It’s 8:47 pm on Thanksgiving night and I lumber off the bus, my stomach three-and-a-half times the size it was just hours before. In my hands is a pot of army green-looking mush, which kind of looks like a Florida Wetland without the mangroves trees holding it together.
Teaching 25 small children English for seven hours a day in a hot classroom where tears and didn’t-quite-make-it-to-the-bathroom moments are not infrequent is stressful in itself. I’ve had students spin around in a circle so fast that they throw up at snack and students wet their pants back-to-back in the middle of a math lesson.
My Saturdays fall into two categories now that I’m a kindergarten teacher: either I do a lot or I do a whole lot of nothing. After a long, hot week of teaching, my body still wakes me up around 6:00 am (and if habit doesn’t get me, the rooster next door does). I usually do my laundry, eat breakfast, catch up on emails and messages.
It has been occurring to me recently, as I’m sure it has occurred to many of you, that time never feels like it is passing in the amount that it actually is. That is to say, it feels like a month since I’ve written, when it has only been a couple of weeks.
Monday night was Cofradia’s Desfile de Antorchas. For people that don’t speak Spanish and don’t want to put that into Google Translate, that means The Torch Parade. Every school in the presiding area comes together and meets on what seems like a random street corner where the parade starts.
After kicking off the year with a mysterious 24-hour fever, I’ve got four days of first grade under my belt. Two were good, two not so much. A pretty average week. Teaching is a literal roller coaster ride. Here I was thinking that going into my second year, things would be a million times easier.
It’s 6:45 am on a balmy Honduran morning. You know those days; when you wake up and can taste the droplets of humidity on your tongue. The wisps of clouds that snuck onto the sky during the night persist into the morning; giving you hope that perhaps today will be just a little cooler.
Just when they thought they had graduated, BECA’s 2014-2015 volunteer teachers find themselves back in their old University lives. Opening its doors as a 5 week a year institution, the halls of “University of BECA” welcomed its newest class of recruits just a short few weeks ago.
Today Mr. Ben, the (formerly) second grade teacher at ADJ left. After arriving in Cofradia last night, he caught an early flight from San Pedro and is probably at home in the States by now. He was the first teacher to leave and with him starts the great exodus of BECA teachers from Honduras. It was the first goodbye of many to come.
*Just kidding. It’s a pretty big problem.
My Saturday morning routine: wake up early because my body is always on the school schedule, make a large cup of coffee, throw my dirty, sweaty week’s worth of clothes in the washer, and wait to hang it up, enjoying the peace and quiet before my roommates and the rest of Cofradia wakes up.