The Down Side of Silver Lining

This last weekend I and three other volunteers were invited to attend the wedding of Alfredo, the Honduran music teacher at the school. It was to take place at Alfredo’s prospective parent-in-law’s farm high in the Honduran mountains. Apparently it was a two hour drive from Juticalpa, so Friday afternoon found me riding in the back of a truck with three other guys, two VERY large speakers for the wedding, as well as the groom himself. The vistas which spread out before us as we climbed higher and higher up the red dirt road were breathtaking.

We continued to drive deeper into the mountains as the daylight faded. The gray, heavy clouds came closer, enveloping the looming mountain tops in the twilight.

Soon after, it started to rain.

Now, bear in mind that I was sitting in the back of a pick-up truck, high in the mountains, in December. In no time at all I was soaked to the bone and shivering. As we went higher the rain eased up…not because it was raining any less but because it has less distance to fall. In fact pretty soon we were IN the clouds. As I said in the title of this blog, there is a problem with cloud “silver lining”, and that problem is that it’s very WET and very COLD. I couldn’t believe that there was any higher to go, but every bend in the road revealed another peak to climb.

About an hour and half into the ride we could no longer see the mountains around us. We could barely see 30 feet from the truck for that matter.

Then I looked up from our huddle in the truck bed and saw…nothing. Literally there was NOTHING beyond two feet from the truck. Daring to peer over the edge I realized that we were now driving along the ridge of the mountain (which also explained why the wind had picked up), and there was nothing but a sheer slope on either side of the truck. If it had been a clear day the view would have been phenomenal.

Eventually we arrived at the farm and disembarked. Wishing for nothing more than a hot meal and a bed, I was not overly thrilled to discover that Alfredo had had an ulterior motive for inviting me. He wanted me to utilize my artistic talents to arrange flowers for the table centerpieces.

Thankfully we did get something to warm us up. Two things actually. First was a hot plate of tortillas, beans, and MEAT! Turns out that in preparation for the impending nuptials that in-laws had, quite literally, slaughtered the fatted calf. And man was the fatted calf tasty! We washed the beefy goodness down with another warming substance, Plata. These two things cheered my up enough that I didn’t mind arranging flowers for the next few hours.

 The wedding the next day was fun. Full Catholic service plus the ceremony, followed by more beef, and loud music. Sadly, I could not enjoy the festivities, what with suddenly coming down with a nasty case of stomach flu. Needless to say, the ride home was not fun (although we did get to see the great views by daylight).

It’s now Thursday and I’m only just over the flu. We had Wednesday off for some local festival which takes place this time of year. I was just glad to have a day to sleep in. The countdown to Christmas break is now in full swing, and I cannot WAIT to go home. But before that we have a big Christmas community service project and some major presentations due in World History, so I’m not allowed to tune out yet.

Anyone who wants to come see me in at the airport, I’ll be flying in at 9:30 on the 18^th to Dulles, DC. Let’s re-enact the end of Love Actually!

Bitter Ends and New Beginnings

It’s barely a week into the second quarter, and I can already feel some major changes setting in. We have a new schedule (I now have World History three times a week for 40 minutes) which is proving to be a MUCH better arrangement. The weather has been beautiful, I have some great ideas for my classes, and La Colonia (the fancy grocery store in town) has frozen turkeys! This means we don’t have to go all the way to the capital city (a three hour ride by bus) to get our Thanksgiving meal (which we are having on Sunday for some reason).

 I must admit to being a little put out about having Thanksgiving on a Sunday. It means that I have to worry about being ready to get up early and tech the next day, which I feel will severely detract from the whole food-coma experience. There seems to have been some sort of dispute about when and where the great feeding was to take place, so I can only assume that this is the best arrangement for all concerned, and be content with getting a Thanksgiving at all. Goodness knows there are bigger things to worry about…

…for instance the imminent departure of our dear Megan, a fellow volunteer who works in the organizations office. She is heading home for a shoulder operation, and makes her the second volunteer to leave us (the first I have not blogged about due to the private nature of their departure, which I have no intension of blaring out all over the internet.) Tonight we are getting together to say goodbye, which is a great excuse to eat at the taco stand near Megan’s house (which is delicious…the tacos, not her house.)

On the matter of school things are getting…interesting. The parent teacher conferences last weekend went pretty well all things considered (exactly 50% of the kids parents showed up, which is a marked improvement over the beginning of the year.) Most of them were really concerned about their kid’s performances, many of which were abysmal. I am fairly certain that most of the parents had no idea how their children were doing, due almost entirely to the fact that the kids are in the habit of lying through their teeth about their homework (that will soon be changing as we are implementing school wide homework journals, which have to be signed by both the teachers and the parents.)

Meanwhile, in the classrooms, the battle between good and evil is reaching high school soap-opera levels of intensity! We have our hopefuls and near hopeless causes, good girls gone bad, bad boys making a turn around, bullies, budding artists, and enough drama to choke a Honduran street dog (which can, and will, eat ANYTHING!)! A few kids may soon be leaving the cast of our little theatre, while at the same time we are greeting a few new faces.

The biggest change though, for me at least, has been in me. Today on the bus ride to school, I looked up from my morning reading (“Brimstone” by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child) and saw the mountains basking in the sun, draped in the last vestiges of mist. It was truly breathtaking, and I thought “that is what I came down here to see.” But as soon as I thought this, another image popped into my head. The day before, seeing my students in 8A actually getting excited about their research topics in World History. And the way their faces lit up when I showed them how to draw a cube in perspective, and they felt that amazing sense of accomplishment when the little box took shape on the page as if by magic. I remember that feeling back when I was first learning how to draw. And those feelings, that excitement for learning something new; it was MY ideas that gave it to them, my teaching that helped them to achieve that goal.

The mountains didn’t seem quite so spectacular anymore.

Making (Up) the Grade

What is with the school system down here? I spent three hours this morning putting my final grades for the first quarter together in nice neat Excel spreadsheets, only to discover that there is some special “official” spreadsheet that I have to use! This one is for the Department of Olancho (a Honduran department is the rough equivalent of a US state, in case you’d forgotten.)

Now, one would think that all I would have to do is copy and paste all the grades into the appropriate cells and be done with it. Any REASONABLE person would expect to have to report their student’s final PERCENTAGE grade. But no, in Olancho the powers that be think that it’s best for grades to be submitted with their point value. Oh, and the total number of point MUST be out of 100. This means scaling all of my World History grades down to the appropriate levels, as the final point count in that class was out of 114.

And of course, because that was just not simple enough, the final exam grade had to be included in the point count…and EVERY class is required to have an exam grade, including my Art and Activities classes which, guess what, didn’t have an exam.

And so it was with a malicious glee and resounding resentment that I spent the afternoon re-calculating my grade book to fit the Honduran system of measurement. Oh the final grades came out the same for both our school (which, sensibly, uses percentages) and the Department forms in the end, but I did have to make up imaginary test grades for over 60 children.

Long Daze, Long Nights

                Where am I? What’s going on? As predicted the time has flown by and I can’t believe that it is already the end of the first quarter. Last week was exams, of which I only had to give one (World History), which I got out of the way on Monday. After that I made my escape and fled the country for a few days. Two close friends of mine were considerate enough to get married last weekend, giving me a perfect excuse to go home (thanks Kasey and Alex, and congrats to you both!)

Upon arriving home at 1:30am my first order of business was to stand in a hot shower for at least an hour. Afterwards I collapsed into my own bed for the first time in MONTHS. I swear I almost cried I was so happy.

Waking up the next morning was the weirdest feeling. Where had I been for the last three months? Was I really in Honduras? It all seemed like a dream (probably induced by the anti-malaria drugs I had been taking). I felt like no time had gone by at all. Except that is had, and it was now late autumn instead of late summer.

I spent the following days pretending that Honduras didn’t exist, and eating every burger I could lay my hands on (may I recommend the smokehouse burger at Bob Evans with a side of sweet potato fries. Yum!) The wedding was a great fun (I got the best seat in the house…behind the podium so I could see the bride walk down the aisle. I was the efficient btw.) I relished the food and drink at the reception, and made a complete fool of myself on the dance floor.

But Sunday found me back in Honduras, which was as dusty and full of loud noises as ever. I have decided that there is some kind of break in the flow of time between here and in the US. It feels like I have been away from Honduras for ages (which is good cuz’ if my time home had felt like a dream I may have just turned around and got back on the plane.) It’s sort of like going to Narnia, except it’s eternally summer instead of winter and there aren’t any talking animals…unless you count the occasional parrot.

The school is undergoing some MAJOR changes. We re-organized the classes (8B is now pretty awesome to teach, and 8A has grown in its ability to drive me insane), and we changed the schedule to have shorter classes more often during the week. I now teach World History for 40 minutes three times a week, which is already proving to be a better layout for the kids. Honestly they can’t focus for much more than 40 minutes on anything other than talking or soccer.

We also welcome Michael back to school. He had left the school over a month ago due to a problem with a tube in the back of his head. It helps to drain fluid from his brain and it had become blocked up. As scary as it was, it would have been simpler if Michael had stayed at home. He is WAY behind everyone else now, and I have no idea what to do with him in Art and Activities. His mom is actually looking at sending him to another school (all Spanish speaking, which is great because I don’t think that Michael understands much English), but some nosey busybody decided to stick their nose where it didn’t belong.

This particular olfactory intrusion is some woman that apparently has some kind of vendetta against our organization. I don’t know much, but I gather that she has tried to sue is on multiple occasions, and that she saw Michael as just one more of those opportunities. And so, Michael is back with us, at least for the time being.

It’s only Tuesday, but it feels like Friday I’m so exhausted. From the moment I left home to return to Honduras I was traveling for 16 hours. Then I had to teach the next morning, AND try and do all the lesson planning for the new quarter that I should have done last week. And the grading system on the computer still isn't working and grade are due by Thursday. And we have parent teacher conferences on Saturday, of which I have heard nothing but horror stories. Oh, and the maintenance guys are re-painting the teacher’s lounge and the paint fumes are not helping matters.

At least the weather is nice so I can sit outside.

Urgent Message

We interupt my previously planned blog post for this urgent announcment reguarding another person at the Olancho Aid Foundation Silvia Sanchez, a janitor at Escuela Nazareth, our school for the handicapped:

"On Saturday her 21 year old son was run over by an automobile leaving his legs in a very critical state with more than two fractures in each leg.  He was transferred early Sunday morning to Tegucigalpa.  The doctors are asking that Silvia and her family parchase the pins he needs to have implanted in an attempt to save his legs; it will cost Lps. 10,800.00 each legs including other costs that his recuperation may incur."

To trans;ate the gravity of the situation, there are about 18 lempiras to every US dollar. This means that each of the pins is going to run about $600, which is about how much I currently make in three months! Any help that can be given would be wonderful (and completely voluntary as I have no idea of the rules reguarding talking about this on the internet).

So lets just say that you are aware of the situation, that Silvia is in need of assistancce, and that you know my parents who have the ability to wire me any charity which is given in the spirit of generosity (and in no way petitioned from yours truly)  ;)

Barking Mad

It’s  4:30 am on a Sunday and I can’t sleep because the neighbor’s dog won’t shut up. I swear I am going to make myself a new fur rug for my room (once I’ve bleached it of course).

I don’t know where the time is going. The weeks are just going by in a blur of insanity and screaming children. Actually it’s not the kids screaming, it’s me. Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday) a bunch of kids were throwing rocks at our house and I just lost it. I have to deal with disrespectful snotty kids all day, I was tired, and I was not going to take it in my own home. I charged out the front door, red in the face, screaming at the little monsters at the top of my lungs. The result was the kids vanishing in a VERY satisfying and somewhat comical dust cloud. Turns out that one of the kids is in Jeff’s class, and I seem to have made quite an impression on them.

Of course Wednesday night they were back, but by then I was feeling much more rational. I knew screaming at them again would just be what they wanted this time, and I had no intention of humoring them. I was about to go out and talk to them, but Jeff beat me to the punch. He thought that the “good cop, bad cop” routine would be a good thing to try. He was right, we haven’t had a problem since.

Well, I should say we haven’t had a problem since at the house. My students reached yet another all-time low this week, with at least three of the teachers at the school almost losing it with the students (myself included). After the little beasts have gone home, the general sentiment is “what’s the point in lesson planning when I spend 95% of the class just trying to get the kids to sit down and listen.”

Our mood was not improved by the week before last when we had a “teaching development” program, where a bunch of teachers from California came down to teach us about teaching. This was a waste of time on two fronts. First, we ended the school day early for us to go to the class, and the kids, who are rowdy under normal conditions, became uncontrollable when they found out that they were getting an early release. It would have been more productive to just cancel school for the week. Second, the teachers had NO IDEA what we needed. Oh I’m sure that all the stuff about lesson planning and group learning would be very useful in an American classroom, but here it was about as useful to us as a cleaning the kitchen with sugar (imagine the size of THOSE cockroaches!) Honestly, most of what they talked about I was already from the orientation at the beginning of the school year, and I don’t have a degree in this. The volunteers with actual teaching experience had it even worse.

TO top it off, the head of the CA group was abrasive, rude, demeaning, and had NO sense of humor. Apparently the dislike was mutual, as she thought we were inconsiderate and racist (honestly, you say “meester” once in class, and you’re pegged as a white supremacist.)

I could go on, but if I do this post will be ten pages long. I’ll spare the gory details for any who care to listen when I get back.

On a lighter note, I faced up to my childhood fear of beng hit in the head with fast moving objects on Thursday! We had our Friday futbol (soccer) game a day early as Friday was a national holiday (yes, another one). At one point the ball flew high into the air and started coming down strait at me. Time suddenly slowed down as I watched that black and white sphere slowly grow larger in my field of vision. “This is it” I thought “time to man up, face the music, take one for the team. You can do Andrew, you can OW!” One concussion later I was wearing a very goofy grin and having a trouble walking strait, but at least I headed the ball in the right direction!

I shall end this post with another installment of “Iron Chef: Honduras”. Today’s secret ingredient, frijoles!

Re-fried red beans are a staple protein in Honduras, and are much tastier than the yellow-brown ones we get in the states. I don’t know if it’s the different bacteria down here or what, but they also don’t have quite the same…um…“effect” as re-fried beans in the US.

Frijoles are an essential ingredient in baleadas, a popular dish in Honduras (it may be the national dish for all I know). You wrap a tortilla with frijoles, scrambled egg, sliced avocado, cheese, and mantequilla (I think that’s how you spell it) which is a sort of cross between cheese and sour cream. The best baleadas are the ones where the tortillas and frijoles are home-made. I intend to track down the recipe for both before I leave.

Well, the dog seems to FINALLY shut up, so I’m gonna crash. Let’s hope this week proves better than the last two…an unlikely even what with a rather sore topic rapidly approaching. Halloween.

More on that later.

Iron Chef Honduras: Grittin' your teeth

So I survived the week, and the weekend for that matter. Some of the other volunteers and I hiked up a nearby mountain called Boqueron. Beautiful views, but I am a bit sore today. We have Monday off on account of it being Columbus Day (a Honduran national holiday) so I got to sleep in. Thankfully no one set off fireworks at 3 am to celebrate this time.

The week to come should be relatively uneventful as we have half days in order to receive training from a group of teachers coming in from California. I hope they know something about uphill battles and how to avoid total mental breakdown in the classroom.

Anyhow, I thought I would take this opportunity to bring you a few posts I would like to call “Iron Chef: Honduras”. Here I will attempt to take you through the gastronomical side of my adventures, and the colorful local cuisine! I may even finally stop being lazy and try to post a few photos (this entails using another computer, as mine apparently can’t handle the resolution on my new camera), and maybe use it as an excuse to eat out a bit.

Today’s special ingredient is…DIRT!

That’s right. A major part of every diet down here, either from lack of running water or not-entirely-clean cooking surfaces (you try to keep all the dust out of the kitchen!) you are guaranteed to have your daily mineral requirement with every meal. Currently you will receive all the minerals you need with each breath, as we have not had rain in over a week and most of the nearby roads are not paved. You literally leave your house in the morning, and by the time you get home anything left in the common room is covered in a fine layer of brown dust. As several of our window slats (glass panes which open in the same way as wooden shutters) we cannot actually stop the constant insurgence of grime. I swear I washed the table on Saturday and already you can draw a smiley face on it with your finger.

I find that dust pairs best with Plata, a brand of cheap rum you can buy in most places in Honduras. The Plata masks the flavor of the dust, and with enough of it you forget that all the dust in your mouth makes it feel like you haven’t brushed your teeth in three days.