Teaching Buddy Site Visit

Last week I ventured to Playa San Miguel in Guanacaste to observe my teaching buddy, Callie. I was looking forward to visiting a different part of the country and getting a glimpse into what life is like for a volunteer in another town. I wasn’t, however, looking forward to the 12-hour journey. I split the trip up by staying in San Jose and leaving early on a 6 am bus to Playa San Miguel. It was about an 8 hour bus ride. Luckily, I had my good friend Angie traveling with me because she too was doing a site visit with another volunteer, Allie, who lives in the town next to Callie’s. About five hours into the bus ride we could feel the temperature change. It was HOT. Both Angie and I live in mountain sites so we are used to temperatures in the 80’s during the day and 60’s-70’s at night. Guanacaste is a different story it is hot 24/7. Callie and Allie were waiting for us at the bus stop in Playa San Miguel. We ate a quick lunch, put on our bathing suits, and went to the beach. Callie lives on a beautiful, white sand, clear blue water, secluded beach. We spent the whole afternoon soaking up the sun and playing in the water. That night we went to a local restaurant that a gringo owns and indulged in some cheeseburgers and pizza… so good! We all stayed the night at Callie’s. Her host family owns a house that they rent out to tourist and they let us stay in it since Callie’s bedroom only has two camp sized beds. The bedroom in the rental house had a ceiling fan which kept the room cool enough for a good night sleep. I woke up ready for another day at the beach. After breakfast we all went to the beach for a bit before Allie and Angie had to catch the bus to Allie’s town. Callie and I spent some more time at the beach before heading back to her house to celebrate her host mom’s birthday with a ton of family members. Callie’s host mom made me plate of food that included a mountain of rice and beans (duh), two gigantic pieces of chicken, two chicharones (homemade pork rines), and salad. I looked at Callie with a worried expression and exclaimed that I would never be able to eat this much. I tried my best. I finished one piece of chicken, one chicharone, the salad, and ¼ of the rice and beans. The giant but very gentle Rottweiler, Jako, got my leftovers. After lunch, Callie and I went down to the restaurant to use their Internet and call our daddies to wish them a Happy Father’s Day. We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing.

On Monday morning we woke up at 5:30, ate some breakfast, and headed off to Callie’s school. We were a little worried that she wouldn’t have class. Callie’s school is run a little differently than mine. Her director doesn’t seem to care much about holding class so he just doesn’t. She normally has about 2 or 3 days of class a week at most. Even though she had asked told her director I was coming to observe, and even though he reassured her she would have class, we had heard that the dentist was coming to the school and their might not be classes. We felt better when we got to school and saw the students in their uniforms. It looked promising. The director informed us that Callie would hold class until 8:30 when the dentist came and then would hold classes in the afternoon. I got to observe Callie teach one and a half classes. She taught her first class, and then when the dentist didn’t arrive at 8:30 she taught her fifth grades for about 15 minutes. The dentist arrived and set up shop in Callie’s classroom. Callie and I hung out in the dining area. The dentist weren’t just doing cleanings. They were pulling teeth and doing other procedures as well. Callie and I realized that they weren’t going to be done in time for afternoon classes, however, her director told us to wait anyway. After 3 hours of waiting in the dining area, her director finally admitted that there wouldn’t be time for afternoon classes and we walked home and spent the rest of the afternoon napping on the beach. Rough life, I know.

It was unfortunate that I only got to see Callie teach one and a half classes, but I am happy that I got to observe something. It was helpful to see another school and a different teaching style. Callie’s students love her, she is a lot of fun in the classroom and even with their limited days of school, it is obvious that they are learning a lot. Their English level is way higher than my students, as they have had English teachers for the past 5 years. Also, lots of Americans have moved to the area, and some of them have bilingual parents. I am the first year long English teacher at my school so my kids still have a ways to go. Callie also has to deal with more severe learning disabilities that I do. Yes, I have some students that are slower, or that have ADD, but nothing that is too hard to handle. Callie has students that have been abused, sexually, physically, and emotionally, which has understandably caused them to have severe social issues and learning disabilities. It is heartbreaking, but Callie seems to be doing a great job managing these students. Even though she is not required, she still takes the time to independently teach English to these students who have severe learning disabilities.

I left Playa San Miguel at 2:30 in the morning Tuesday night. I woke up at 2 am and Jako, the Rottweiler, accompanied me on the 15-minute walk to the bus stop, scaring away the GIANT crabs and a possum like thing. I was very grateful to have him with me. He sat with me until the bus came and once I was on it he made his way back home and Angie and I made our way back to San Jose. 

It was a great trip but I am happy to be back in the much cooler mountains with my students! 

Crossing Lines

I’ve mentioned before that I am beginning to feel completely immersed in my town and the culture. My Spanish is improving daily and I have incredible relationships with the people in the town. Even so, there are some days where I feel so disconnected and have trouble understanding and accepting some of the goings on in my family and the community. I try to be open-minded and judgment free, but I am human and it can be difficult at times.

The other night Audrey (peace corps volunteer) and I were talking with a local, Heyner, who is also an English teacher in a nearby town. He speaks English very well and he is a nice and fun guy. We were talking about our schools and the differences in our classes. We got into sharing annoyances that we experience while teaching elementary school. I mentioned that I get sick of hearing the word “teacher.” All of my students call me teacher and I probably hear the word a billion times a day. The students call me teacher and the director “nina,” which means girl. I mentioned that I thought it was funny when a student calls me “nina” and the others correct them saying “ella no es nina, ella es teacher.” Which means, she is not girl she is teacher. As if I can’t be both. Audrey asked, “They call your director nina?” I told her yes, that all female directors are normally called nina. As I said it, I realized what she was getting at. All the male directors here are called Don, which means sir, and it is a sign of respect. The equivalent for a woman is Dona. Yet, the female directors are not given the same respect as the male directors. Audrey and I asked Heyner and he didn’t really have an answer to why. He said nina is like a term of endearment, that didn’t make Audrey and I feel any better about the situation. How could a country, that has a female president, not give the same respect to women that it gives to men? I see it every day, my host father and brother sitting at the table waiting to be served, and then leaving their mess on the table for my host mother to clean up. Yet, my host mother, sister and I clean up after ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, I love my host father, he is a very kind and loving man. He cares about his family. But many people in this culture still see some things as the “woman’s job.” It is mostly frustrating because I feel like many of the women feel like they don’t have a choice. My host mom comes home from spending the day taking care of her mother and her very sick sister and she has a hungry husband, son, and gringa to feed. She does it with a smile, but I know she is tired.

I feel bad, but I don’t know what I can do. I don’t want to cross the line and suggest that maybe my host father can make his own plate of food. I don’t want to offend anyone. I feel like I cross the line enough with my host brother. I am constantly reprimanding him. He whines to his mother about how hungry he is and I tell him to go get his own food and he just laughs and continues to whine. He sits at the table and complains to his mother about how he doesn’t have any juice and I tell him to get off his butt and get it himself, again he just laughs. I am constantly reminding him to say please and thank you and he just rolls his eyes at me. His immature responses don’t discourage me, though. I keep reprimanding him, hoping that these things will stick and maybe he will eventually show his mother the respect she deserves. 

When it comes to my host brother, I get involved in situations that I probably shouldn’t. He is scheduled to have a surgery to have the fat in his chest removed because he is embarrassed by it and gets made fun of. My host brother is not a fat kid. He is a chubby kid, but he is also only 13 years old and has yet to hit puberty. I am appalled that a doctor would agree to do such a surgery on such a young boy. I am appalled that his parents are allowing it. I have been stressing about it for months. Though his mother agrees with me that he should try diet and exercise and exhaust all options before signing onto such a big surgery, she still is allowing him to have it. She encourages him to eat better and encourages him to do exercises with me, but she doesn’t force him. I think, “if I were his mother…” and then I stop. I am not his mother. I cannot force him to do anything. However, I can teach him. I can inform him. I’ve been informing him for months. Telling him how worried I am about him having the surgery. Asking him to come on walks and runs with me, which he sometimes does. Telling him to eat better, which he never does. As July and the surgery date near, I remind myself, I’ve done all that I can do. I’ve told him the dangers, I’ve explained the pain he will experience. I have told him other ways to go about it. I have told him to wait at least 4 more years. I’ve explained that if he continues to only eat chicken, rice, and potatoes that he will just regain the weight the doctors have removed. I’ve done all that I can do. Doing anything more would be me crossing the lines.

Yes I love it here. I love the people, I love the culture. But there are things I would change if I could. I am realistic. In my remaining six months I am not going to convince the whole country to stop calling woman directors “nina.” I am not going to change my host father’s ways. But maybe, I’ll instill something in the children I teach, and in my host brother. I’ll keep telling them to say please, thank you, and you’re welcome. Yes, English is an important tool for these kids. However, a year from now if they do not remember how to count to 100 in English, but they are saying please and thank you, that would be ok with me. I think that being a human being who has respect for other people is a much more important tool for their lives. 

 My host brother, Francel, and I

We are the Champions!

I am a little sad today. This is the first weekend in months that Pacayitas will not have a soccer game. Pacayitas soccer games are always the highlight of my weekend. I get to see some of my best friends show off their amazing talent. The team is made up of a group of men who grew up in the town. Many of them no longer live in Pacayitas, as they have moved to the larger surrounding cities for work. However, family is very important to Ticos so most of the guys, who live close enough, under three hours, come home on the weekends to see family and play soccer.

Pacayitas is part a of a soccer league made up of teams in the mountains outside of Turrialba. Since February, Ive gone to most of their Sunday games. The games are always exciting, but these last two weeks have been the most fun. Two weeks ago we won the semi final game and there was a huge celebration. However, that celebration did not even compare to last Sundays party after we won the finals against Cien Manzanas 2 to 0.

The game was a blast. Pacayitas took two busses and many rode along in their own cars. Truck beds were filled with anxious fans preparing to cheer on our Pacayitas team. With the level of excitement everyone had for the game, you would have thought we were playing in the World Cup. People stood in trucks dancing and chanting as Pacayitas took the field. I tried to pick up and follow along with the chants, screaming and clapping with everyone else. I was excited and nervous for my friends. 

The first half ended and neither team had scored. It started raining at the start of the second half. Twenty minutes into the second half, Pacayitas got their first goal. With about five minutes left, they scored their second, securing the victory. The team went nuts, dog piling on top of each other. The rain soaked fans were just as crazy spraying beer, screaming, jumping on the sidelines and in the truck bed. It was awesome! The team and fans piled into trucks for the ride back to Pacayitas. Everyone was geared up for a party. Drivers laid on the horns for almost the whole 35 minute drive back. The honking and cheering only stopped for a moment, we passed a home of a sick elderly man and out of respect everyone was quite. Once around the corner it all resumed again. When we arrived in Pacayitas it was kicked up a notch. Chanting, honking, blowing horns. The players were taking their jersies off and swinging them around their heads. The few people in the town who had not attended the game, came out of there homes to congratulate the players as we drove through the whole town.  We were sprayed with garden hoses, which only add to the mess of mud and water that came with riding in truck beds while it rained. We circled back to the town bar and everyone jumped out of the cars and the party began. Drinking, eating, dancing, cheering, and chanting… almost everyone in the town was there. Audrey and I were shocked by the behavior of some who we had pinned as very serious and formal people. A very nice, but serious man that Audrey works with was spraying beer, making out with his wife, and dirty dancing throughout the whole party. We had a great time seeing a different side of many of the town's people. It was an awesome day.

And now… it is all over. Well, only for a couple months and then they will begin playing a new season. I imagine my weekends will be a lot less eventful these next couple months. I was lucky to have this past week off because of the National Census. I have been able to relax and rejuvenate after such a fun but exhausting weekend.

My town is amazing. The people are so sweet and fun. I am so fortunate to have such great friends to have fun with. I no longer feel like a visitor, I now feel like I am part of Pacayitas. 

 Me and the goalie/great friend Yeison.

 Me with my best friend, Fabian.

 A bad ass bicycle kick.

 My friend, Dixon.

 Riding back from the finals.

 My host brother, Francel, enjoying some meat at the party.

 The party celebrating winning the finals!

praying after winning the semi-finals

"Welcome to Being a Teacher"

Last night I was Skyping with my high school Spanish teacher/advisor. We have kept in touch over the years and I consider her a great friend and mentor. I was complaining to her about the hoops I have to jump through for my TEFL certification and after about five minutes of listening to me bitch she interrupted me and said “Laura, welcome to being a teacher…”

It seems I am just now grasping all that comes with being a teacher. There are amazing times, when my students are sponges and taking in everything that I am teaching them. There are not so amazing times when I spend a whole class period explaining one word. There are times of pure joy, like when every student passed my first exam. There are times of pure frustration, like today, when I caught a student cheating on my test. Sweet, innocent Angie…

Yes, the same Angie that has given me gifts… a spandex shirt, and a dirty pink tank top. I was shocked when I noticed the little piece of paper that she was cupping in her hand. My heart dropped as I walked towards her desk and her guilty eyes met mine. There was no hiding it. She was caught. I took the piece of paper from her and asked her who wrote it. “I did.” I asked her if she wrote it before or during the test. “Before.” I looked over it and realized that most of her answers were wrong on the cheat sheet and that there were words on it that I never even taught them. I am afraid one of her parents wrote it for her… that bothers me on a complete different level. I took her exam from her and told her to sit until everyone had finished their exams. She held her tears back, and I held mine back. Oh yes, I cried a little on the inside.

Once everyone was finished with their exam I was over my sympathetic reaction and had moved on to being pissed off about Angie cheating. Angie fled the room and burst into tears. I went to my director and told her that I wanted to give Angie a zero on the exam for cheating and my director agreed it was the right thing to do. I dramatically ripped up the exam, and students gasped. It was the talk of the school. “Teacher ripped up Angie’s exam because she cheated.” Damn right I did and I’ll do it again if I have to. Needless to say, no one else cheated on their exams the rest of the day.

So the written exam didn’t go as well as the oral exam… I guess that was to be expected. Some students misspelled words, even when they were given a word bank. That was frustrating. Three students failed. I have to keep in mind that some students just aren’t good test takers. I was never a good test taker. I struggled in middle school. However, I was fortunate enough to have parents and teachers that cared about my education and got me all the help I needed to better understand how I learn. I am still getting to know my kids and how they learn. I am hoping by the next exam I will have figured out each student’s strengths and weaknesses to better help them navigate through learning English.

So being a teacher isn’t always joyful and rewarding. And I think I have confirmed what I’ve always thought to know about myself, I am not cutout to teach little ones. However, I am going to do my best to stay motivated… because the joyful moments, and the rewarding moments… they are so worth it. Seeing my first grader, Candy, light up when I told her she made a 98% on her exam today, it warmed my heart… that was a rewarding moment. Those are the moments I am going to cherish.

Two Blonde Gringas are Better than One

I’ve officially experienced my first earthquake while I was in San Jose this past weekend for my groups mid-service meeting. It wasn’t what I expected it would be like… mainly because I had no idea what was happening. I always imagined that I would know what was happening if I ever experienced an earthquake. However, when the store I was in started shaking and people started pushing me towards the stairs with tears flowing from their eyes, I had no clue as to what was happening. I thought that I was imagining the shaking and thought it was more so caused by the crowd pushing me down the stairs (the only injury I acquired during this experience was a woman stepping on my toe with her high heels). Anyway, I had no idea why people were crying or what the rush was. Turns out it was a 6.0 earthquake. Thank God no one I know was hurt and the only damage I witnessed was some broken glasses that had fallen off the shelves in the store. When the shaking was over people wiped their tears and carried on shopping so my friends and I did the same. Thank goodness, no deaths were reported.

Last week my teaching buddy, Callie, came to visit. During orientation we were each assigned another volunteer as our “teaching buddy.” This person is someone we keep in touch with regularly. We are required to visit each other’s sites during the year and observe one another teaching. Callie came last weekend and stayed until we both left on Wednesday for our mid-service meeting in San Jose. Callie is placed in Guanacaste on the beach at one of, if not the, hottest site. I warned her that the rainy season had just arrived and it would get very chilly at night here. She ended up spending most of her time here in my sweatshirt. We went to a futbol game in my town during the pouring rain on Sunday, which very entertaining. We indulged in my host mom’s great cooking, and Callie shared stories with my host family about what life in Guanacaste is like. (My host family hasn’t traveled around the country much so Guanacaste, which is about a 10-hour bus ride from here, seems like a different country) On Monday, Callie came to school with me. I was excited to show off my students to her. I’ve heard some horror stories from some of the other volunteers about the behavior problems they experience in the classroom, but I don’t have any problem students, besides my one first grade student who has ADD and struggles to sit in his seat. I was looking forward to my little angels impressing Callie with their great behavior.

From the moment we arrived at school, all eyes were on the new Gringa. (I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before that Costa Ricans use the word “gringo” to describe Americans and it is not meant to be offensive) Anyway, Callie whispered to me that she felt like the most interesting person in the world. You would think that my students had never seen a blonde hair, blue eyed, girl before… but wait, I am here everyday! Callie and I told my students we were twins and I think a lot of them bought it. Callie seems to have a lot more patience with the kids than I do. They all circled around her climbed in her lap and braided her hair. I let my kids occasionally braid my hair and sit in my lap, but not for hours at a time. Callie let it carry on for the whole day. I don’t want to sound like the bad cop, I do play with my kids often and hug them constantly. However, I do set some boundaries to prevent my students from using me as a jungle gym. When it was time for my first grade class my students wanted nothing to do with learning. They just wanted to show off for Callie. I couldn’t get them to follow any directions. Instead, they just ran around like crazy kids. I’ve never felt so stressed out during a class before. My only solution was to put them in their seats and have them practice writing. So much for showing off my awesomely behaved students…

Last Tuesday went a little better. I think the initial shock of having another gringa in the classroom had worn off, so the students were better behaved. One of my fourth graders, Angie, gave Callie a stuffed bear. I think she felt guilty for not having a present for me too, even though she has already given me a spandex shirt before. She ran out of the classroom and returned moments later with something for me. It was a dirty, pink tank top that maybe could fit one of my arms, wrapped in a pillowcase. I thanked her as I tried to keep myself from laughing. I am sure her mother is now wondering what happened to her daughter’s pink tank top. I can’t help but smile just thinking about how adorably sweet the thought was…

I was happy to see my students responding so well to Callie and giving her so much love. From what Callie has told me, she gets a lot of love from her students, but she doesn’t have class often. In fact, she has class almost never. I feel like I have a ridiculous amount of days off, but my days off don’t even compare to Callie’s. She has taught a total of 26 days of school. I have taught probably 45-50 days. Even though Callie’s director doesn’t seem too concerned with her student’s education, she hasn’t given up on them. She has heartbreaking stories about some of her students being abused, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I feel so for her students, but I am happy to know that they have Callie as a role model for the year. She is so kind and I know she will bring a lot of light into their dark lives. As far as I know, none of my students have endured the abuse that many of Callie’s students have been subjected to. I feel blessed to be part of this community.

I will be visiting Callie in mid-June. I am looking forward to experiencing another community, especially one so drastically different from mine. Though I am not too stoked about the long bus ride I will have to take, I know it will be worth the ride. Her secluded beach is known as one of the best in Costa Rica. I am looking forward to meeting her host family, students, and towns people and getting a taste of her experience here.

A new found phobia.

I’ve never been afraid of an animal. I didn’t inherit my dad’s fear of snakes, nor do I share my brother’s fear of spiders. I mean, I am not a fan of snakes, especially when I see them in their natural habitat but I can handle being around them. Spiders don’t really freak me out, except for the time my 8^th grade English teacher squashed one and hundreds of spider babies fled from its squished body… that was nasty, but not necessarily scary. No, leave it to me to be afraid of much more legitimate things, like Mickey Mouse and Santa Clause. Ok, so I am not afraid of people dressed up anymore, well not really anyway. My heart still beats really fast when I am approached by someone in costume, but I don’t hide under the table, like I did when I was a child at Chucky Cheese birthday parties, or when Santa came out at the annual Christmas Brunch my family attended… I have grown out of that phase. So, up until today I could honestly say that I was living with no real intense fear of anything. Then I arrived home and found a furry thing with wings waiting for me. My reaction was “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!” My host mother ran to see what it was I was yelling about in English… I apparently sounded panicked. She laughed and said “Oh Laurita solo es un mariposa.” Translated, “Oh little Laura, its only a butterfly.” I am often looked at like I am crazy for saying things wrong in Spanish, or when I try to explain things that happen in America, like the Easter Bunny… but now it was my time to look at my host mom like she was crazy. This ain’t no butterfly, woman. This looks like the outcome of a bat and tarantula mating session. I am not afraid of bats. I am not afraid of tarantulas. I am now, however, super afraid of what I believe is the mix between the two. It hasn’t done anything to me…yet. Well actually, it hasn’t even moved from the spot on the wall where I first encountered it two hours ago. But I have a feeling this thing has the ability to attack and kill. Maybe I am being a bit dramatic, but I’ve never seen anything like it. I think that is what scares me the most about it. It is only 4 inches from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other. It has very furry legs, two that poke out by its creepy little face like they are going to grab you at any minute. It also has longer hair by its face that, to me, resembles an old man’s bushy eyebrows the poke out in all sorts of directions and curl up. Why am I wasting all this time explaining it to you… a picture is worth a thousand words, right? 

Freaky, am I right? I think I am going to need to pop a few Tylenol PM to have any chance at sleeping tonight. 

Oh, and while we are on the subject of my host family often thinking I am crazy... 

Remember my post a few weeks back when I spoke of a juice that was served to me and I claimed it looked like fish eggs and everyone called me crazy... Well I promised y'all a picture of that the next time I was served it so here is that photo, for your entertainment. 

Am I the only one out there that thinks this "juice" looks like fish eggs?

Homemade remedies, no thank you!

Semana Santa break is over and I am back into the swing of things here in Mollejones. I had a great break at home in the States. I indulged in all my favorite foods, took plenty of hot showers, and spent quality time with my family, friends, and dogs. Back to work…

I had a rough first day back on Monday. Things started off well, with my fifth and sixth graders proving to me that they hadn’t forgotten anything over the week break. It wasn’t until after lunch that the day took a turn for the worse. I was in the middle of teaching my fourth graders when I suddenly got very hot and my stomach started churning. I’ve never had a sickness hit me so hard and so fast. I ran to the bathroom where I found students who had chosen the bathroom as their hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek, I yelled at them to get out and then I proceeded to throw-up while all my students gathered outside the door wondering what was wrong with me. I put my head under the sink and took a deep breath before opening the door to my students who were all standing there looking at me like I was a sick puppy. I apologized to the students I yelled at and then went looking for my director to tell her I was sick. I found her in the kitchen and before I could even get a word out she asked me what was wrong… apparently I looked as bad as I felt. She asked me if I wanted to ride back to Pacayitas on a motorcycle or wait a few hours for the bus. I chose the latter option, as the idea of riding on the back of the motorcycle didn’t sit well with my stomach and I proceeded to get sick again. I asked all the students playing in my classroom to please leave, I closed the door and sprawled out on the cold tile floor. I called my mom… I don’t think anyone ever grows out of wanting their mommy when they are sick. A little while later my director knocked on the door to give me some fresh squeezed lime. No water, no sugar, just straight lime. She said it would settle my stomach… but it didn’t. Later, one of my student’s mothers came with her house remedy for stomach viruses. Every woman here has her own solution, it seems. She told me it would taste bad but it would heal me. I’ve tasted some pretty bad homemade medicines here before, but this one takes the gold medal for absolute worst tasting thing that has ever entered my mouth. I knew I was in for something awful as I brought the cup up to the mouth… the smell was so bad. I closed my eyes and took a sip. I don’t know how my body managed to swallow the nastiness. I handed the cup back, shaking my head, repeating “no! no! no!” I would rather be sick for the rest of my life than have to ever taste another drop of that “remedy.” The school cook, who has become a good friend, laughed at me and said I must be exaggerating. She took a spoon to try some for herself. I was shaking my head at her and telling her she would regret it, but she didn’t listen. She took a spoon full and it was less than a second before she spewed the liquid out on to the ground. She then put her mouth under the sink and rinsed out the leftover awfulness. I laughed and said, “I told you so.” I sprawled back on my classroom floor and waited for the bus.

I was so excited when the bus finally arrived. I couldn’t wait to get home and into my bed. For some reason it hadn’t even crossed my mind about how terrible the bus ride home would be. The unpaved, mountain roads, make for the most uncomfortable rides on any given day in any sort of vehicle. If a cockroach were to climb aboard a “Shake-Weight” he might then know what a ride to Pacayitas feels like. It is not pleasant. I set a goal for myself to not toss my cookies on the way home. It was the longest 40 minutes of my life. I came close to getting sick at one point, but a heaven sent gust of wind flowed through the window, settling my stomach. I made it back to my house just in time to get sick there. Shockingly, no one was home. I was sure my host mom would have heard by now that I was sick and would be waiting for me. I have to say I was a little relived that she hadn’t yet heard because I was not in the mood for any more homemade remedies. I just wanted to sleep. When my host mom came home and saw that I was sick she immediately went into doctor mode. I am so grateful that she cares enough to look out for me but communicating in Spanish seems to get 100 times more difficult when I am sick and it is so frustrating. She kept asking me what hurts, and what I want, and what I need but my brain couldn’t put it together in Spanish to explain to her all that I wanted and needed. I finally was able to keep down some water and Tylenol PM and passed out for the night. I didn’t feel any better when I woke up Tuesday morning. My stomach was still not in the mood for food. I spent the morning in and out of sleep. Finally around noon I told my host mom I wanted to try to eat. She made me beef broth and rice. I managed to eat a little and then fell back asleep for a couple hours. I woke up feeling much better. My headache had subsided and my stomach pain was gone. I was so relieved that whatever stomach bug I had only lasted twenty-four hours. It was a miserable 24 hours and I am glad it is over. I have been feeling great ever since waking up from that nap on Tuesday.

I am so proud of all my students, as they have managed to retain all the information I taught them before their break. They actually appear to be more focused than ever, which I am sure won’t last long. Time is flying by. I cannot believe it is almost May! Well, I better get back to work… I’ve got to finish making my body-parts bingo boards.