I cannot make this stuff up.

So, this next-to-last week of school turned out not at all as expected. Not in a bad way. In a where-did-that-come-from way.

It was Tuesday, I think, when we (my roommates - the Kinder/Prepa/1st English teachers - and I) got word of our passports. (Mine actually travels more in Honduras than I do, for which I am quite jealous.) It was not a good word.

How travel permissions work here is that one has 90 days in Honduras once entering the country; past that point, it is necessary to either head for home, or go at least two countries over (try Belize), spend a little time, get a nice passport stamp, and come back. 

Sometimes, I'm not precisely sure how, the government grants visa extensions, which are good for 30 days. Having arrived the 15th of August, we applied (that is, we gave our ministry our passports and a fistful of cash and they went to a lawyer) for an extension to get us from November 15th to December 15th and got it. We were to do this again to cover the 4 days separating that extension limit from our actual departure date of December 19th, the Saturday after the last day of school.  

But it was not granted; we were told no one is getting them.

This news sat heavily upon me, despite reassurances that we could pay a fine (estimated at $80) and leave a little late, no problem. I felt uncomfortable willfully ignoring the law. On Thursday morning we were informed by our pastor's wife that the current fee was more like $140, or L2750). 

I forget in whose brain it was that the wheels first began turning toward leaving. But, we theorized, if the fee to change a plane ticket is only $10 more than the fine, AND we could stay legal in the process of leaving early (a good track record will only help should we enter other foreign countries in the future)... why not? 

We checked: there were flights still. A ride to a hotel close to the airport smoothly materialized. Our passports (which, nerve-wracklingly, were still in Teguc - 2 hours away - on Friday) were speedily returned to us.

And so we're leaving. Despite the arrangement ease, it's been a hard process. Though there is little real teaching happening at the school next week because of holiday festivities, we leave the school in a short-staffed position, as was made abundantly clear to us (in both Spanish and English). Overall though, the staff has been kindly supportive of our desire to avoid the illegal status. They are ever a pleasure to work with. 

So here's the way we gonna play.

This guy has stood me up three times now.

The first time I brushed it off. "He didn't come because he was sick," I told myself. The next time, when he scooted out right before our appointment? "He forgot," I rationalized. Today, when he straight-up did not show again, I faced this fact:

David Emmanuel Oliva Osorio just doesn't want to be tutored in English. 

Having ascertained that, I can strike back by ignoring standard protocol.

At the Destino school, a child who requires tutoring is sent home on Friday afternoon with a blue slip which expresses to their mother/aunt/older sister/whomever that on Monday they will stay after school for about an hour and should be collected at their normal bus stop about 4:20 p.m.

For the obstinate sorts, like our friend David, that little paper tells them exactly which Mondays not to come to school.

So, we out-maneuver them. For special cases, we have what might should be called a Grab-and-Go Policy. Having NOT sent a slip home Friday, we wait for their unsuspecting selves to come to school on Monday, grab them before they get on the bus to leave, and make them go to tutoring.

Hold onto your hat, Oliva. And here's the ironic part. When Destino sent out sponsorship photos this year, each kid held a board listing their full name, grade, and something they liked. Get a load of David's:

Mods

Maybe a month or so back, I hauled 2 3rd grade girls into the office for unsmoothly executed cheating behavior during a spelling test. I blame the incident in part on the fact that I had no assistant (on Friday I only have one for about the last 25 minutes of class, and who wants a spelling test hanging over their head that long?), because having two pairs of roving teacher eyes tends to put down said asinine behavior. The principal, to my annoyance at the time, said perhaps I should move the test to Thursdays, when I am better supported.

I dug in my heels, for they pay an English advisor a fair chunk of money to design a decent curriculum, and by gosh, I was trying to follow it: new spelling list every Monday, two days of practice/reinforcement with the words, a practice test on Thursday, and a test of Friday. (Though Mallori and I at the get-go had to eliminate all the photocopied worksheets that had been included. The school often simply doesn't have that much paper/toner, and it was suggested we could do much of the work on the board. I like the kids to have something in their hands, especially the ones with NO attention span, but it worked out all right.)

So, I carried on with Friday spelling tests, sometimes borrowing an assistant from another class, like one of the 1st grade English teachers. Obviously this is not ideal. Also not ideal is that on Mondays, when the kids get their spelling tests back and have to write missed words several times each, I also have no steady assistant. Mallori's in for maybe 20-25 minutes and then Diana Maria at the end. Nothing sustained. I'm thinking - finally - of switching to Thursday spelling  tests, and then introducing the new list on Fridays. That would eliminate the problem of needing a second pair of eyes on Friday, but would not help the situation of needing back-up on the days (under this plan, Fridays) when only some kids are writing missed words. UNLESS I could convince Mallori to do my grading in the Thursday class, and have the kids write their words at the end. There's an idea. Immediate feedback. I wonder if it would confuse my brain entirely to have 2nd and 3rd on different schedules.

(Nicol, Susan, and Axel - 3 of 3rd grade's best spellers.)

Human Days

I stayed home from Bible study tonight; it's always a fight to make that decision, because I know the fellowship is important. The group really holds up my heart at times.

(A bunch of the crew on my birthday.)

But I'm learning to seek silent time. It's so hard to be still. To listen. To even plan as I should. Not because there isn't time (though sometimes there's precious little), but because it's hard to stop moving. Tonight, when I did, it was a stop of collapse. 

Wednesdays are long. We board the bus at 7 a.m., and often don't leave the school till about 5 p.m, depending on the staff meeting (at worse, we've arrived at our doorstep about 5:50 p.m. after a workday). The meetings vary by week, always starting and ending at different times, and they are not bound by an agenda. I play translator as best I can, bridging the gap between the Honduran and English staffs. I enjoy the challenge of translating, though sometimes afterwards my brain feels it's been left out in the sun too long.

(I'm listening to one of the Gospels online. My favorite description of Joseph of Arimathea comes from Mark: "Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the Council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom of God, took courage and went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.")

As a school update, here's this: I brought cookies today, for my birthday, so I'm the best teacher ever! For a day at least. They've also begun learning a truncated version of "Deck the Halls," to be performed at the parent lunch on the 18th. It seems to be a hit. I think it's all the Fa-la-la-ing. Friday, I'm planning to give a mid-parcial quiz on useful classroom phrases and current vocabulary. 2nd grade is speaking better than ever! You may get on your knees this night and beg God to teach me how to unlock such radical English in 3rd grade. Oy vey.

(With three of my precocious 2nd graders: Erick, Ibraham, and Maycol. Not sure where my head got off to.)

Teacher Enrichment

The nice thing about being a foreign English teacher in Sigua(tepeque) is that you're not alone! Bilingual schools are as common as potholes here (though Destino is almost unique in catering to those who can't pay) , and they all have English-speaking staffs of various sizes, boasting Americans, Canadians, and the occasional Brit. (Not to mention the many bilingual Hondurans.) I have friends/acquaintances at 5 other schools. 

We lean on these other sojourners in love and laughter, prayer and prattling, and in the eating of Thanksgiving dinner! We share teaching tips and clothes, Spanish phrases and computer chargers. And library books.

Yes, library books. Our newest discovery is the library of the Bilingual School of Siguatepeque (Instituto Bilingue Siguatepeque) for which we've been given lavish borrowing privileges. 

L-R: Ariel (Destino's 1st and 2nd grade teacher), Lacy and Esther (IBS teachers), and Bowen (Destino).

(Bruin, Destino's co-Kinder, Prepa, and 1st grade English teacher at the IBS library.)

When one's own library is running low here, it's always nice to find a neighborhood supplement. The other day, I selected an older book, a newer book, and an old favorite:

1) Jungle Pilot: The Life and Witness of Nate Saint, by Russell T. Hitt - as a teenager, I was strongly gripped by the tales of Jim Elliot, missionary to Ecuador and passionate pursuer (like a bridegroom!) of the unreached people then known as the Auca Indians. This volume on Nate Saint, Jim's pilot, promises to give interesting new insight into my original study and be an engaging standalone read. Interestingly, of late I have dated a pilot, and was taken up more than once in a tiny old plane myself, as if to give even more personal force to the narrative. 

2) The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible, by A. J. Jacobs - my current flame finished this a few months ago, and deeply relished its humor. I wasn't at all certain what to expect, but have been touched (thus far) by a candidness on Jacobs' part that I wasn't expecting. Certainly in many comedic hands this venture would have been nothing but a way to take cheap shots at Old Testament regulations. Jacobs, though he does provoke laughs at the Law's expense, poignantly confesses from the get-go, the impossibility of what he is doing. To obey to the letter of the Law.

3) The Arm of the Starfish, by Madeleine L'Engle - I remember where I was when I realized L'Engle had died: lying on my stomach on the couch with a dachshund on top of me. My Dad was reading the announcement off the news feeds, and I was morose at the news. There are few writers I have learned more from. She taught me about writing as a vocation, and I wanted to meet her before I died. To express, perhaps, my gratitude for her sharing her eye, her keen insight into the ubiquity of sacredness in our lives.  Arm of the Starfish is a sterling example, too, of her obedience to the writing craft. A good many pages into the drafting of this novella, a character - Joshua - sauntered in, rather Jesus-like, where he wasn't expected. Rather than showing him the door, she rewrote many dozens of pages to accommodate him, and therein did the story an important favor.

Happy Honduran Election Day!

"Snow Day" #3

Being in Central America, even in the mountains, cuts us out of snow days.

As a trade, we have Political Instability Days.

On June 28 (just a little over a week after I left the country following spring term), the Honduran President Manuel Zelaya was removed. An overview of the situation can be gathered here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_Honduran_constitutional_crisis

On Monday, September 21, he re-entered the country, and two days of curfew followed. To my understanding, this was to prevent his supporters from rallying. The Amandas and I lazed around like cats in our house. Bowen and I took whimsical photos of ourselves:

This Sunday is the presidential election. Given the wildness sometimes surrounding elections even in much more stable countries, we figured it might be an easy off day the following Monday, the 30th. I actually prayed for it, since it's my birthday... until I noticed that the Bible constantly advises we pray for peace in government. So I stopped, awhile back.

We still get the day free though! Just found out today. I guess that might quell any post-election disputing. Now if only the US would recognize the victor.

Guess I can be more leisurely in plotting my mid-parcial exam...

I find their beauty rather astounding.

(2nd grade; L-R: Emely, Julissa, José Luis, Jakelin, and Brenda) 

I worked with Jaki and Juli (see previous post) today, and I doubt that any great gains were made. Aside from stamping in the notion that the student who does not pass English does not pass 2nd grade, I gave them little more than busywork. That's all it is because I don't know how to help them. I don't know what will make Spelling click. I think it is in part an unwillingness to try. Jaki, especially, starts simpering like a valley girl until I half expect her to lament "Woe is me!" while  smiting her forehead and collapsing in a swoon.

(Maybe Honduran girls do not receive the indoctrination that US girls do about how we are able to do ANYTHING! Suddenly I am a fan of propaganda.)

Such different girls. Juli was abandoned to grandparent care by her parents, who are both in the States. Jaki, conversely, is being raised by her mom, an assistant at the school. Juli has a deep, husky, almost mannish voice. Jaki is high and girly, quick to squeal. Jaki coquettes. Juli is aloof.

And like many people, they are united in this: they find English to be an alarming vagabond of a language, one dreadfully in need of pruning and some discipline. And they would be right. What a wild tongue this is.

Spell Me

Hey Sponsors, a quick word:

I have 5 students who are really finding Spelling to be a challenge, and when their cumulative weekly spelling test scores make up 1/3 of their final grade, this can do some damage!

Please pray specifically for this concern if you support Karen Julissa (2nd), Emely Mariela (2nd), Rubenia Jakelin (2nd), Alexis Misael (2nd), and David (3rd).

Thanks! -Zoe

Dollar Days

A couple weeks ago at school, we (the Americans) heard something whispered on the wind about "dollars."

"The American currency?" we wondered. As is often the case at work, we were confused.

The next week I first saw one of these "leadership dollars," a little purple certificate redeemable on Friday for candy ("confite") and such goodies as that. 

Not knowing the true philosophy behind the initiative, I HATED the first week I gave them out. In both of my classes, there are 2-3 kids that are very mature, very smart, and always on task. I groaned inwardly, foreseeing months of the same kids getting the already infamous dollars over and over. In fact, in 2nd grade, the Spanish teacher and I tried to give the dollar to the same "perfect" kid. Great. Just great. Good thing she's tall and tough, or she'd be a perfect bullying candidate.

The second week, however, brought a revelation: this isn't about cumulative good behavior.

It's about SNEAK ATTACKS! Because no one expects the Spanish Inquisition (little Monty Python humor there, for ya). Or Grace. Or the Leadership Dollar.

To my understanding, the theory is this: There are kids who will never get rewards under normal systems because they either fail in the area of grades, or behavior, or general gold starness on a consistent basis. They try to sing, but they mumble. They try to dance, but they stumble. They try to sit still, but their brains are saying, "Get up and run around the room!"

So they do.

The Dollar Program is for them.

All they (and you) need is a moment. Catch them at that rare on-task moment, and praise them to the heights. Shout it from the rooftops. Hand over that coveted dollar and that class'll take note. Promise. Here's who got it this week:

Karla (2nd grade): smartish, but usually unengaged. Present, but not participative. Classic wallflower. Her smile, though, when she's plugged in? Killer. Like time-elapsed video of the sun rising out of the eastern sky. Today, she, unlike many of her classmates, obeyed my edict to cease coloring so we could move on to a new activity. Whereupon I swooped in. DOLLARIFIC!

The previous day's sneak attack, in 3rd grade, was even better. There's the adorable, jolly little guy named Sergio...

...who I can't stand. From the ingratiating looks in eyes, you'd think he was a suck-up, but his habitual stance of being off-task, which I have called him out on multiple times in embarrassing ways, strikes me as a quiet defiance. No Profe, you can't make me. At least, for awhile.

I sneak attacked that kid, all right. He unexpectedly chose to actually open his text upon being handed it Thursday, and sat there, ready. Maybe he'd just filled his drawing notebook and was without better diversion. I don't know. But I don't care. Me affirming Sergio will make the rest of 'em sit up and takes notes, you better believe it.

I like it. I like it a lot.

Meet 2nd & 3rd Grade

Not gonna lie, I'm proud to be the first Destino English teacher to work during two different school years; I hope this is the start of a retention trend for the school. With the drift of years, I experienced a drift of duties. Last spring saw me nervously at the English helm of Kinder (Pre-K in the US), Prepa (Kindergarten), and 1st grade. This year, with a smidge more confidence (a little experience and an awesome new curriculum made the difference), I pilot 2nd and 3rd. 

The observant reader will note that I am previously acquainted with my current 2nd grade, for they, as first graders, were my crown jewel in the spring. My reward at the end of a teaching day filled with runny noses and accidents and constant singing. The 3rd grade I inherited. Receiving the this September was probably not unlike inheriting  your Uncle Mack's wild black stallion that he never quite broke. Beautiful, but dangerous. Likely to bolt.

2nd Grade: 25 kids, about 2/3 girls, 2-3 minor trouble students (all boys); the class' greatest strengths are their general mutual affection and their tough-love assistant Claudia (she should be cloned).

3rd Grade: 29 kids, about 2/3 girls, 4-6 minor to major trouble students (boys and girls); the class' greatest strength is their artistic bent; their greatest weaknesses are their tempers and the ridiculous range of English proficiency among them.

Thoughts After "Reforzamiento"

I used to hate that word. "Reforzamiento." Tutoring. Thousands of dollars worth of Spanish education, and I still couldn't pronounce it in my 2nd tongue. (For the record: ray-FOR-saw-me-ento.)

Pronunciation aside, I wasn't even sure I could do it that well. There's something very humbling about calling a kid out when he (or she) is struggling. I wonder, is it his fault or mine? 

Today, I had planned to focus on 3 kids from 3rd grade who struggle in different ways. Bexsa (perhaps, "Bexa" - I've never really been sure, for the rosters I receive don't always jive with the way the kids actually spell their names), David (Dah-veed), and Skarleth. Through illness on the part of one and misunderstanding on the part of another, I was left to my lonesome with Skarleth.

She's one of those curious ones who scored decently on 2 out of 3 facets on the English evaluation (Spelling and Phonics), but tanked absurdly on the main test, which we label "Vocabulary."

She and I, both smelling like a long day, sat together in the English office. She was shy, less brass than in class where her temper sometimes flares. (To my chagrin, there are MANY volatile tempers in that class.) We read silly phonics exercises, talked through her failed exam, and played "Memory" with cards bearing vocabulary like "pencil," "eraser," and "notebook."* 

It was nice. It was part of why my soul sings here. 

*(That's actually what 2nd grade is doing. 3rd is, oddly enough, doing circus vocabulary.)

Let's get this show on the road.

Greetings and salutations from the brain currently responsible for the English instruction of the Destino del Reino school's 2nd and 3rd grade. If you think this blog quite overdue, I agree.