Soy Profesora

Lesson planning has gotten boring already.  I've only been working on it for about an hour this morning, but I'm ready for a break.

Having a lesson planned before you teach a class is quite helpful, though.

Going into my first day of teaching at W-Ragar, I really didn't have much of an idea of what I was going to do.  I had written out a list of vocabulary words and common verbs that I thought the kids should know and from there on out I just winged it.

I have eight students in 7th grade, six boys and two girls.  I'll try and get a class picture up for you guys.

These kids are so funny.  They all want to know how many siblings I have ("Seven?!" *jaw drop*), what my parents' names are, who my boyfriend is (when I tell them I don't have one, they start making up names..."Mike, then!"), how old I am (I've told them 70, 10, 28, and 100, so at this point it's all up in the air).

All of them speak English fairly well, except for two who really don't speak much at all.  I think of all things, the biggest struggle this year for me will be trying to keep the kids learning and moving ahead without losing anyone.  Especially one kid, Eduardo.  He speaks the least English, and I hate when I see his face drop because he has no clue what's going on.  Having to speak in English and then translate to Spanish helps me practice, at least.

From 7-9:00am and then from 11:40-12:40pm I'm with 7th grade.  Between those two class times, from 9:20-11:20, I teach English to the 5th and 6th graders.  This class is about 15 students and definitely more difficult than 7th grade.  Trying to split the time between 5th and 6th and keep everyone busy so they don't start fighting and playing around is tricky sometimes.  They are learning and mostly working hard, though, so hopefully I'll get better at handling the time and they'll get better at focusing.

Of course, there's the occasional interruption...  Last class, the kids were sitting at their tables doing book work when one of the 6th graders, Fernando, yelled and jumped up.  He started running towards the door and then pointing under the tables.  At first, none of the other kids knew what was happening, but some of the girls started screaming and the boys stood on their chairs.  Apparently, a bright green and blue lizard had crawled into the classroom to try and find some shade.  It ran over Mauricio's feet and under Eva's chair and by then everyone was trying to run from it or kill it.  The poor little guy lost his tail to someone's foot, but he made it back out of the door alive at least, though that was only because I told the boys not to smack it with the broom.

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The lessons are planned, it's 7:40pm, and I'm already ready for bed.  I've got to get up early in the morning to catch the school bus at 6:15.  Okay, so I know early is subjective, but it's temprano for me.  This whole 5:00am thing has turned me into an 80-year-old woman.  I start getting tired around 6pm these days.  Haha!

One thing I was thinking about this evening and would appreciate prayer for is my witness to the kids.  Thursday, I was chatting with my two girls and said "estupido" (stupid).  Apparently that's considered a bad word around here?  The girls both stopped talking and looked at me.  Then they wanted to know if I was a Christian.  When I said yes, they asked why I had said a bad word.  Still don't quite understand what sort of connotations "stupid" has, but I guess I'll stay away from that.  It just made me think about how much the kids are watching me and learning from me as a person who they look up to, not just as a language teacher.  The church here is very legalistic for the most part, and I don't want to convey that sort of "Christianity" to them, but at the same time, I want to become all things to all people.

Taking the bus home

Where You Lead, I Will Follow

THE BILINGUAL SCHOOL
I love the theme song for the TV show Gilmore Girls.  I don't understand exactly what it has to do with the show itself except for the fact that it's all warm and lovey, but I like the words: "Where you lead, I will follow, anywhere that you tell me to.  If you need, you need me to be with you, I will follow where you lead."

Next Monday, the 13th, the bilingual school starts its new year.  W-Ragar has added 7th grade now, and I am the English teacher.  Every now and then, I wonder what I have gotten myself into, and I would really appreciate your prayers.  Originally, another intern and I were co-teaching the class - she would teach three days, I would take two - and the director of the school told me that she would give me a textbook to use.

A week before school was supposed to start, I met up with the director to make sure I knew what she was expecting of me.  I found out.  Basically, it goes like this: I teach English, and the kids will hopefully learn something.  Besides wanting Reading and Language to be the two basic categories for my class, she didn't have any other specifications.  Not gonna lie, hearing this wracked my nerves a bit.  I'm pretty sure that I am not prepared to take on planning and teaching a class of 12 or so energetic and sometimes less-than-obedient 13-year-olds.  She did tell me about a great bookstore in La Ceiba where I could look for a textbook, though.

I went to La Ceiba and found the bookstore, BookMaster.  I actually enjoyed myself there.  Something about the first grade math charts and "#1 Teacher!" ribbons got me excited about teaching, and I started to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all being completely in charge of my class.

I chose Learning Journeys as the textbook.  I think the title of the book is quite appropriate.

During a Bible study last week, one of my friends was talking about trusting the Lord.  She mentioned the quote about how we can be most at peace, no matter what is going on around us, when we are in the center of God's will.  I know this is such a fundamental idea and something I should know by now, but it just struck me in a new way.  If I am listening to the Lord and going where he's asking me to go, then I don't need to fear.   He wants me here, doing this "scary" thing, for a reason.  I don't know yet what exactly that might be, but I do know two things: God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28), and he planned whatever this is for his glory (Isaiah 43:7).  WHY AM I NERVOUS?  He'll be with me (duh), he'll help me (duh), it'll be hard sometimes (duh), and it'll all turn out for the very best (duh).  So, this is my outlook on the new school year, at least when I remember to think this way.

Ha, a week ago when I had this little "epiphany," my first thought was, "Um, God, don't you think you could've waited for me to realize this until I was actually on the bus on the way to school or something?  By the time next week rolls around, I'm going to have forgotten this already."  I think maybe God is teaching me about trust... God, I'm ready to start on this new learning journey.  Where you lead, I will follow.

THE DUMP
On Tuesday, I went with Lisa, a wonderful missionary lady, to the Dump in La Ceiba (La Ceiba is the city an hour from the hospital where all the missionaries do their shopping).  I don't know if I've blogged about the Dump before, but just in case... Around the La Ceiba dump, hundreds of people have made their homes.  Many little shacks and a few sturdier cement houses line the dirt road that winds up from the main road to the trash heap.  Lisa has a ministry at the Dump of building friendships with families and the little children, helping when she can with small medical problems like infected scrapes and runny noses, taking the really sick to better-equipped people, teaching the children, loving however she can.  She visits every Tuesday and Saturday.

This Tuesday, we went to visit Milagro (Spanish for "miracle"), a one-month-old baby girl with hydrocephalus.  She and her family live on the side of a steep, muddy slope.  We walked up a ladder-like set of metal stairs that someone had laid against the hill, under a few clothes lines, and past a mangy dog or three.  Along the way, Lisa says hello to every little child that she sees.  We have to stop to rest a few times because Lisa was carrying Mateo, a cute little kid who is quite the chunker monker.

Milagro was so tiny; she looked premature.  Her little legs were so thin and weak.  But her head was big, huge, like an alien's from the bar scenes in Star Wars.  Her little veins were pressed so tightly against her skin because of the pressure from her skull, and her eyes were stretched, almost closed.  The mother said that the shunt the doctor had put into Milagro's head to reduce the pressure was working; her head was getting smaller, slowly.  They say it's hard to tell what causes hydrocephalus, and sometimes a shunt helps, sometimes it doesn't.

Only a couple weeks ago, Quebin (Kevin), a little boy about 7 years old who lived in the house right beside Milagro's, passed away because of hydrocephalus.  He had been admitted to the hospital and had a shunt put in his head, but it didn't work.  He was too old.

After visiting with Milagro's family, we took Quebin's mom to the cemetery where they buried Quebin.  Ten or so children and I rode in the back of Lisa's truck.  One of the older boys carried a little plastic bouquet of red roses.

A lot of the graves are raised, cement structures that they cover in colorful tiles.  Quebin's was a mound of red dirt surrounded by red rocks.  A few purple-leaved plants grew along the sides and a pot of dead flowers rested on top, right next to the little plastic toy palm tree that Quebin's younger brother had put there.  The boy with the roses stuck them in the red dirt, and I realized he was the older brother.  At the head of Quebin's grave was a small wooden cross, painted green and bearing his name across the wings in large, black letters.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone grieve so openly and unashamedly as his mother did.  She sat down on a cinder block next to his grave, grasped the rocks that lined it, and started crying out in Spanish, "My son, my beautiful boy!  I never thought that my boy was going to die..."  She spoke loudly but shakily because of her sobbing.  After we had helped clean the dead leaves and twigs off of the grave, we left.

I'm not sure why all of that stuck with me, but it did.

Ubiquitous Coca-Cola...this is on the side of a pulperia (like the Honduran version of 7-11) in the Dump.

Coming Home

To be honest, leaving was hard this time.  My family all stood behind the white line, behind the sign that says "Ticketed passengers only," and they waved to me as I rode the escalator down to security.  I've said goodbye before, and I thought that I would be fine.  I didn't think I'd have to quickly dry my eyes so I could see to pull out my passport and ticket for the security officer.

When I arrived in the San Pedro airport, though, and an officer there called out, "¿Hondureños? Hondureños aquí, por favor" (Hondurans here, please) to the line of people in front of customs, I started to get excited about being back "home."  I got my first Honduran coca-cola in the airport.  I put all my luggage on top of the missionary's land cruiser.  We drove five hours back to Balfate over bumpy roads, passing slow trucks and dodging bikers.  I saw the bright, colorful lights that extra-flashy people string around their license plates.  We had to use the self-service pump at the gas station because the other pumps were busy and it felt weird to have to do the work ourselves.  We opened the windows once we got off the main road and the breeze was warm.  When I got to my room, the first thing I saw was a "Welcome Home!" sign on my door.  And I was finally glad to be back, back with all the familiar things I love about this place.  


That was Saturday.


Sunday night, a stomach ache that had been bugging me on and off since a little before I left the States turned into a flu or something.  Sitting around and resting all day Monday was not how I had planned to spend my day and definitely not what I wanted to be doing.  I wanted to be working and talking to people and I didn't want to be alone on my second day back, and I started getting frustrated.  


But.  God knew that would be the perfect start to these next four months, I think.  It was like God was asking, "Are you willing to do anything for me?  Even feel sick?"  This was a perfect, yet small, way for me to hand my time over to him, for God to remind me that I'm here for him, and that he's here with me.  If God wants me to serve him by having a great attitude while not doing much of anything, then that's alright with me.  

After that day, I've felt great and had a lovely first week back.  It's 7am now, and at 9:00 I'm leaving to head into La Ceiba with Krystle, another intern staying in staff housing, to do some grocery shopping.  That's good because about all the food I have left right now is an apple, a zucchini, eggs, and some bread.  

 Wanda is the nickname the MK's have given me...don't ask me why.

 Eryn and Benton, my two students.  This was, I think, the fifth attempt at getting a nice picture.

The girls (Sarah, Mariah, and Rebekah) at dinner in town.

Take me, Mold me, use me, fill me,
I give my life to the Potter's hand.
Call me, guide me, lead me, walk beside me,
I give my life to the Potter's hand.

Still, My Soul, Be Still

Some things have gone on in the community recently.  Hard things.  Things that haven't affected me personally except to remind me that we are indeed in the midst of spiritual war and to draw me to my knees.  I have at the same time sensed very real spiritual attack and known closeness with our Savior.  

Two nights ago, I had dinner with a family who lives up the hill from me.  They're really great, and I love spending time with them.  Afterwards, as I walked down the hill in the dark, I felt afraid.  Normally, all I think about is the beautiful stars and the sounds of the waves lapping the shore and the cool mountain breezes.  And this night, I wasn't scared of snakes and dogs.  And I guess I wouldn't call it "scared."  But the whole way down the hill, I felt it necessary to say verses to myself.  Verses like, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies" and "He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways" and "The Lord your God, the Lord is One."  

I just wanted to write another post about Thanksgiving to again thank the Lord, specifically.  I want to thank him for giving peace that guards our hearts and our minds, joy that strengthens and encourages, for loving us with an everlasting love, for gathering his people from all over the world to himself.  And I want to praise him, because He is worthy.

"For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called." ~Isaiah 54:5

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.  I think it's such a great idea.  You get to eat delicious food -- turkey with gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and pecan pie.  And you spend the day with people you love, family or friends.  And you relax and remember all that God has given you and give him thanks for it.  I realize that even all of that is another blessing from God...family and friends and a feast.

I can't let Thanksgiving pass without posting my own little list.

Number One.
I am so thankful that God gave me the chance to come to Honduras.  I love being here, I love the people I've met, I love the landscape, I love the weather, I love the language, I love my jobs.  I know I've learned much, and gained so many friends, and have been able to experience so many special things.

Number Two.
I'm thankful that I live in the middle of a hospital community.  It makes being sick so much easier.  Nothing quite compares to having your own personal nurse come check on you in your room.  Miss Penny, who should probably get her own number on here, is a nurse at the hospital and the grandmother of the two kids I teach.  When she found out I was sick, she came to my room and made sure I had everything I needed.  She even took me to the hospital the next day to get checked out.  That was cool, because I can now say that I've actually been to Hospital Loma de Luz.  I even got my blood drawn and didn't feel faint (or at least not more than I already did).  Success, I'd say!

Number Three.
I think technology must be my third.  Being able to Skype with my family and Facebook my friends in the States and take pictures of my home here is so amazing.  I keep thinking about how hard it must have been to travel years ago, when communication meant letters and maybe a rare and expensive phone call.  So thank you, God, for giving some people the brains to come up with all of this crazy stuff!

Number Four.
This past week, all the kids finished up at W-RAGAR (the bilingual school).  They took their exams... Ok. Interrupt: I'm thankful for geckos.  They might leave droppings everywhere (I do mean everywhere), but they're handy insect killers.  One little fella just caught a giant fly, which is now buzzing madly.  Betcha can't guess who I'm cheering for!  Anyways, exams are over, and some teachers are filling out paperwork, and I'm glad that they let me be a part of their school this year and still want me to come back next year.

Number Five.
Getting to spend time with Delmy, a teacher from W-RAGAR and a leader in her church, is such a treat.  Delmy always warmly welcomes, and makes me laugh, and helps me learn Spanish, and cares about deep things.  Thursday afternoon, after we finished up some exams and worked on a little paperwork, Delmy stopped a truck and we rode in the back of it into town to her house.  Her aunt made us lunch.  It was chop suey (who would guess that the first time I would try this would be in Honduras?), coleslaw (a typical food), and white bread.  Delicious.  We talked about school and our families and things we like and don't like in our lives, and we taught each other Spanish and English, and laughed at ourselves.

I'm sure this list could go on forever, but I don't have time to write everything down and I'm sure no one has time to read everything, either.  So I'll leave it with this: "What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits to me?  I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord...I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord." ~Psalm 116:12-13, 17

Seasons

This is final exam week for the bilingual school.  I'm a little sad, because that means that school's ending and I probably won't see some of the kids until February when school starts again.  

Next school year, I'm teaching English to 7th graders, specifically "language" and "writing."  I'm not sure what that means, and I don't know if I have a curriculum or if I'm writing it myself, but hopefully I'll find out soon.  The kids who are 6th graders now are awesome, though, so I'm looking forward to next year.  

The highlight of November so far has been going and spending the day with one of the teachers from the bilingual school, Deslinn, who's 21.  I took the bus on Saturday to Rio Esteban, where she lives with her family.  I didn't know where her house was, but I knew Francesca, a little girl who lives in Rio Esteban.  When I saw Frances sitting in front of her house, I stopped to talk to her.  She's probably four or five, and the cutest kid, but she wasn't super helpful.  When I asked her if she knew where Deslinn lived, her friend who was with her pointed one direction.  And then Frances grinned and said, "Mentira!" ("Lie"), but she wouldn't say where Deslinn's house really was.  It all worked out, though, because I had Deslinn's number and I eventually found her.  

I love Deslinn's family.  She lives with her Dad and Mom and her two younger sisters, her younger brother, and her two-year-old nephew, Deybinson.  They're all so funny.  Particularly Deybinson.  We were watching TV and eating lunch, and every time music came on the TV, he'd stop eating and stand up and start dancing.  He was so cool.  Once he learned my name, he followed Deslinn and I around and if we weren't paying attention to him, he let us know. "Hannah, Haaannah.  Haaaaaannah."  Yes?  Then he'd grin.

I went to their Saturday night church service with them.  Apparently, they go to the same church as Bictelia, the director of the school, and her daughter, Delmy, who is a teacher.  Doris, Deyni, Marta, and Angel, some students at school, also were there.  I love seeing the kids outside of school.  Then I feel like I don't just teach them, but I'm getting to know them.  

Deslinn's dad isn't the pastor there, but he preached that night.  He talked about Revelation chapter 17, about the vision John had of the Great Beast and the Prostitute.  He talked about being wary, and paying attention, and the hope we have in the promises made.  "They will make war on the Lamb, and the Lamb will conquer them, for he is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those with him are called and chosen and faithful" (Revelation 17:14).  I didn't understand everything, but I got most of it.

When people speak slowly and not super slurred, I can generally understand what they say.  Deslinn kept telling people we'd meet, "She knows Spanish."  But they'd still ask her, "Who is she?  Who is la gringa?" as if I couldn't understand.  Deslinn's younger siblings didn't know I knew what they were saying at first, but they figured it out.  And then they started talking to me, quickly.  Woah, woah.   Repeat that?  I did learn new words, though.  It's so exciting to me!

When I left Sunday morning, Deslinn's mom said that she hoped my first visit wouldn't also be my last.  I hope so, too. 

One thing I've been missing recently is the aromas and sights and tastes of fall in Virginia.  My desktop background is a rainy street lined with trees that are losing their bright orange leaves, and I made applesauce last night to add a little bit of the taste and scent of autumn.  Hot cinnamon and apples...yes, that is what November should smell like.

Also, as I'm reading through Isaiah, I'm enjoying celebrating Christmas.  I'm sorry if you hate all the Christmas music that gets played over and over and if you dislike seeing Santa Claus and holly stems in Walmart before Thanksgiving.  I can understand that.  A little bit.  I actually really enjoy all of the "holiday cheer" stuff.  But anyways, whatever your celebratory preferences, I don't think these "Christmas" verses will be annoying.  They're too beautiful.  

The people who walked in darkness 

have seen a great light; 

those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, 

on them has light shined...

For to us a child is born, 

to us a son is given; 

and the government shall be upon his shoulder, 

and his name shall be called 

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  

Of the increase of his government and of peace 

there will be no end, 

on the throne of David and over his kingdom, 

to establish it and to uphold it 

with justice and righteousness from this time forth and forevermore.  

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. 

~Isaiah 9:2, 6-7

Eryn, Jenni (a nurse who came here for three weeks), and I at the beach

 This is Amy.  She's in kindergarten at W. Ragar bilingual school, and sometimes I get to teach her.  She is so cute and bossy and smart.   She just makes me laugh.  

Gloriously Inadequate

"Okay, Hannah.  We've looked at your application for a position to serve food in the cafeteria at this hospital, and we've decided to hire you on as a nurse.  We know you have absolutely no training, but that's where we want you."

What?  That's ridiculous.  I'm not qualified to do that.  I'm going to fail, and someone's going to get hurt.  I can't.  

That's a little how I've been feeling, like God has asked me to go somewhere and serve Him in ways that I simply can't.   I just can't.  I feel inadequate.  And it's not just that I feel inadequate, it's that I know I am.  I'm not wise enough, loving enough, patient enough, strong enough, selfless enough, humble enough...I'm not enough.   I'm too ignorant and proud and selfish and weak. 

Sometimes I feel scared of misrepresenting Christ, scared of making mistakes in Jesus' name and messing up others' view of Him.  I know that I'm fully capable of making every mistake in the book, and fully incapable of doing anything perfectly.  

There are situations that God has put me in that I have never been in before, problems He's set in front of me that I have never had to solve, places He's taken me that I don't recognize.  Like He plops me in the middle of a jungle and tells me to find my way through, or gives me an edge-less puzzle and tells me to put it together without a reference photo.  

But, this is what I love.  He knows I'm not able.  He knows that on my own, I will fail.  Every time.  BUT.  

Thanks be to God, who gives us victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:57).  He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with my weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).  I can be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord my labor is not in vain (1 Corinthians 15:58).  When I thought, "My foot slips!", His steadfast love held me up (Psalm 94:18).  His word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Psalm 119:105).  

I think this is absolutely amazing.  God can and will glorify himself through us, even us, the imperfect people that we are.  The Holy Spirit is with us.  He's guiding us, giving us strength.  Everything isn't up to us, it's up to God.  And he's so much bigger than we are.  I am so at peace when I understand this.  I will sing of your strength; I will sing aloud of your steadfast love in the morning (Psalm 59:16).  Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.  So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands (Psalm 63:3-4).