For the past year, I have lived in a country that is plagued by poverty and infamous for having the world's highest murder rate. I can anticipate a child's begging for my meal scraps when I go into town to eat, and I've been sharply awoken by the sound of gunshots on multiple occasions. I have lived next door to the untouchable drug lord and heard about the murders of the lawyers and police officers who stood up against the wrongdoing. Because I grew up in an idyllic, family-friendly Chicago suburb, it is easy to look around myself and polarize the United States with the developing world. On a more cynical day, I may even criticize Americans for their blissful unawareness of those outside their world. Social awareness has become chic, lately, and I have occasionally found myself falling in with the socially aware bandwagon who touts their privy to the world's condition through "first world problems" memes and tweets.
The past few days have rocked me, though. I got home from school on Friday and heard about Sandy Hook. My heart broke as I read all of the articles I could find, listened to the police statements to the press, and watched the President wipe away tears and pause to compose himself as he addressed the nation. I then watched the barrage of facebook comments ensue, somehow turning this tragedy into a war.
Humanity is so far from perfection, regardless of the country in which you live or the worldview that you use to explain it all. We are all hurting. We are all broken. We are all imperfect. Yes, of course there are different levels and severities of suffering, but it is something that we all deal with. Do not look at these things with the defeatest attitude that, "Well this is shit, so screw it." We need to use tragedies like this as a reminder to love people in whatever way we can. Help who we can. Make change where we can. No, we're not going to stop all the bad things from happening, but for God's sake, don't just resign yourself to its inevitibility, and please don't aggrevate the tragedy with pointless, ill-thought facebook tirades that accomplish nothing. DO something. Even if it is just in your immediate circle of influence, it matters.
But, what do I know? I'm just a 20 something with a laptop.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Vacation Adventures
You never know exactly what you're agreeing to in Honduras. In case none of my previous blog posts convinced you of this, perhaps this one will.
We had the last two Mondays off of school because of a couple of random holidays, so the other teachers and I took two weekend vacations. Last weekend, we went to Tela, a little Caribbean beach town, and stayed at a beachside resort. In October, the resort offers a deal to people with accounts at Banco Atlantida, the bank that the ALCS teachers use. If you buy one night, you get the next night free. With four of us sharing a room, that came out to be $20 a night for each of us. The resort was beautiful! It had a huge pool with a water slide and a poolside bar, several restaurant options, and a beachfront. We spent 2 days swimming in the ocean or pool, soaking in the sunshine, and just relaxing. It was exactly the break we all needed after making it through the first couple of months of the school year.
This past weekend, we decided to go to Lake Yojoa, a large lake in the middle of Honduras. The first day we got there, we hung around the hotel and checked out the lake a little bit, and then we headed to D&D Brewery for dinner. This place is owned by an American guy, so it offers some American style food and drinks (which, when you've been living off of Honduran food for this long, is a big deal). We were all worn out from the traveling, so we got back to the hotel after dinner and went straight to bed. The early bedtime was a wise choice, considering the following day's activities. Some of the teachers from La Union had gone to the lake a few weeks earlier and toured a waterfall. It sounded like a lot of fun, so we looked the place up in our guidebooks and and headed there on Sunday. Now, the guidebook warned that it was a slippery, treacherous hike and people had literally fallen to their death there. We figured that we'd be fine, though, as long as we paid for a tour guide instead of just stupidly going out on our own. I was naively picturing some sort of artificially carved out tunnel complete with non-skid flooring and handrails. Now, here was the flaw in my logic: we're not in the U.S. We're in Honduras, a country where safety standards are scarce, and people are responsible for their own safety rather than an adventure tour company being liable. We had all packed our things in one backpack, but they told us that they didn't recommend our bringing a backpack with because we would probably be wet at least up to our chests or shoulders. I mistakenly thought they meant that we'd be wet from splashing water, not from being immersed in water, but I'm getting ahead of myself. We left our backpack in the office without signing any sort of waiver and headed over to the waterfall with the Rafael, the tour guide. As Rafael began leading us up a narrow, muddy trail with a steep drop to the side, we quickly realized that this would be a bit different from what we'd expected. We continued on over some large boulders, until we reached a point where the boulders ended and there was a good 10 foot expanse of chest-level water with the falling water crashing down over it. We all held hands, slid off the rock, waded across to the next set of boulders, and climbed up. We waited there until the whole group of 14 (11 of us and 3 other tourists) was standing up on the rock. The air was so thick with the spray and mist from the crashing water that we could barely breathe, and we were instructed to breathe only through our mouths. It seemed like my whole body was vibrating with how much adrenaline was pumping through me, and I felt like I was hyperventilating (though I wasn't sure If I was actually hyperventilating as a result of the fear, or if it was actually just the sharply decreased amount of oxygen that was available with all of the water in the air). It was at this point that I realized I'd made a mistake. I am a clumsy, awkward individual, and adventure sports are not in my repertoire. I was a little nervous that I would kill myself or someone else, so I began the following dialogue with Rafael:
Me: "Um, is it too later to turn back?"
Rafael: *pause with surprised expression* "Yes."
Me: "Oh. Does it get worse than this?"
Rafael: *pause* "A little."
Me: "Oh."
Rafael: "Would you feel better if you were the first person in line so you can hold on to my hand?"
Me: "Yes."
This is the moment I decided I would marry a waterfall tour guide. But I digress. With my hand tightly grasping his, Rafael led us off of the boulders and back into the water. This was by far the scariest part of the tour. At this point, I was almost up to my chin in water, and the waterfall was actually falling straight down onto my head. I could not see. I could not breathe. I just followed the tug from Rafael's hand as he pulled me up to another landing of boulders. Rafael told me to climb up to the top and wait there while everyone else was coming. He'd broken the group up into 2 groups of 7 to get everyone across more easily, so we waited up on top of the boulders for about 10 minutes as he went back and then got everyone else across. These were the longest 10 minutes of my life, as I stood there shaking, gasping for breath, thinking about the Bible verse tattooed on my back, repeating a short prayer over and over and over again, and seriously contemplating the consequences of just pooping my pants. Finally, though, everybody was across and we grabbed hands once again as we climbed off the boulders, continued through another stretch of water, and then crawled up into a tiny opening of a small cave. Once we were all squezed into the cave, we caught our breath, took a few pictures, and collected ourselves enough to do it all over again. We crawled back out and then trekked down the path we'd just come through. The return went by much faster, and I was soon climbing up out of the water and back across the narrow, muddy path along the cliff. After about 30 minutes, I had stopped shaking, my heart was back to a normal speed, and my limbs had stopped tingling. I bought a popsicle and continued about my evening -- like an adult.
Would I hike the waterfall again? Absolutely not. I am, however, happy that I did it once. I'm not sure if I would have wanted a better idea of what I was getting myself into or not, seeing as I probably would have turned the opportunity down if I'd known what it entailed. Regardless, I conquered the waterfall.
And I didn't poop my pants.
We had the last two Mondays off of school because of a couple of random holidays, so the other teachers and I took two weekend vacations. Last weekend, we went to Tela, a little Caribbean beach town, and stayed at a beachside resort. In October, the resort offers a deal to people with accounts at Banco Atlantida, the bank that the ALCS teachers use. If you buy one night, you get the next night free. With four of us sharing a room, that came out to be $20 a night for each of us. The resort was beautiful! It had a huge pool with a water slide and a poolside bar, several restaurant options, and a beachfront. We spent 2 days swimming in the ocean or pool, soaking in the sunshine, and just relaxing. It was exactly the break we all needed after making it through the first couple of months of the school year.
This past weekend, we decided to go to Lake Yojoa, a large lake in the middle of Honduras. The first day we got there, we hung around the hotel and checked out the lake a little bit, and then we headed to D&D Brewery for dinner. This place is owned by an American guy, so it offers some American style food and drinks (which, when you've been living off of Honduran food for this long, is a big deal). We were all worn out from the traveling, so we got back to the hotel after dinner and went straight to bed. The early bedtime was a wise choice, considering the following day's activities. Some of the teachers from La Union had gone to the lake a few weeks earlier and toured a waterfall. It sounded like a lot of fun, so we looked the place up in our guidebooks and and headed there on Sunday. Now, the guidebook warned that it was a slippery, treacherous hike and people had literally fallen to their death there. We figured that we'd be fine, though, as long as we paid for a tour guide instead of just stupidly going out on our own. I was naively picturing some sort of artificially carved out tunnel complete with non-skid flooring and handrails. Now, here was the flaw in my logic: we're not in the U.S. We're in Honduras, a country where safety standards are scarce, and people are responsible for their own safety rather than an adventure tour company being liable. We had all packed our things in one backpack, but they told us that they didn't recommend our bringing a backpack with because we would probably be wet at least up to our chests or shoulders. I mistakenly thought they meant that we'd be wet from splashing water, not from being immersed in water, but I'm getting ahead of myself. We left our backpack in the office without signing any sort of waiver and headed over to the waterfall with the Rafael, the tour guide. As Rafael began leading us up a narrow, muddy trail with a steep drop to the side, we quickly realized that this would be a bit different from what we'd expected. We continued on over some large boulders, until we reached a point where the boulders ended and there was a good 10 foot expanse of chest-level water with the falling water crashing down over it. We all held hands, slid off the rock, waded across to the next set of boulders, and climbed up. We waited there until the whole group of 14 (11 of us and 3 other tourists) was standing up on the rock. The air was so thick with the spray and mist from the crashing water that we could barely breathe, and we were instructed to breathe only through our mouths. It seemed like my whole body was vibrating with how much adrenaline was pumping through me, and I felt like I was hyperventilating (though I wasn't sure If I was actually hyperventilating as a result of the fear, or if it was actually just the sharply decreased amount of oxygen that was available with all of the water in the air). It was at this point that I realized I'd made a mistake. I am a clumsy, awkward individual, and adventure sports are not in my repertoire. I was a little nervous that I would kill myself or someone else, so I began the following dialogue with Rafael:
Me: "Um, is it too later to turn back?"
Rafael: *pause with surprised expression* "Yes."
Me: "Oh. Does it get worse than this?"
Rafael: *pause* "A little."
Me: "Oh."
Rafael: "Would you feel better if you were the first person in line so you can hold on to my hand?"
Me: "Yes."
This is the moment I decided I would marry a waterfall tour guide. But I digress. With my hand tightly grasping his, Rafael led us off of the boulders and back into the water. This was by far the scariest part of the tour. At this point, I was almost up to my chin in water, and the waterfall was actually falling straight down onto my head. I could not see. I could not breathe. I just followed the tug from Rafael's hand as he pulled me up to another landing of boulders. Rafael told me to climb up to the top and wait there while everyone else was coming. He'd broken the group up into 2 groups of 7 to get everyone across more easily, so we waited up on top of the boulders for about 10 minutes as he went back and then got everyone else across. These were the longest 10 minutes of my life, as I stood there shaking, gasping for breath, thinking about the Bible verse tattooed on my back, repeating a short prayer over and over and over again, and seriously contemplating the consequences of just pooping my pants. Finally, though, everybody was across and we grabbed hands once again as we climbed off the boulders, continued through another stretch of water, and then crawled up into a tiny opening of a small cave. Once we were all squezed into the cave, we caught our breath, took a few pictures, and collected ourselves enough to do it all over again. We crawled back out and then trekked down the path we'd just come through. The return went by much faster, and I was soon climbing up out of the water and back across the narrow, muddy path along the cliff. After about 30 minutes, I had stopped shaking, my heart was back to a normal speed, and my limbs had stopped tingling. I bought a popsicle and continued about my evening -- like an adult.
Would I hike the waterfall again? Absolutely not. I am, however, happy that I did it once. I'm not sure if I would have wanted a better idea of what I was getting myself into or not, seeing as I probably would have turned the opportunity down if I'd known what it entailed. Regardless, I conquered the waterfall.
And I didn't poop my pants.
Friday, September 7, 2012
"You do what you love, and fuck the rest."
Please excuse my title. I've been feeling vulgar lately. I've also felt like rewatching Little Miss Sunshine.
It's officially been just over a month since I moved back to Honduras -- this time to a new school and a new town. I thought I'd begin by sharing a few exciting stories:
1) On the way to school, our van hit somebody. Well, actually two somebodies. On a bike. I was too far back to actually see it happen. Our van suddenly came to a jerking halt, and the people in the front gasped. The guy on the back of the bike (everybody here has pegs and rides with a passenger) smashed a huge spiderweb crack into the windshield with his face, and then walked away saying that his wrist hurt a little. No exchange of insurance info. No ambulance or police. No lawsuits. We were on our way within 10 minutes.
2) I accidentally locked a few parents and their kids into my classroom during parent orientation. I have two classrooms -- one for classtime and one large muscle room -- and the parents were in the other room playing with their kids. I had stepped outside, so I couldn't see that there was anyone in the other room. I'd been at school all day (it was evening), so I was tired, hungry, and not thinking clearly. Therefore, when they called for snack, I excitedly locked my classroom door and started making my way toward the cafeteria. Fortunately, I heard someone calling to the people in my classroom before I walked too far.
3) The debacle of a van that we continue taking to to school every morning (cracked windshield and all) had another small issue: the door fell off on the way home from school. When our driver couldn't get it back on, he called another driver to pick us up. After we'd all piled in his van, he couldn't get it started. Just as we thought we'd be walking home, the driver put the car in neutral and coasted down the rest of the mountain until the car had enough umph to start up. Naturally, this is what put Little Miss Sunshine in my brain.
Now that I've grabbed your attention with my exciting stories (which are less exciting if you've been checking my facebook statuses), I want to spend a few sentences gushing about my job. I like it. A lot. I have a class of eleven adorable 2-3 year olds. I would like to post pictures of them, but I'm not sure that's allowed. While I'm only a few weeks into the school year and I know that I'll get frustrated and worn out and hit low points, I feel really good about where I am right now. This is the age I love working with. I'm happy to get up every day. I look forward to going to work. I think about my students all the time, and it makes me happy rather than stressing me out. Even when a student throws a screaming, hitting, spitting fit, I leave work feeling at peace. I felt so out of place last year. I am a teacher and I like to teach, but I hated the teaching that I was doing. I'm now back where I feel happy, and I can see that my students are happy and are already learning a lot. I'm doing what I love.
And fuck the rest.
P.S. I tried putting the dance scene in here, but I can't find it anywhere. You'll just have to find the movie and watch it. It will make your day better, anyway.
It's officially been just over a month since I moved back to Honduras -- this time to a new school and a new town. I thought I'd begin by sharing a few exciting stories:
1) On the way to school, our van hit somebody. Well, actually two somebodies. On a bike. I was too far back to actually see it happen. Our van suddenly came to a jerking halt, and the people in the front gasped. The guy on the back of the bike (everybody here has pegs and rides with a passenger) smashed a huge spiderweb crack into the windshield with his face, and then walked away saying that his wrist hurt a little. No exchange of insurance info. No ambulance or police. No lawsuits. We were on our way within 10 minutes.
2) I accidentally locked a few parents and their kids into my classroom during parent orientation. I have two classrooms -- one for classtime and one large muscle room -- and the parents were in the other room playing with their kids. I had stepped outside, so I couldn't see that there was anyone in the other room. I'd been at school all day (it was evening), so I was tired, hungry, and not thinking clearly. Therefore, when they called for snack, I excitedly locked my classroom door and started making my way toward the cafeteria. Fortunately, I heard someone calling to the people in my classroom before I walked too far.
3) The debacle of a van that we continue taking to to school every morning (cracked windshield and all) had another small issue: the door fell off on the way home from school. When our driver couldn't get it back on, he called another driver to pick us up. After we'd all piled in his van, he couldn't get it started. Just as we thought we'd be walking home, the driver put the car in neutral and coasted down the rest of the mountain until the car had enough umph to start up. Naturally, this is what put Little Miss Sunshine in my brain.
Now that I've grabbed your attention with my exciting stories (which are less exciting if you've been checking my facebook statuses), I want to spend a few sentences gushing about my job. I like it. A lot. I have a class of eleven adorable 2-3 year olds. I would like to post pictures of them, but I'm not sure that's allowed. While I'm only a few weeks into the school year and I know that I'll get frustrated and worn out and hit low points, I feel really good about where I am right now. This is the age I love working with. I'm happy to get up every day. I look forward to going to work. I think about my students all the time, and it makes me happy rather than stressing me out. Even when a student throws a screaming, hitting, spitting fit, I leave work feeling at peace. I felt so out of place last year. I am a teacher and I like to teach, but I hated the teaching that I was doing. I'm now back where I feel happy, and I can see that my students are happy and are already learning a lot. I'm doing what I love.
And fuck the rest.
P.S. I tried putting the dance scene in here, but I can't find it anywhere. You'll just have to find the movie and watch it. It will make your day better, anyway.
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