Quite a bit has happened since the last time that I wrote. My student whose father was murdered never returned to school. They had to flee town because the grudge turned into a family vendetta (Ol' West style), and several of their family members were murdered. Things have finally calmed down, though, and the family was able to return to town a couple of weeks ago. The kids will be back at the school in August. My plans have changed, as well. My principal told me just over a month ago that he had been talking with parents about the following school year, and there was very little interest in the Nursery class (the class size has been shrinking each year since it started). He offered me the K4 position, but I really didn't want to start over with a new grade level and curriculum expectations again. I had been hoping for two years of consistent experience here before moving back to the States to start over new, but I guess that's just not how things were supposed to happen. I contacted the Synodical Placement Office as soon as I realized that I wouldn't be coming back, had several interviews with a few different schools, and was extended a call by one of those schools within a month of my realizing I even had to look for another job.
While it's wonderful to know what I'll be doing next year, I have really mixed emotions about leaving. I'm thrilled to be close enough again to family and friends that I could hop in my car in the morning and see people by lunch time, and I'm grateful to be present for and more active in things like weddings, new babies, and just life in general. I'm especially excited to start my new preschool teaching position and get settled into life in another new city. All of this excitement, though, does not change the sadness of leaving this place. Honduras has been my life for the past year and a half. It has been really challenging and frustrating at times and hasn't always been pleasant, but I have appreciated every moment of it. I've become very attached to the culture, the places I've lived, and the people I've gotten to know -- especially my students. I've had a knot in my chest almost every day this past week as I stand and wave to my kids while their bus pulls away. It's so hard to believe that I only have a few more chances to see them and that, next year, someone else will be tying their shoes, answering their questions, giving them hugs, and showing them that they're loved and cared for.
I'll be moving back the US a different person from the fresh college graduate that I was in December 2011. I'm still me -- just as awkward, clumsy, and in love with midnight IHOP runs as ever -- but I understand and interpret life differently than before. I view culture, politics, religion, and humanity through a different set of eyes: one that has taken in life outside of the cozy Chicago suburbs. My faith has been challenged more than ever, and I have a new appreciation for the various lessons that I had been resistant to learning before. When I go home I'll be leaving a piece of my heart here, but I'll do so with the confidence that it will scar over: healed but permanently changed.
My thoughts and prayers will always be with my kids. To those of you who have been sending prayers and good vibes my way from the start, I ask that you continue doing so for my students. Thank you for supporting me for the past year and a half, and I look forward to reconnecting with you back in the States.
Love,
Kim
