you’re yelling at two weeks ago can be so upset when you leave. Maybe it means that I have made some difference in their lives? That is my greatest wish right now. To be “that crazy teacher” that someone always remembers, that told you it was ok to be a bit weird sometimes. Sadly, being a teacher means you don’t know what kind of a difference you have made until long after you’ve said goodbye. I sorta’ hope I can come back in four years to see my students graduate.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not out of the woods yet (or in this case the mountains) and just to make that point abundantly clear, Saturday was a whole new adventure! Jeff, Dan, Jeff’s friend Mike Jones (who was in town visiting) and I were invited to go on a little trip into the mountains by Juansito, one of the groundskeepers at the school. We got an early bus out, and Dan had them stop to drop us off at the beginning of a red dirt road in what I can only describe as the middle of nowhere. Surrounding us was a sweeping landscape of green fields and copses, nestled up against the foothills of the mountains. We were met by Juansito, who lead us to his house to pick up the “tools” needed for our little excursion.

By “tools” I mean three, rather loud, dogs. Why did we need dogs you ask? Well you always need dogs…when you’re going armadillo hunting! That’s right, I was off to catch me a varmit fr dinner. I was told they taste quite good if you cook them right. But alas this was not to be. Due to all the rain we have had lately the dogs were unable to pick up the armadillo’s trail, so we only found two holes. Armadillos, you see, are nocturnal. To catch one the easiest thing to do is track down its burrow during the day and dig it out.  But the little shelled rodents seemed to have known we were coming, and chosen to sleep somewhere else that day.

This left us traipsing around the Honduran countryside for the better half of the day, during which we all got thoroughly drenched in sweat (it looked like I had just climbed out of the river) and with a wicked sunburn (did I just say “wicked”? Oh goodness I’m starting to talk like Maki. She’s from Boston you know. Next thing you know I’ll be throwing teabags into the ocean *grumble grumble tea party grumble how uncivilized…*)

Anyway, the adventure wasn’t a total loss. The views alone were worth the hike, and there were plenty of other things to see. We learned about these massive trees called “ceiba” (pronounced say-buh) which have these large, cotton-filled pods. You can use the cotton to clean cuts if you don’t have a first aid kit handy. We also spent some time resting under another wonderful tree, the mango! I tell you nothing beats fresh mango strait off the tree. Just throw a large stick up or shake a branch and it practically rains mangos. We all produced knives (it’s as if we were expecting to have to skin something) and nommed away to our heart’s content.

Things were interrupted when the hunting dogs, frustrated by the lack of armadillo, decided to harass a calf which was drinking on just the other side of a barbed wire fence. The calf ran for it…strait through the fence. Unfortunately for us, it turned out that the calf’s mother was on our side of the fence, and was none too pleased with the canines we had brought into her pasture. There was a tense moment as we all eyed the rater pointy horns on the cow’s head, before the dogs finally came to their senses and backed off.

Later the hounds continued to display their stupidity by jumping into a wide stream, which they could then not get out of. If they had just swam five feet to their right they would have been able to get onto the bank, but they insisted on trying to climb up the muddy slope they had just jumped off from. In the end one of the Hondurans had to drag the dog out by the scruff of the neck.

A funny thing about living in Honduras, it has not endeared dogs to me. Before, I would have been worried for the poor pup, however much the predicament may have been its own fault. But between the morning runs, the turf wars, and the cow incident, I find my disposition towards the canine breed slipping. I find them to be, not so much “man’s best friend” as “man’s meat-headed coworker who is often more trouble than he is worth.” I guess I need to return to the States soon and meet some less aggressive canines.

Pros and Cons

So it’s almost the end of my little adventure in Honduras…at least I think it is. The ever present, nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach still won’t let me settle on whether to stay for another year or to go. One of the other volunteers has suggested that I make a list of pros and cons for each option, so here goes:

“Going” Pros:

Pretty obvious really. I get to see my long lost friends and family, have hot showers every day, be able to breath freely outdoors, not worry that I’m gonna get eaten by wild dogs every time I go to buy groceries, and go to bed at night without the sound of distant gunfire (although to be fair, it has been fairly quite in my neck of the woods for a while now…despite what I said in my last blog.) I can be a nerd again, use a dishwasher and laundry dryer, and even wear my kilt in public without having to worry about being shot (although my sister might still kill me.)

I could get a real job! One of the police dept. I’ve been looking at is FINALLY off hiring freeze after two years, and I might just stand a chance of getting in.

“Going” Cons:

Despite how nice it would be to have a real job, do I really want one yet? I mean, once you join the real world it’s decidedly harder to travel. Suddenly you have bills and responsibilities. I’m not sure I want to give up the world just yet.

“Staying” Pros:

Yes, there are actually reasons to stay down here, despite how much I enjoy complaining. Number one reason: my kids. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I love my students (most of them anyway.) I can see so much untapped potential in them, and now that I feel like I know what I’m doing as a teacher and have a relationship with the students, do I really want to give that up already? Is my job here really done yet?

There are also more selfish reasons like improving my Spanish (which sucks), and how easy it would be to just say “sure!”

“Staying” Cons:

See “Going: Pros” for a start. I miss reliable running water. I miss my friends and family. I MISS WORLD OF WARCRAFT DARN IT!!! I am worn out, and I don’t know if I could actually DO another year. There is plenty of drama to deal with (I swear it’s a cultural past time in Honduras) and just thinking about it right now tires me out. Of course, I might feel different after being home a month, but at the moment dwelling on “next year” is inducing hair loss.

I simply cannot make up my mind. I don’t know that I have the energy right now to do another year, but if I leave I feel like I’m abandoning my kids. So what is it to be?

Gathering Storms

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGG!!!!!!!

That about sums up classes at the moment. The “students” have pretty much checked out for the rest of the year, and I’m half expecting to look in the mirror one morning and not have any hair left. Maki has taken mercy on us all by electing to end school a week early, so our finals will be next week instead of in another week’s time. Maybe I’ll make it out with just a bald spot.

In the meantime, the rainy season is now in full swing, which is probably the only reason I am able to sleep at night. The sound of the pouring rain on the tin roof of our house, and the cool breeze it brings is such a beautiful sound that last week (when the first rain hit) I almost cried. Of course, nothing here comes without a down side; in this instance the reliability of the electricity (and subsequently the internet) has dropped to almost zero. There is at least one hour each day in which there is no power. This has left us all in a precarious situation, as our lifelines to the outside world are severed just when our sanity needs them the most.

And speaking of lifelines, there might be reason to worry concerning the length of mine. Apparently the current president of Honduras has seen fit to allow the ex-president (the one that was forcibly removed a year ago) to return to the country. He’s getting back on Saturday, and there is talk of a national curfew being enforced that day. I intend to stock up on supplies Friday and make like a nerd on the release date of a new MMORPG (online videogame), by which I mean not leave the house for ANYTHING.

Compounding the situation (because as I said, there is ALWAYS something else making things worse) the Peace Corp. has decided to evacuate their people from the neighboring city of Catacamas due to the surge in violence in that area. Just last week 8 people were shot, and I have heard that one volunteer was actually in a store that was shot up. He was unhurt (I think) but enough is enough. Catacamas (a short 40 minute drive from here) is now a “No Go” area for the Peace Corp. and after their currently stationed personnel finish their current tour, they won’t be sending anyone new to Juticalpa either.

This leaves me wondering what the OAF is going to do. They have previously said that if the Peace Corp. pulls out, so will they, so does this mean no more volunteers after next year, or no more after this one? Will they stop at all? I mean don’t get me wrong, you have to be careful here, but any violence only seems to happen on the outskirts of the city…places that we NEVER go to. On the other hand there was an incident last week when a boy, only 13 years old, was shot opposite the turn off from the main road which heads towards the elementary school. That is too close for comfort.

This has been a truly sobering experience. Some days I can’t help but wonder how this country holds itself together. The police do nothing. The government does nothing useful. The people are all out for themselves first and foremost, and follow a very intense “eye-for-an-eye” ethic which is really the cause of most of the problems.

Looking at my students I want to cry. I see their futures already, as if etched in stone. The violence in the streets, between gangs, cartels, and families is echoed in my classroom. “She said something, so I pushed her; he took me pencil so I hit him.” Half the time the other person didn’t even do anything intentional. At what point does it become “…so I killed him.”

There are good people down here, but the odds they face are astronomical. Not least of all because the problems are not just rooted here. There wouldn’t be drug cartels if there wasn’t a market in the United States. People wouldn’t join them if they could make a living elsewhere. But they can’t. There are no opportunities here. It doesn’t matter what sort of education you have if there is nowhere to use it.

And so they go to the US. I have students whose parents have said “goodbye” and left forever to try and make a living in the States. They send money home to support their kids, but the children will never see their mothers and fathers again. It’s a life threatening journey just to get to the US (I know a guy whose brother lost both his legs attempting the trip), and once there if you leave you are never going to get back. One of the other volunteers had a kindergartener ask her for a visa so she could go see her mommy. A KINTERGARDENER!

What ends it? What stops the cycle? We in the US just try to keep Central America out of the States, and so they come to the US illegally (the only way they can) or they join the drug cartels to survive. And the cartels bring violence. Violence brings instability and fear. Fear leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, and suffering leads to the Dark Side.

…somehow that wasn’t quite as funny as I had hoped.

Going to the Dogs

The attentions of Spotted Dick have ceased to be cute. By the end of my last run Saturday morning, I was in such a state of panic that even just seeing a corner where I knew dogs sometimes hang out got my adrenaline pumping. Maki and Jeff expressed similar dismay over a particularly hairy (in all senses of the word) encounter during the run, in which a hell hound decided they would make a good breakfast. Many of the run-ins (no pun intended) we have in the morning could probably be avoided, if we did not have a certain little white spotted canine following us around.

To make matters worse (as they always seem to be down here) Dick has decided that he can now follow us EVERY time we go into town. This ended in disaster when on Sunday afternoon Dick followed me to the local Texaco gas station. Being one of the volunteers favorite places to work, I was on my way to meet up with the other volunteers and do some lesson planning in the air conditioning. Along the way, Dick decided to stop to gnaw on a piece of trash he found. By the time I had noticed his absence I was 30 feet farther down the road, putting me too far to do anything about the beast of a canine which now took offense to Dicks presence in what was clearly HIS part of town.

The ensuing scuffle was not a pleasant sight, and Dick, although alive, did not come out victorious. He proceeded to run towards me, closely followed by The Beast. What possessed me to stand my ground and shoo the great brute off I will never know, but to my great relief it actually worked. Dick carried on as if nothing had happened…accept that he was now leaving a red trail of dots on the ground behind him, and his neck fur was SOAKED in bright red.

I was not pleased.

I met up with the others at Texaco, and Dick disappeared (or rather was chased off by the gas station attendant), later somehow managing to reappear back home.

Feeling that Dick really needed some sort of medical attention (and knowing full well that his “owners” wouldn’t do anything) we sent a distress call to Sonya, who came to the rescue Monday night.

I don’t think I have mentioned Sonya before in my blog. She is a local vet, and good friend of the volunteers. We met her at the beginning of the year, back when we were still trying to have a get together with some locals too practice each other’s language. She has since taken us on hikes up mountains, and on caving expeditions, has told us of how she went to Russia for veterinary school, and given us all the suspicion that she probably knows 25 ways to kill you with a paper cup. Sonya is, in short, awesome.

So it is with great relief that Sonya arrives Monday night to take a look at Dick. With the help of Dick’s owner’s son, Sonya gave the little guy an anti-biotic shot, as well as an anti-inflammatory (which he did not appreciate).

We are now determined to teach Dick to “stay” when we go out, so as to avoid further incidents.

The Home Stretch and Man’s Best Friend

It’s never too late to make a change, and with only three weeks of classes left Jeff, Maki, and myself have decided to start running on a regular basis. Since it is very hot and dusty in the afternoons (see “Hot and Bothered” below) the idea was put forth that we should run in the mornings before school. I’m not sure what possessed me to go along with this scheme, but for better or for worse I am now getting up at 5 am to go run the grimy streets of Juticalpa.

Actually it’s been rather nice. It is a lot cooler in the am, and the dust is still on the ground where it belongs, since the morning traffic hasn’t begun yet. There are two concerns I have though. One is the trash. Most Honduran main street folks start the day by cleaning up all the trash in the gutter of their shop fronts. The garbage truck, too, does not start its rounds until about 7, meaning that the streets of the city are ripe (and I do mean RIPE) with some of the more offensive odors known to human kind. More than once on some runs I have had to fight back a strong urge to evacuate the contents of my stomach.

The other concern is the roving bands of dogs which basically own the streets after dark. At least one other volunteer gave up running in the morning for just this reason. You see, being a predatory species nothing gets a dog’s dander up like seeing something running. Be it a car, a bicycle, or lone pedestrian, something clicks in the reptilian part of the brain, giving rise to age old instincts and the desire to chase whoever the unlucky sap happens to be. Some of these canines are also quite large, and encouraged by their owners to chase off anyone approaching their house outside of business hours.

All this has not endeared the morning constitutional to me…although the dogs do provide excellent motivation.

But a savior has appeared to defend us on those gray morning runs. He is a force like no other in Juticalpa. The streets are his kingdom and his home, and he rules them with an unshakable…umm…coat of dust! Yes, one might even say that he is one with the grime itself! I am of course speaking of none other than “Spotted Dick* ” Oso, the little dog that lives next door!

(* I would like to clarify for any non-English readers that spotted dick is a type of bread pudding with raisins in it. There seems to have been some misinterpretation going about, and I want to make certain that nobody’s sense of propriety has been affronted by my blog.)

Yes, little Dick followed us on our entire run the other morning, all the way from our house to the center of town and back again. He chased off several dogs, and even slowed down to wait for me when I couldn’t keep up with Maki and Jeff (I have never been much of an athlete, unlike Maki and Jeff, who are both in disgustingly good shape. Talk about lessons in humility.)

I do suspect that fewer dogs would have bothered us had Dick not been there, but at least the ones that did give chase were barking at Dick and not us.

PS. The first plantains didn’t turn out too good (I tried to bake them and they just didn’t take to it). They were also green which, although it seems to be the only way to buy them here, may have lent to the somewhat chalky texture. Ah well, better luck next time.

Small Mercies

             RAIN!!! After almost three months we were finally blessed with a good, solid shower last night (and I don’t mean with running water…although I did get to have one of those Tuesday morning!) I was able to breathe easy (literally) last night, and even slept with the window open!

This came hot on the heels of another minor miracle. My laptop and lifeline to the outside world had decided to stop working for some reason, and I was NOT pleased with the unfortunate turn of events. I cannot imagine what would have made it just stop like that. It’s not like I stayed up until 10:30pm reading comics on the internet, and then knocked the computer on the hard, concrete floor. And I would never even imagine, not even out of desperation at 11:45 on a school night, of trying to take apart the computer casing to see if something had been knocked loose by any kind of impact. Never! Thankfully, a good night’s sleep seems to have revived my portal to civilization, although exactly how is a true mystery (my theory is magical Honduran elves.)

My students continue to be…well…students, which in retrospect is a vast improvement on previous months! One student in particular has made an incredible turn-about, and is now one of the better students in the school! Let’s hope that some of the others follow her example!

In other news, my dream of taking students on a field trip to the Mayan ruins of Copan will soon be a reality! In just three weeks we will be taking the kids (those with a high enough grade in World History or Geography that is) on a three day field trip to the ruins. It is my hope that this will bring their “History to life” is it were, and maybe make learning just that little bit more interesting.

I am also happy to report that the long-standing problem of Brian appears to be resolving itself, to the benefit of all involved. Brian, our raggedy street-urchin (or so he would have us believe) has been growing steadily all year (both up and out) lending credence to my conviction that he is not, in fact, a homeless, mal-nourished beggar (just an annoying, chubby one.) He has recently achieved a height from which he is now capable of carrying a large bucket. A bucket which can be filled with mangos!

Yes, our little Brian has joined the unwashed masses of the employed (although he was plenty unwashed before), and came by our abode yesterday before the rains hit, to peddle his wears. And for three mangos for 10 lemps, I was more than happy to be pedaled too.

While we are on the topic of fruit, I have an important announcement (no, I’m not gay). I purchased a new ingredient yesterday, one which I have never tried before, so you can all expect to soon be reading “Iron Chef Honduras: Plantains” (and I promise it won’t take me a month to write it this time.)

Hot and Bothered

                Semana Santa came and went, and before you now it I’m back in dusty Juticulpa. I guess my brief reprieve to the States made my lungs go soft, because I had to spend the first two nights back sleeping with a dust mask on to prevent me from choking in my sleep (this is not a joke, I really did go to bed wearing a dust mask.)

                It has also been unbearable hot over the past week, usually in the 90’s during the day (and almost there at night as well,) making teaching a class nigh impossible. I don’t think it would make a difference is I did a song and dance number at the front of the classroom, while juggling live hedgehogs, the kids would still just sit there in a sweaty stupor (not that I can really blame them.)

                But with April finished, and May rapidly descending upon us like a troop of sugar-high, tambourine-wielding monkeys, the end of the school year has never seemed so close. There are only 5 weeks of classes left, followed by exam week and a week of recuperation exams. So the real question of the day is “what next?”

                Over the Easter break, I submitted a few job applications in the states, as well as a letter requesting sponsorship to return to Honduras for another year (I like to have my bases covered.) This is all very well and good, but what should I really be pushing for? Part of me really misses regularly running water and air conditioning (not to mention my friends and family.) On the flip side, it is a very sobering thought when you realize that you are the only person that really cares about a child’s education. I mean, many of the parents don’t really support their children in the pursuit of learning, either because they don’t see any real merit in it, or because they simply can’t (how do you help a student with homework that you yourself do not understand?)

                But that’s where my frustration hit a snag. These are MY kids now, and for better or for worse, do I really want to leave them to the tender mercies of whoever the next volunteers will be? I mean, it took me half the year to just figure out how to be a good teacher (although it would have been less if I had had a little more support from the powers that be *grumble grumble*) But if I don’t have the energy or drive to be here, is that really fare to my students?

                Regardless I can’t afford to spend too much time freaking out about the uncertainty of the future (especially since it’s going to be uncertain whether or not I have a plan.) I still have 5 weeks of classes to focus on, young minds to shape, and plenty of adventures still unexplored…plus the mother’s day lunch to decorate, the Open House to plan (curse my willingness to volunteer for stuff!) and midterm grades to finish. It’s gonna be a long night.

Cultural Denial

Just a quick update. One of the other volunteers found this blog article, and I have to say, I find it hilarious! It could not be truer. We get snubbed by Day Star teachers in the street all the time (Day Star is another bi-lingual school in Juti. We like to call them "The Others"...we watch a bit too much "Lost" on DVD in our free time.) Our group is weird in that we greet everyone, gringo or otherwise, that we meet on the street. I guess we’re just too happy to be real volunteers.

http://stuffexpataidworkerslike.com/2011/01/27/17-pretending-not-to-see-each-other/

Mangos and Moustache March

Mango season that is! The local markets are chock full of my all-time favorite fruit, and they only cost 10 lempira each! That’s somewhere in the ballpark of 55 US cents! This means that it’s time for another (much anticipated) episode of IRON CHEF HONDURAS (thunderous applause)!

What can’t you do with the miraculous mango? If you can think of something, please tell me. Thus far I have thought of all kinds of intriguing recipes from mango chicken to mango vodka fruit salad. The latter was particularly popular at our Mardi Graz party at the beginning of lent.

Alas however, most of the mangos I buy don’t make it to the “exploratory cooking” stage, because as soon as I peel and slice the fruit it mysteriously disappears. I can’t help myself, nothing beats a ripe mango.

I have been able to control myself long enough to create some DELICIOUSE chismol de mango (mango salsa.) Take the following, dice all the fruit/veggies, mix, and enjoy with corn chips:

-          2 mangos

-          2 green bell peppers

-          1 red onion

-          Fresh cilantro to taste

-          2 large pinches of salt

-          1 – 2 tsp. cumin

I have eaten nothing but a massive bowl of chismol de mango for dinner twice this week already.

In addition to it being mango season, it is also moustache March! I’ve been rockin’ out the ‘stache for the past three weeks, with various accessories (soul patch, side burns, etc.) As the end of March is rapidly approaching, I have gone pure moustache for the remainder of the season. Having finished shaving I looked up and received a bit of a shock, finding a young version of my father staring back at me. I’ve been told that I look a lot like my dad, but I’ve never really seen it so intensely until now.

Jeff says I look like a cop, which I suppose is a good thing considering that’s what I aim to be one day. And speaking of Jeff, he too is growing a moustache for March. In fact, the two of us convinced most of the male members of the OAF to take part! I’ll try to take a picture of all of us next week…and then I’ll try to actually post some of my many, many pictures that I have been accumulating on my computer.

Moral Dillema

So I and my housemates have had a problem with this local child for some time now. His name is Brian, is about 6 years old, and he is CONSTANTLY coming over asking for food, water, money, and clothes and medicine for his mother. At first we were having him cut out front grass (a job here which is done with a machete, and is backbreaking for anyone over 3 feet tall.) In exchange we would give him 20 lempira and a sandwich.

The problems began when Brian started coming over when we didn’t need the grass cut. He would come over at least once a week asking for food and money, and I, trying to be a good Christian, would offer him some small bit of food (usually a slice of bread with jam) and a glass of water. Now, Brian is by no means underfed, and he has “clean” clothes, by which I mean he has different ones each time I see him, so he isn’t destitute either. So when the visits keep increasing in frequency, we start getting annoyed. We can’t afford to feed a child on our stipend, especially one that isn’t ours.

Brian also starts showing up at odd times, like 9:30 at night when we are all dog tired and heading to bed (well…those of us done with lesson planning.) We also learn that he is doing rounds of the volunteer houses, and that he usually has been given stuff already by the time he comes knocking on our door. At this point we decide to start getting tough. We stop feeding him unless he cuts the grass (which honestly looks worse after he has cut it,) and start ushering him away. In response to this, Brian starts bringing friends with, all of whom are just as demanding, and many of whom don’t wear clothes (nothing more disconcerting than looking up to see a naked and dirt-covered child sneaking in through your front door.)

I feel bad for them, I really do, but I do not run a poor house. Not to mention they already HAVE parents and homes of their own. That being said, their homes probably suck, as Peggy has already informed me that Brian’s mother is a well-known alcoholic.

So what do I do? I can’t keep handing out food to swarms of demanding children (and honestly the complete lack of any kind of gratitude is enough to put one off. All they know is “give me”, without any kind of “please”, “thank you”, or any genuine gratitude at all…reminds me of some of my students actually.) However, this doesn’t remove the stab of guilt I feel every time I turn them away, accompanied be the haunting verse from Revelations about denying God whenever you turn a hungry beggar from your door.

Brian isn’t exactly hungry though so much as he is greedy, but he is poor and worse off than me. So what am I to do?

Music to my Ears

Wednesday, February 23^rd was a turning point…well, somewhat. On Maki’s suggestion, I tried playing music in the art room while the students were working. It is said that music soothes the savage beast, well I can tell you that it most certainly does! I know find myself able to breath during my classes, and I come out with half the amount of grey hairs! True, half my students STILL don’t bring in their art and activities materials (I’ve started sending them to the consejera to have their parents called about it,) but at least they are somewhat controlled in the art room. The only problem now is that I don’t have all that much music on my iTunes. Looks like I’ll have to go to the Esso one weekend and use their Wifi to go to the iTunes music store.

Wednesday night proved to be just as bizarre as my calm classroom. The other volunteers and I were invited to the house of one of the parents of a kid at the elementary school. He also happens to be the shofar for the Bishop of Olancho, who lives right here in Juticalpa. He was also invited. So by 8pm I was sitting next to the bishop, drinking 12 year old bourbon with him, and listening to a live marimba band (I swear I have never seen a xylophone that big in my life!) The food was fantastic, and we all went home in high spirits (and full of spirits…although not TOO full, as it was a weeknight.)

On the following Saturday, myself, Angela, and Dan were invited to go out of town for the day with another family of one of our students (as you might be noticing, such practices are common in Honduras. You have no choice, you ARE a part of the community.) We drove north for about an hour before parking on a dirt back road next to a cow pasture. A short hike brought us into a small grove of trees nestled at the base of some quite spectacular mountains. Upon first entering the tree line, the first thing I noticed was the river flowing down from the mountain. I have NEVER seen a flowing river so crystal clear before. I could see in perfect detail the red and green rocks lying on the riverbed, standing out sharply against the white sand.

As we walked deeper into the woods the terrain rose up, until we were scrambling over massive, moss-covered rocks. The air was cool and fragrant, and I drank in every breath, savoring it after weeks of breathing the dusty city air. We finally reached a point where the ground rose up into a steep cliff. By now the trees rose high above us, and we could see strangler fig vines, buttress roots, and tropical bromeliads adorning the massive tree trunks. Here we made base camp. The parents set about building a fire amongst the rocks to cook lunch (carne asada, home-made tortillas, frijoles, and chizmol) while he kids disappeared down to the river.

Now, we had been promised caves on this little excursion, and we were not to be disappointed. Following two of the kids, we scrambled up the lower slopes of the cliff to the first of three cave entrances. There were no guards, no path, no entrance fee, just the sandy floor of the smooth stone tunnel, disappearing into the gloom. We had one flashlight between us, but it was enough. We ventured in and spent the next hour or so exploring. It was truly breathtaking.

And yet the best was still to come! Upon scrambling even high to the second cave entrance, we saw an owls nest, complete with two massive owls! We had a great time showing the kids the owl pellets we found at the cave entrance. It felt wonderful to have students who actually wanted to learn for a change. When we got fairly deep into the second cave, we sat down and turned off the flashlight. It was utter darkness, and complete silence. It was beautiful.

Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, it did. We left the cave and climbed back down to get lunch. We had worked up quite an appetite with all our climbing, and the food was delicious. After lunch the kids convinced us to tame a swim in the river (after digesting a little of course). When we ventured down to the water, however, we were amazed to discover exactly why it was so clear. The river was flowing directly out of a third cave! And this was no small tunnel either, the ceiling arched high above us as we swam deeper in, and was easily wide enough to fit in a small raft (which I am now determined to find and take back there!) We swam deeper and deeper into the cave, but it just kept going! We finally had to turn back on account of it getting too cold.

It’s experiences like these that get me through my classes lately. I really want to take my students on a retreat to those cave though. It occurs to me that they have probably never heard absolute silence in their entire lives, and I would love to see what effect it would have on them

When the going gets tough...

Sorry for not posting for a while, things are just moving so fast now. The last two weeks have simply flown past, now that I feel I’ve found my rhythm.

Activities has continued to be awesome. After finishing up Italian cooking with 7^th grade (they LOVED making pasta alfredo) we moved on to Thailand and made Pad Thai (astoundingly, you can get ALL the ingredients for the dish at almost any store!) This week will be China for vegi stir fry, and then we get to Indian cooking (with a brief layover in France for crepes the week of Fat Tuesday.) The kids are really getting into it, even badgering me outside of class about what we are going to cook next.

7^th Grade art has been likewise a huge success, now that I am doing different projects from the 8^th grade art class. The 3 Object drawing project turned out great, and now we are working on hot/cold colors and organic/geometric shapes (very modern art looking drawings, but the kids enjoy it, and it challenges their visual thinking!)

Alas, 8^th grade has not been quite as successful, mainly because nobody has been bringing in their materials. In art we just finished a creative color wheel painting, and now are (theoretically) working on a four color scheme painting. I think the kids would like the project, if only they would bring in a picture to paint from. Likewise, the Chinese New Year dragon puppets we are doing in activities SHOULD be almost half way finished, but most students haven’t even started! I am truly at a loss as to how to get them to start bringing in their materials.

On the plus side, I really feel like I’ve got this teaching thing down now…well, at least the classroom management part. Many of the students actually seem to respect me, and know when I mean business. True by US standards my classroom is still a “three ring circus”, but that is a step up from “riot of killer clowns”.

However, there are still a few “killer clowns” lurking in the high trapeze, and taming them is proving problematic. Certain drama queens will just dig their heels in and find ANY excuse to argue and complain about the class at hand. I actually had to scream at one class today (something I try to NOT have to do very often) when they were on the verge of rioting. I had given them another group project, only this time they had assigned groups (dun dun DUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!)

The  way some of them reacted you would think I had just told them I was going to shave their heads and send them to boot camp…hmm, now that I think of it, that’s not such a bad idea…

Oh, and here is a little video one of the other volunteers found. It's been my motivation during some of the more trying classes:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6wRkzCW5qI

Getting Up to Date...Almost

This week can be described in three words: Three Ring Circus. Monday was relatively calm, with the teachers mostly just going over plans for the third semester. I reviewed the materials the kids would need for Art and Activities, which was more work than I had anticipated, as I have made different lesson plans for each grade this quarter. This means that I am now having to juggle what equates to five different classes (World History, 7^th grade Activities, 7^th grade art, 8^th grade activities, and 8^th grade art…but who’s counting?) I guess it’s really more like four, since I decided to make 8^th grade activities a part of their world history class this time. It gives me a great deal more direction with their projects, rather than giving the kids random assignments to do.

Tuesday was Day of the Woman. This is a Honduran tradition which I can only describe as something between Mother’s Day and Veteran’s Day. This, I discovered, was why Maki had wanted to take the girls aside and talk about stuff with them. I’m glad things went well for them, because it make the headache I got from babysitting the boys somewhat worth it. None the less, I was ready to throw some of the boys out for their behavior and attitude that day. I really need to accept the fact that I am teaching at what, in the States, would be considered a school of behavioral problems and troubled youths.

I should have known the day would be rough when, on the ride to school, I saw the monkey with the lollypop. Um…I should probably explain that. You see, on the way to school, there is one house that has a pet monkey. It will sometimes sit on the roof in the morning, and we have be using it to “predicted” what sort of day we are going to have (goofy I know, but it makes the bus ride a little more bearable). If the monkey is sitting and looking about cheerfully, it’s going to be a good day. If the monkey shows us its butt, it’s gonna’ be a…well, you know. This day however, the monkey was sitting there, licking a lollypop. I kid you not. I figured this could only mean one of two things. Today would be “sweet”, or we were F@$!#&. Alas, it was the latter.

We (tried) to watch the movie “Into the Wild”, and discuss themes like growing up and what really matters in life. The only question the guys really put any effort into was the one regarding sex…and their responses weren’t exactly encouraging. We asked “why did Chris (the main character of the movie) choose not to have sex with the girl in the trailer park (see movie for details)? One kid actually got up and said, in all seriousness, that “any guy who passes up an opportunity to have sex with a woman is gay.” That would have been the end of a very unpleasant day, had little Jose Carlos not stood up and countered the other boy, saying that “he (the main character) had chosen not to have sex with the girl, because she was young, and he didn’t want to mess up her life.” I guess there is some hope for our kids.

Wednesday and Thursday continued to go downhill, the students slowly getting more and more hormonal and ornery. I’m pretty sure that in the States a student would have been expelled, or at least suspended, for the disrespect some of these ones show to their teachers. To make matters worse, we the teachers saw almost nothing of our fearless leader, Maki, who has been embroiled in meeting after meeting with irate parents and deranged students.

Friday was actually a little better…at least the school didn’t burn down during my cooking class! I’m doing Italian with the seventh graders in Activities, and we made ravioli from scratch (yup, even the pasta.) The kids even cleaned up after themselves (with minimal “encouragement”.) Of course, 7B then lied to me later in the day, in order to sneak out of my art class and run amuck in the halls (I thought they had to go to a choir rehearsal).

Friday was also the last day we had Michael. You remember Michael, our blind student? Well his mother has finally decided that it would be better for him to be in an all-Spanish-speaking school, so he is transferring out. It’s kind of sad to see him go (no, that was not a pun, I’m not that mean), but I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. That’s one less lesson plan I have to worry about.

A Day on the River

(This post should have been posted last Monday…sorry about the delay. More to come shortly)

What with my world history final exam being on Tuesday, I was able to complete all my grading and turn in my final grades by Friday. I even finished the majority of my lesson planning for the next quarter, so I had the whole weekend to myself!

This was fortuitous, as one of my students invited the volunteers to his birthday party on Sunday. We had previously attended the party of his younger brother, and were very excited to get to go again. The party took place out in the country, surrounded by trees and fields. There is a simple, two story wooden structure, which I think is only used for occasions such as this one. There is a bathroom with a shower, and a kitchen with a wood stove. The rooms are bare, and only really used for storage during the party, and to set up cribs for any little babies in need of a place to nap.

As before, a number of tables and chairs were set up under the overhang of the building. The place was bedecked with balloons and streamers, and the smell of grilling meat drifted out from the kitchen. We stopped for a quick snack, and then piled back into the truck to drive down to the river. Emerging from the trees, we were greeted by a sweeping flood plain of rock and sand, through which meandered a blue-green river. It must be the Honduran equivalent of spring, because there were blossoming trees in pink and yellow along the banks of the river. It was a pleasant 75 degrees, just warm enough to enjoy the swimming.

We played in the river a few hours, before returning to the lodge house for lunch (carne asada, homemade corn tortillas, pico de gaillo, and frijoles,) dancing, and horse riding. All in all, a pretty sweet day, as well as a great way to kick off the third quarter feeling pumped and refreshed.

Test Daze

Today was the first day of exams for the second quarter. My 8^th Grade world history exam was one of the first, and as anticipated, most of my kids did not turn in their homework or the two page research paper we have been working on ALL QUARTER. I actually turned one away because it was blatantly a copy/past job. I told the kid to re-write it tonight and hand it in in the morning for reduced credit…hopefully others will follow suit.

Many of the students came to me after the exam exclaiming how “easy” it was. I’ll be the judge of that! Grading shall commence…shortly (aka, as soon as I can bring myself to do it.) The plus side of having a lot of work to do is that I get my blogging done. And boy do I ever have work to do! Aside from needing to grade the world history finals…and papers…and late homeworks…just world history class in general, I also need to finalize my grades for art and activities classes (which are only slightly more promising than the world history grades) AND plan what I’m going to do for all three classes next quarter.

What is it going to take to motivate these kids? I even came into the review day dressed as a Celtic warrior, complete with torc, woad, spiked hair and kilt, and I still barely had anyone join me to study (I put the kilt on AT school, for fear of being shot for being a cross-dresser…you laugh, but it would probably happen)! I then got home early only to realize I had left my house keys at home (kilts don’t have pockets you see) and consequently spent the next three hours sitting on my front porch. I had to climb over the fence to do that, but it was worth it to get out of the sun.

It’s been warming up here you see. It’s actually very nice (mid seventies to eighties), and the cold bucket showers are now simply “brisk” instead of “oh look, a polar bear”. Just as well, because it took a long time to get all the hair gel out yesterday (spiked hair for the Celt costume remember? Are you paying attention?)

Anyway, this afternoon the faculty of the middle school sat down and discussed how to try and reach out to the kids. Maki and Angela are going to have day with the girls to try and teach them some self-respect and self-confidence (and boy do they need it), while Dan and I are trying to tackle the seemingly impossible task of teaching the boys a little self-control. I don’t want much from them (they are still in the throes of puberty after all), just enough to bring them up from “total anarchy” to “there’s light at the end of the tunnel”.

Dan suggested getting one of the local priests involved. I forget his name, but he is pretty young, and really good with the kids. We’re thinking of taking the guys for a day hike some place. There is some really nice scenery around here, and some male bonding would be good for these guys. Many have a poor, or no, father figure in their lives. Oh goodness, does that mean I have to be ready to fill that role? I think I could do an okay job, but many of these guy’s goal in life is to be on Jersey Shore, and I don’t know how to even begin to relate to that.

Two Bats with One Stone

As the quarterly exams loom ever closer, tensions continue to escalate. The battle is being waged on many fronts, and I would like to think that we are winning more than we are losing.

The most recent victory came in the form of a new classroom policy crafted by Maki. Following the visit of Jess, a volunteer from prior years, it was noted that our 7^th and 8^th grades are being out-Englished by the 5^th graders at the elementary school. This is not through any lack of intelligence on our student’s part, but a lack of drive. In all of their English-speaking classes, they speak Spanish unless addressing the teacher…and even then many of them don’t try very hard. I’ve had kids translating for their classmates before, or just walk away from me in disgust when I refuse to reply to them in Spanish. This laziness has resulted in increasingly bad English comprehension…which is a problem when you are supposed to be a bi-lingual school.

So Maki decided to bring down the hammer. From now on, the first time a student speaks Spanish in an English speaking class they get a warning. After that, if it happens again, the student has to stay in at recess and write 50 to 100 different sentences in English. All the spelling and grammar must then be corrected.  This new policy has been implemented with all the surgical precision of a tactical nuke, and the effects have been immediate.

The classroom suddenly feels more under control. Simply by walking past student, in a slow, ominous stroll, they busy themselves with their work and stop talking. I know they still talk Spanish when I’m not peering over their shoulder, but that just keeps me circulating the classroom. Another unexpected side effect is that the students talk a lot less than they used to. So not only is the classroom more orderly, but it’s quieter too!

Another resent windfall has been the discovery of the local movie theater! Well, it’s not so much a discovery (the place was pointed out to us the first week here), but we have found out that almost all of the movies are in English with Spanish subtitles! The kids movies are in Spanish, so no Megamind (unless I really feel like working on my Spanish), but I did get to see The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which I missed over my Christmas break.

Inside the theatre, one could almost believe that you were back in the United States, apart from two things. One is that the movies are definitely bootlegged (you can pick up a bootlegged move at any roadside stall…not that I have). The other thing is the nature watching. The theatre is quite large, and the ceiling is missing a few tiles. During the movie, you can watch small dark objects flitting across the screen.

There are bats in the cinema. At least you can enjoy the air conditioning mosquito-free!

Run Ratty, Run

Time to tie up some loose ends from earlier this week. First up, I do in fact now have a front door that both locks AND unlocks. It’s also really shiny and looks very out of place on our dingy old wooden door. Secondly, the teachers have had “the talk” regarding our problem students. They are getting one last chance to prove they are going to turn themselves around.

Each kid has to give an individual presentation to Maki, telling her why they should be allowed to stay at the school. They also have to show a marked improvement in their classes (as reported by ALL their teachers), and cannot fail as many, or more classes than they did last quarter. If they don’t change, then Maki has the transfer forms to the other schools in the city. Lucky for us, the Honduran school year starts in about three weeks (running from February through October), so now is an opportune moment to make our trouble-makers someone else’s problem. It seems a little harsh, but at least this way they are still getting a chance at furthering their education, and they might even fair better at an all-Spanish speaking school.

The first week back after Christmas was surprisingly good actually. The kids were surprisingly sedate, and we actually managed to get work done! Several of the problem kids are actually making an effort, which is probably the best belated Christmas present I could have asked for. Friday even managed to end on a high note, with a record number of kids shoeing up for art club, and all of them actually PARTICIPATING!

So now it’s Saturday. The sun is shining, it is a blissful 82 degrees outside, with low humidity, and the air is relatively dust free (thank goodness for all the rain over Christmas break.)

But just so as you don’t think I’m becoming complacent, check out this little misadventure I had one unsuspecting night before Christmas. Lacey got a call around 10pm from a hysterical Brigit, insisting that Jeff and I came over at once. Watch the video to find out why…

Oh, and yes, I am dual-wielding a short sword and a machete.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyCNPxC6zkY

Inverse problem

I’m free…kinda. Carlos sent some people over, who managed to get the door open. I am now free to leave the house. Or at least I would be if it were not for the gaping hole in my door where the lock once was. You see, to get the door to yield to us, we had to utilize a finely tuned instrument of surgical precision…a hammer. I intend to keep the pieces of the lock as a trophy.

So now the door is open for all to come and go…which is now the problem. I can’t exactly leave the house like this for anyone to enter and pillage. So now I have to stay and wait for the crew to come back with a new lock. One of the guys stayed behind, but as I don’t speak Spanish, and he can’t understand English, we aren’t exactly good company.

My English nature is compelling me to offer the bloke a cup of tea, but I have no way to offer him one short of mime!

I'm Trapped and I can't get Out!!!

No really, I cannot physically leave the house. I woke up late this morning, as the career-improvement day doesn’t start until 10am. My housemates had already left for school as the elementary classes did start today. I enjoyed a leisurely lie in, brushed my teeth, made a pot of tea, and then finally decided to open the front door to allow in the unusually fair morning.

But the door wouldn't budge.

Something must have happened when Jeff and Lacey left for school this morning, because the deadbolt simply will not unlock! I even tried taking the whole contraption apart and turning it with a screwdriver...still it refused to move.

I called Maki over to see if she would have any better luck from the outside. She first had to climb over the fence, as the gate was locked as well, and then we had to co-ordinate putting the lock back together. Finally all was in place, and I handed Maki the key through the window. She inserted it into the lock and turned...and turned...and turned...

We are pretty sure that the lock is bust.

So here I am, sitting alone on the sofa with a cup of tea, unable to leave the house. Carlos is supposedly trying to find a carpenter, but according to Maki, he doesn’t currently have his truck, so I don't expect recue any time soon. Maki had to leave to go to the career-improvement thingy, so I'm all on my lonesome now.

I suppose I'll do some lesson planning, although it is VERY tempting to put on a movie (thanks to Dad my laptop now plays movies, WOOHOO!) I was moaning about Christmas break ending too soon. I really should learn to be more careful about what I wish for.

Mr. Grinch

So here I am again. After a much needed Christmas vacation, I and the other volunteers are back in dusty old Juticalpa for the spring go around.

Christmas was wonderful! I ate fancy food (not an egg in sight!), took long, hot showers, and relished every dirt-free breath. I also found myself complaining whenever the subject of Honduras came up. Even by the end of my two week reprieve (especially by the end of the two weeks, as the start of school loomed ever closer,) I found myself hard pressed for nice things to say about my experiences to date. During the flight back I felt quite guilty about my whole attitude towards Honduras.

It didn’t help that my flight took me on a brief tour of Central America, stopping at both El Salvador and Guatemala airports. I couldn’t help but notice that both places seemed much cleaner and better organized than Honduras. From the air, the cities looked quite pleasant, especially Guatemala City with its modern looking skyscrapers and fountains. The city streets fanned out in an open, inviting manner, and I found myself wishing that I had the time to stop and look about the city. Tegucigalpa in contrast grew out from the landing strip like a grimy fungus, buildings sometimes literally overlapping each other on the mountain slopes. There doesn’t seem to be any plan to the city, just dingy, grey structures piled haphazardly one on the other.

When we finally arrived back in Juticalpa, it looked as though the house had been abandoned for months. Spider webs filled the corners of the rooms, and everything was covered in a thick layer of brown dust. It took all Monday to clean it up and make the place livable. Thankfully it was raining the day before, so we are able to breathe…for the meantime at least.

I really wish I could get excited about being back. The next two weeks are going to be crazy, with the end of the second quarter nearly hear already! Art and Activities shouldn’t be too hard to get going again, but World History is going to be a mad dash to the finish line. While the group projects are going great (overall), I’m not sure if the kids are really going to be ready for the final. I haven’t been giving them worksheets like I was last quarter, since they’ve been researching for their projects, and I didn’t want to do their work for them. But now I’m worried that they aren’t actually learning the stuff outside their own topics.

You see, last year didn’t really end on a good note, which I’m guessing is why I was such a Grinch about school over Christmas break. While many of the groups did a good job on their presentations, it mostly felt like regurgitated information. Nobody (with a few exceptions) actually KNEW their topic, and many of the kids didn’t listen to the presentations (which was how they were supposed to learn the other topics). And then there were the handful of students who simply didn’t care about the project. I had about five students who simply didn’t present, refusing to get up to help their group. A couple even walked off during the presentations, leaving their teammates to pick up the slack.

How do you cope with that? When you have done everything you can think of to make the class interesting, you’ve spent hours making rubrics and direction sheets to help the students, and then they just walk out on you, telling you they don’t care? Just thinking about it is soul draining.

I try to think of the students that did work hard, of how great their presentations were. But I know that they could have done so much better if these other students hadn’t eaten up so much of my time, simply trying to get them to crack a book or pick up a pencil.

The end of the second quarter is almost here, and a hard decision MUST be made. Do we go against every instinct as an educator and cut these students loose? Or do we give them another chance, and try to step up our game in the next quarter?

I have already made my decision, as much as I don’t like it. Tomorrow we have a day to prepare for the start of school, and I am going to try and force the issue. For the sake of the other students, someone has got to be the mean one.