The blind, lead by the blind, lead by the dosn't-quite-speak-English A.K.A. Oh what have I gotten myself into now?

Today was supposed to be fairly easy...well, for me at least. I would spend a quiet day at the school working on lesson plans, and then return home to do the dishes. All that did end up happening, but with a few unwelcome additions (as is the way of things).

First if all, it was anything but quiet. There is some sort of work being done on the soon-to-be teacher's office, and it involves a lot of power tools. We had to keep pausing the meeting to wait for them to finish drilling. However, this pales in comparison to the news we all received regarding a prospective student named Micheal. After meeting Micheal and his mother, Maki (the coordinator) showed them around the school and had a talk with Micheal's mother regarding our expectations. They are not high to say the least. Maki made it clear that there was very little chance that Micheal would pass, in fact we all rather expect him to fail.

Now I know that sounds horrible to cast judgement like that, but this is why. Micheal is blind. Not only that, but he also has some sort of mental disability. Sadly, this is not on paper, and Micheal's mother is in MAJOR denial about the whole thing. The fact remains that we are just not equipped (or trained) in how to handle this. Micheal needs special care and attention, which we cannot give him. Even Nazareth (the school for the mentally handicapped also run by the Olancho Aid Foundation), said that they did not have the training to take him. The only place that could is three hours drive from here in the capital city, Tegucigalpa!

Much to all our chagrin, Micheal's mother was absolutely determined to have him in the school...and Maki said ok. I'm not sure I would have had the heart to turn him down either. The issue is, that Micheal's parents recently got divorced. The father got all the money, and the mother got the blind, mentally handicapped child. Does that strike you as fair? Of course I don't know the whole story, but still. Micheal's mother just got a new job to try and support him, and had assumed that we were going to accept him into the school. It seems that his prior teachers have been pity passing him, so that he could get his 6th grade education (this is a HUGE deal in Honduras; they literally get more dressed up that we do in the states for most weddings!), so his doting mother thinks that he can do anything the other kids his age can. So we have taken him on, on the condition that he keeps his grades up and participates in class. There is pretty much no chance of this, since this is like asking a man with one leg and a heart murmur to run a marathon. Maki says that at least this way the mother will have a chance to find something else for Micheal, but this does mean that we are stuck babysitting for the next month or so. It sounds cold, but that is basically what we are doing.

In happier news, the afternoon commute home continues to be an adventure. Having been dropped off in the center of town twice now (once with a very large, very heavy box), I was not too surprised when it happened again. This time was in a slightly different place then before, but I was confidant that I could make it home. But then I was greeted by a friendly tap on the shoulder, and turned to see Hermando, the gardener at the high school! he asked me (in Spanish, with a sprinkling of English) if I knew my way home, and could he help me get there...at least I'm pretty sure that is what he said. I replied (in English with a scattering of very broken Spanish) that I would love some help getting home.

I should point out that I know Hermando from the first day of orientation at the high school, where he and I were partnered up to try and overcome the language barrier and to introduce one another to the group. He seemed like a friendly chap, at least from what I could understand, and it would seem that my trust was not misplaced, as here I am safe and sound.

Of course, halfway through the walk home, I was not so confident. We walked through a part of the city I had not been through before, and I was terrified for a moment that the reference to "casa" was for his home, rather than mine. The other volunteers did say that the Hondurans were friendly and would invite us over alot. "Oh good grief" I thought, "what happens when I get there? I'm going to have to have a conversation, and my Spanish can only improve so quickly! What if he wants to introduce me to his family? What if those guys on the corner want to beat us up and take our money? What if Hermando wants to beat me up and steal my money?" By this point I had lost my orientation, and no longer knew were I was. So it was with great relief that I recognized the health clinic at the corner of our street, and made a mental note that there were some very pretty vistas from down that road. Hermando is a pretty nice guy. He even tried to make a bit of conversation in broken English.

I shall wrap up this blog with something fun...geckos! They are everywhere, indoors and out, usually high on a wall, and today at lunch I got to watch them hunting bugs on the screen of one of the high windows in the school. They have this almost supernatural ability to jump off the wall as if their center of gravity had shifted 90 degrees. I even saw two of them play tug of war with a bug one of them had caught. It was one of the most adorable things I have ever seen!