Imagine a World Without Education

In gearing up for our teacher training next week, I have partnered with a program coordinator in Antigua (a town an hour away) for guidance and support.  A few weeks ago when I was planning with Hyelim, I told her about this awesome 6th grader at our school who won a speech competition in the city for the theme of "Education and Society."  I was planning to have her kick off my teacher training, when Hyelim asked if she would like to come speak to her whole school.

So - on Friday, I got to take Mishell, her dad and grandmother, and our school director to Proyecto Esperanza outside of Antigua.  This was Mishell's first trip outside the city, and the whole day gave me piel de gallina (goosebumps).  I was blown away by her courage to speak in front of the whole school, and she inspired the pants off all the kids and teachers.  Listening to her passion and consciousness gives me hope about this community and the world.  After her speech, the 6th graders invited her to come to their class to talk to her about our school, her speech, and "What do you do for your free time and do you like having to wear a uniform?" kind of kid stuff.  She was nervous and giggly and amazed that so many people were interested in her.  

Proyecto Esperanza is also lucky enough to be connected to a Finca - a beautiful area of land below the volcanoes, full of horses and greenery.  Mishell had never seen horses before, and she was mesmorized.  As we visited the horses, listened to stories from her grandmother about growing up in the country, drove past new buildings and fountains and people. . . I watched Mishell's big eyes soaking in every ounce of the day with curiosity and amazement.  This is why I love my job.  

Here is Mishell's speech.  It's in Spanish.  If you don't understand it, trust me!  It's amazing.  My favorite line is "Imagine a world without education, a society without a history, a book without words." Watch out world.  This tiny little, courageous 12 year old could be president one day. (also, ignore the fact that I'm the worst with technology). 

  

Busy Boss Lady

Ay Dios Mio!

When I came back to UPAVIM a month ago, I hit the ground running.  In addition to still teaching Kindergarten and First Grade, I am now also the English Program Coordinator (for the whole program) and the new Volunteer Program Coordinator (in charge of ALL volunteers).  I have been saddled with the very SMALL task of creating a vision and writing curriculum for the whole future of the English program.  I am training and guiding our current teachers, and developing a teacher training for our new team that will arrive in 3 weeks.  I am the liaison between parents/community/board members/UPAVIMas and the English program, conducting interviews, writing assessments, and building partnerships with other schools. I am also in charge of behavior management and support during our English program hours . . . which is no small task with our behaviorally-outbursty kiddos.  I have added classes to my community English plate, and teach adults for 2 hours every day after school.

My Volunteer Coordinator hat has me being the sounding board for every problem within UPAVIM.  The women come to me to tell me all of their stress and preocupaciones about everything from the pain in their feet and their son's delinquent behavior, to problems at work and offensive tattoos of the volunteers.  The volunteers (who while individually can be interesting and smart. . . collectively have the maturity level of my 1st graders) come to me with their monton of annoyances at each other.  I have to solve cleaning issues, work issues, "she said this" issues, and "the water hasn't worked for 4 days and we smell like the slum" issues.   We also have a college group that's here for 6 weeks, and they are travel virgins.  They need hand holding for everything - and so I also spend my mornings teaching them how to work with kids, and my evenings teaching them how to cook beans and hydrate themselves.  A la gran PUCHICA!!!  I swear it never stops.  I go to bed at night and my mind still races 100 miles per hour, long after my body has surrendered.  I dream about sending important e-mails, and then in real life I am late in sending the actual e-mails because it feels like I have already done it.

But, with all of that chaos and running around like a chicken with my head cut off . .. here's a secret that all of my siblings will tell you - I really LOVE being in charge.  I think it's an oldest sibling kind of thing. . .but bossing people comes naturally :-) I used to plan elaborate school lessons, teach them to my siblings on our playroom chalkboard, and make them do their homework.  I would play church and plan homoly's with fruit juice and circles of bread, making them sit through the whole mass.  I remember forcing Elizabeth to plan every detail of her future - from her first-date outfit to the layout of her future house - that she OF COURSE was going to be sharing with me.

This is definitely the busiest I've ever been, and the most I've ever been in charge of.  But I accept and enjoy the challenge right now.  I have some really close and wonderful chicas here that I lean on for support, I jump on the opportunity to go out and laugh with the women, and of course I still make time to play with the kiddos because those moments of jump rope races and slobbery cheek kisses and chalk drawings are the things that hug my soul.  

A Violent Upswing

Disclaimer: If you are a person prone to worrying about me, don't keep reading this post.

Sometimes the ups and downs of life here are so intense it can feel like a bag of bricks comes out of nowhere and knocks the wind out of you.

After such a love-filled weekend Mother's Day weekend, the last 2 weeks have been full of tough news and soul aches.  The Monday following Mother's Day began with devastating news.  One of my little old language students lost her grandson to gang violence. She is the sweetest ol' thing, and comes up just past my waist.  Every time I see her I wrap her in a hug, and it's so hard to see someone I adore looking so broken. The same weekend, our head chef was extorted by the gangs and escaped in the middle of the night. After 30 years with UPAVIM, she uprooted and left.  The women were really shaken up by these events, and their fear was pretty palpable.  That same week, rival gangs were heating up for a war of some kind, and we were on lockdown for 2 days. By the end of our lockdown, the volunteers had all successfully driven each other crazy.

We have started hearing gunshots several times each night, and 3 people have been killed on our block in the last week.  The most horrible, heart wrenching thing I have ever heard in my life, is the sound of someone bemoaning the sudden and violent death of their loved one.  On one of our lockdown nights, when someone died just past our building, I heard a man crying for his brother for hours.  It was impossible to escape his crying - no matter how much noise we made on the roof, his grief was louder.  My heart hurt a lot that night.

My sanity here is living in the community.  The kids can be hard to teach, the volunteers can get exhausting, my health is always teetering between parasite and cold (this week I came down with STREP throat). . . but living in the community makes all the rest worth it.  I love walking through the streets and saying hi to all my friends.  I love stopping at my favorite corner tiendas to buy food and chat about life.  I love having a barrage of kids smother me with kisses and hugs and questions.  I love when the women invite me in for coffee and chisme.  I haven't been able to go home every night because of the violence, and I've been stuck up on the roof many times, sleeping on a floor or couch. When the violence takes away my ability to leave this building and go home to my family here - my sanity starts to leave me.  I already hate the gangs for the hurt they cause this beautiful community, but on those nights, I have a personal grudge against them and I start counting the days till I leave.  On those days, it's easy to forget what I love here.

Luckily the past few nights have been safer and I have been able to sleep in my own bed.  I spent a wonderful evening with one of my favorite families - sharing dinner, music, and tons of laughter. And meat!  I live with a bunch of vegetarians, and I am always excited at the opportunity to eat some carne.  Tonight was hamburgers. . . que delicioso!  And my favorite surprise of my whole 5 months living here. . . . this family got a washing machine and gave me the gift of doing my laundry!  I was geared up for 2 hours of handwashing, but Marisol (the mother) said "You are one of my best friends here," and then she took all my laundry straight upstairs.

For all you worriers. . . I am being safe.  I stay in when I need to and escape when I can.  And my sanity is restored and my soul gets filled up with love on nights like tonight. . . and I feel like I can keep at this for another week.

Happy Mother's Day

Feliz dia de las Madres!!

Mother's week here in Guatemala was a crazy, festive, tear, love-filled time.  The week leading up to Mother's day was mostly a party during school  kids running around the hallways, classes canceled to make newspaper baskets and paper plate teddy bears and cards.  Cheesy love songs and Bob Marley melodies floated through the air, and occasionally they were understandable.

Friday was a day of performances - cowboy dances, a Jerry Springer re-enactment (horrifying to us volunteers, a laughter filled riot for the community), a Snow White and the Seven Dwarves performance and a clown.  The funny thing about Mother's Day, is that the kids don't hang out with their mom's.  They come to perform, but then head straight back upstairs.  It was the funniest for me that the clown performed for 2 hours - just for the moms.

My kiddos were adorable, and of course - my favorite performance.  The 6th graders made everyone cry.  They pulled their mom's up and sang to them, and every one of them were balling and bursting with love for their mamas. . . . not a dry eye in the building for those 10 minutes.

My kiddos and their dance.


Singing You are my Sunshine

Some adorable dwarves

On Saturday, I took my house mom, Angela, and her family to the movie theater.  It was so much fun!  We saw Rio 2 - which was adorable.  And while Angela's 19 year old son was a little bored, her 7 year old nephew laughed so hard he was in tears.  It was Steven's first time to the cinema, and hearing his loud bursts of incontrollable laughter was my favorite part.

On Sunday, I went with Angela and her family to the cemetery to visit Angela's daughter.  Six years ago, Astryd was shot and killed by the gang, and every 2 weeks for the last 6 years, Angela has made the long trek to visit her.  I have heard so many stories about Astryd, her picture is the center piece in our living room, and I feel as though I know her. It was time for me to visit her.

The cemeteries here are much different - there are humongous above ground walls/tombs and each wall holds probably 300 people. Astryd's grave was at the top of this wall, and to give her flowers we had to climb a huge ladder.  I was prepared for a sad day.  But I can't describe the intense sadness I felt watching Angela climb the ladder with her 3 yellow roses.  I was overcome with so much emotion thinking about a mother losing her child, and seeing the love that Angela has for her - to climb that ladder twice a month to see her daughter.  When Angela came back down she gave me the longest hug, and as we were weeping on each other's shoulders, she told me "I knew today would be sad.  But it is also happy.  I lost one daughter, but God has given me another one."

So much love, I think sometimes my heart just might burst wide open.

Closing a chapter

This last week, as I was in Texas doing some things for my certification, I found this picture on a friend's facebook page

And it hit me like a brick to the stomach.  I found myself living in the wrong story.  Not the part of my story where I travel the world, and am teaching in Guatemala.  That part is definitely mine.  But I started thinking about the parts of my life that I was trying to force to be right, the parts that I found myself living for someone else.

In Texas this week, I found myself saying goodbye - to people, to things, to a life I have lived and fought for, and that is no longer mine.  It is so heartbreaking to close a chapter of your life that you have loved so much.
Between my soul aches I had at the beginning of the week for Guatemala, and the soul aches I ended with for Texas - my week-long break in the states has been much more emotional than expected.  My soul has definitely been tired and sad, but it is also hopeful.  I am looking forward to being more present in MY story.

I had a really lovely last 2 days in Texas.  My good friend Jessica scooped me up and I spent a day in my old stomping grounds - Seguin, Texas.  I got to see old friends, get some big hugs, and see the beautiful recital put on by Teatro De Artes, an organization I used to spend so much time in.  It warmed my heart to see the kids I used to know all grown up, up and stage and amazing.  My last day was the perfect balance of nostalgia and rest.  Jess and I went running, played cribbage, ate Thai food (which I have been craving for 4 months!), watched 2 disney pixar movies AND Karate Kid - I totally still have a crush on Ralph Maccio. Thank you Jess!!

Here's talented little Nathan making the crowd go wild!

When I saw an old friend, Tim, yesterday, I was explaining to him my out of body experience this week of feeling such intense soul aches for my home and family in Guatemala, and not feeling fully connected with being present here in Texas.  Tim told me about something a friend once told him - about life after working with indigenous cultures.  He said it can feel like you are split - your body is in one place, but your soul is still left behind.  It can feel disconnected for awhile before your soul catches up.

My soul is still back in Guatemala, and I fly back tomorrow to catch up with it.  Adios Tejas!  I will miss you mucho.  I'll visit sometime in the future, when I have my own story to share with you.

Soul Aches

In a whirl wind of quick decisions, I flew back to the states for a week.  Back at UPAVIM, I am becoming the new English Program Coordinator, and I need to stay through mid-July to facilitate new teacher trainings and transitions.  Y por eso, I had to come back for a week to get all my teacher certification testing done so I don't miss the boat on applying for teaching jobs next year.

Being back in the states, I've found that I'm out of rhythm here.  I feel out of place in this buzzing, fast, social world.  I know it's only been 4 months, and I know it takes time to re-acclimate.  But one day in, and I'm ready to head back to my street with the honking horns and fireworks and dog fights.  I already miss the cheek kisses, corn tortillas and kids begging me to play with them.  As a life-long nomad, I'm always searching for (and lacking at the same time) that sense of belonging.  I know that my time in Guatemala isn't forever.  But I fit there right now.  As crazy and intense and heartbreaking as life can be there, I also feel so loved.  And that brings a sense of belonging so loud that my heart wants to burst.

If you know me, you know that I am far too empathetic for my own good.  I deeply feel the emotions of others, and I sincerely hurt when others are hurting.  I think that it's up to me to fix everyone's problems.  And my soul is always aching to help everyone in the world.  This has gotten me into trouble with every job I've ever had, because I put so much of myself into helping others that I forget to leave some of myself for me. My friend Kelly once told me that my greatest strength and biggest fault are the same: that I care too much.  And she's right.  Being here in the states, my soul has been aching big time for my Guatemalan family.

Last night, I went to a friend's kick-off concert for his band's tour.  You know that scene in movies where the loudness of wherever the character is slowly drowns out, the camera pans around the person as they are looking around, feeling lost realizing they don't fit in. . . right before they either breakdown or leave?  That's what happened to me.  The screaming music that was blasting my ears slowly drowned out, and it was like I couldn't hear voices, but just saw all these people moving around me - drinking, dancing, flirting, arguing. . . .and I felt so out of place. I began to have a soul ache so huge that it turned into an anxiety attack and I had to leave.  Turns out, I have some hidden post-traumatic stress (or is it current traumatic stress if it's something ongoing?) from the violence of my neighborhood. People die a lot where I live, and the gang violence has increased in the last few weeks. There have been nightly gunshots, and my heart always hurts wondering who just lost someone they loved.  Every woman I meet continues to blow my mind with their stories of heartbreak.  My little Angel who can't come to school because he can't find shoes, my little Dulce who cries over terror of her mother beating her, my teaching partner who had to move in the middle of the night because the gang has put a target on her husband's head. . . .all of these things add up to some mega soul aching for me.As we were listening to that screaming music, I became overwhelmed by the thought that in my Guatemala home - someone at that same moment was screaming because the love of their life had been shot.

To you out there reading this, you might be thinking why in the hell would I be missing a place like that?  But, it's too hard to explain in words. It's the hugs and kisses and gratitude and laughter you'd have to feel to understand.  So just trust me when I say it's where I want to be.  And I know that I can't save or fix everyone.  And I know that me and my soul aches don't actually help anyone, they just keep me acutely aware of the world's pain. I will recover from last night, and will find ways to channel my soul aches - I always do. There is something so sobering about living where I have lived.  To hear and see how quickly life can be taken from you - it has made me feel deep in my bones the preciousness of life and the people in it.

Hey! You! You and your life are so precious! I hope you take a second right now to realize what an amazing gift of life you have, and take another second to tell someone precious to you that you love them.

A little bit a love and a lot bit of faith

It has been so wonderful spending this week leading up to Easter in my La Esperanza community.  The devotion this community has to their religion is beautiful and inspiring to me. While I was playing basketball with two of my favorite kiddos, they invited me to church Thursday night.  These two brothers are terrors during the day at school.  They rarely listen, cause havoc, leave class, and every day the teachers end with headaches from these two.  But outside of school?  They are respectful, playful, sweet caring and kind.  This will be the thing I will miss most when I teach back in the states.  If I struggle with a kiddo inside school here, I just go hang out with them in the community - playing soccer, eating cookies, swimming in the ocean - and it makes me love and appreciate my kids, and it makes my struggles with them more bearable in the classroom.  But back home, it's taboo to just walk up to a student's house and ask if they can come out and play.  

Mass Thursday night surrounded the theme of washing your neighbors feet.  The gesture of washing someone's feet is supposed to be an act of kindness, forgiveness, care and love.  When the Padre invited the congregation to wash someone's feet - little 5th grade Daniel took my hand and walked me up.  As he was washing my feet, I was touched and a little teary eyed over the tenderness of the gesture of this 10 year old boy.  

Yesterday I headed outside at sunrise to help build an alfombra (rug) with everyone.  On Good Friday, the church has a procession for the stations of the cross, and each community builds a beautiful alfombra for the procession to stop at and pray.  Ours was made out of colored sawdust - and it was super fun building together.  Later in the day, I joined the church processional, and was asked to carry the processional alter with 3 other women. 

The stations of the cross ended with  a captivating and rather gruesome crucifixion of Jesus.  The end was gory, but seemed like an appropriate portrayal for a community that lives with violence every day.  It was a great, faith and family filled few days, and I feel blessed that the community embraced me during this week of their biggest traditions. 

My buddies! Daniel on the left is the kiddo that washed my feet. 

Building the Alfombra!

Me carrying the processional alter