Leeeeaaaaaaaaaaavin’ On a…1998 Suzuki Sidekick?

     So one thing about Costa Rican culture that I have encountered: it tends to be very non-confrontational which can at times just verge on passive aggressive.  Not surprisingly, in a town of about 180 people like La Esperanza, chisme (gossip) spreads like wildfire and more often than not if you ever really really need to know some piece of info, you will almost always be the last person in town to find out.  Well, I learned first-hand the interesting situations that can arise in such a culture when I was…wait for it….waaaaaaaaaaait for it…kicked out of my host family’s house!!  I won`t go too much into the details other than to say that I found out one day about 3 weeks ago (from my school director, not actually from my host family) that my host family just didn’t want to have a volunteer anymore (don’t worry I didn’t do anything really stupid to actually deserve an eviction) and I would have to leave that day to go to another family who would graciously host me for the remaining three months.  My neighbor, who naturally knew about this before me picked me up in his 1998 Suzuki and off we went about 5 minutes up the hill to my new family!  To sum up, I learned several valuable things. 1) Sometimes a blessing in disguise takes off its mask after only a few hours. 2) A year is not nearly long enough to understand ALL the subtleties of a different culture. 3) When under pressure, I can clean up my entire room here and move out in about 45 minutes, so if I accidentally commit a felony here, I can get out quick! Hooray!  Long story short, I am very happy (dare I say happier?) with this new family.  I am now living with the family of one of my struggling students so I will be able to help him all the time with English and given the amount of reading I have been doing with so much free time, having a porch with a big comfortable chair overlooking the coffee mountains now ain’t too shabby.  I also actually like living a little further from the school.  My old house was literally about 50 feet from the school and this new one is about a 15 minute walk and I’ve found I much prefer waking up earlier and having a relaxed breakfast (gallopinto and coffee is not designed to be downed quickly) and walking with my students as oppossed to rushing through breakfast and leaving the house 2 minutes before school starts just because I lived so close. Sometimes the move does break my heart a little bit, like yesterday when my old family’s adorable dog named Braudi followed me all the way from the school to my new house and waited on the porch staring at me for an hour until he finally realized/accepted I wasn’t going to walk back to the old house.  It’s okay though, me and Braudi are still good pals.  Dear Braudi, if you are reading this right now, I miss you and I hope you can accept this for what it is...We’ll always have La Esperanza.  Also, if you are reading this right now, holey gallopinto Batman we’re gonna be so RICH! You can read! Your friend, Mark. p.s. Can you talk too???

Meet The School!

     If I haven’t already said it once or twice or seven thousand times…life scampers along here on a very small scale.  There is that old saying about life throwing unexpected curveballs our way.  This year is more like a change-up and I have had to slow my roll in almost every facet of life in order to be in time here.  Now, as I have mentioned before, my school is just me, the director, the cook, and my former 23, now 18 students.  What happened to almost a ¼  of my class??? They moved away to other parts of Costa Rica:-(  Below is the memorial I have established in my classroom in honor of those who have left us...I have commemorated each of them by hanging their old nametags high so their legacy will echo in the cathedral of memory for all eternity.

    Even more sadly, 4 of my fallen soldiers were 1st graders leaving my 1st grade class with a student:teacher ratio of 1:1.  Yep, just me and cute little Esteban coloring our asses off every day!  Yesterday I taught him how to tie his shoes!  Arguably the most adorable/least English related thing I have taught this year!  Since I didn’t know how to say “loop, swoop, and pull” in Spanish, I had to default to the obviously inferior “oidos de conejo” (bunny ears) method.  Needless to say, Esteban got an A.  I realized afterwards it would have been a great opportunity to reinforce “bunny” and “ears” in English, but I can just put that one in my overflowing box of “Awesome ways I realize I should have taught a lesson after I’ve already taught it with total mediocrity”. Eh, que sera sera.  Another funny sidenote, Esteban’s older sister Mauren is my only 5th grader so I like to joke to myself that their parents picked an unpopular year in La Esperanza to have sex.  Anyway, with such small classes (my largest class now being 7 students; my 6th graders), there are definite disadvantages.  Okay 1st grader, let’s get into groups of one, time to play tic tac toe!  Good job Team Esteban you win!  Here’s a chocolate.  Sorry Team Esteban, you also paradoxically lose:-(…no chocolate for you!  And please give the chocolates you won earlier to the winning team.  However, despite the occasional slow-pace and inevitable existential chocolate problem, having so few students has its definite upsides, and I think the number one advantage is how well I have gotten to know all of my students.  Instead of spending the whole year just trying to remember names (and I am NOT good at remembering names), I had that down pat in about the first week and since then have been able to focus on really getting to know each student and at this point have visited all of their houses at least once.  So since I am lucky enough to know my students so well, it is only fair that I share them with you!

1ST GRADE

Esteban a.k.a The Lone Ranger
Age 6
Greatest Skill:  Fastest “Quiet Coyote” South of Mexico
Favorite Songs:  Days of the Week, ABCs, The Color Song, Baby Got Back
Favorite day:  Friday (because he thinks every day is Friday)
Superpowers:  shoe-tying, unstoppable giggling, crayon sharpening
Adorability level:  9.2
Location of his sillys:  OUT!!

2ND GRADE

Lauren a.k.a Lauren-Bauren-Face

Age 7
Volume: excessive
Favorite type of weather: happy
Most common emotion: sunny
Favorite day of the week: January
Ability to differentiate emotions, days of the week, and weather conditions in English: negligible
Favorite Game: holding my hands while I stand on her feet to keep her in place and then slamming her forehead into my abs as hard as she can
Dream Job: being a foghorn
Favorite letters to pick in a game of hangman: Z, Q, X

Brandon a.k.a. Brandoni-Bologna-Head

Age 8
Favorite flavored crayon: sunshine yellow
High-Five frequency: 5/microsecond
Energy Level: methamphetamines
Favorite whine: “teaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaCCCHHHHeeeeeeerrrrrrr!!!!!”
Favorite wine: 78’ Pinot Noir
Line budging: pathological

Gabriel a.k.a. Gabrielito-Tito

Age 7
Height: adorable
Weight: probably
Favorite Hair Style: bed head
English proficiency: yes!
Favorite number: shmifteen
Irony of his two previous attributes: duly noted

Yohana a.k.a Yohana-Banana

Age 8
Ethnicity: Panamanian Indigenous Indian
Favorite Dance Style: self-conscious and uncomfortable
Favorite types of hugs: ones that don’t involve people touching her
Time spent walking to and from school daily: 2 ½ hours
Unexpected class sidekick: Lauren-Bauren

3RD GRADE

Ezekiel a.k.a. Zeekie-Baby
Age 9
Intentions: only the best
Easily: loved, confused, content
Disposition: sweet and unassuming
Biggest/most endearing English-related challenge: pronunciation

Andres a.k.a. Andresitoooooo
Age 9
Attitude: daily
Favorite import: hair gel
Favorite things that begin with “sa…” : rcasm, ss, limanders, rdines, xophones, lmon, botaging my lesson plans
Pain: in the neck
Location of my soft spot for him: my heart
Most likely future job: post-undergrad volunteer Spanish teacher in the United States

4TH GRADE

Yinia a.k.a Curls

Age 9
Love interests: Teacher Mark
Favorite Heart Placements: on her shoes, on her homework, where the dots in her “i” should be, on her tests, on her hands, on her arms
Intelligence Level: off the charts
Most guarded secret: she is already fluent in 11 languages and is only taking the class to draw me pictures of smiley faces

Nicol a.k.a. Nicolita Bonita

Age 9
Self-perceived age: 34
“ists”: perfection, femin, hair styl
Relationship with Teacher Mark: love/hate
Effort: frustratingly inconsistent
Sass: frustratingly consistent

Daniel a.k.a. Danny-Boy

Age 12
Apparent favorite grade: 4th
Secret Wish: to learn English…he’s just realllllly good at keeping his secret and letting everyone else believe he doesn’t care
My confidence that the above statement is actually true: 59%
Favorite English word: boobies
Statistically Proven Comedic Value of the word “boobies” – 97/100...well played Danny-boy…well played

5TH GRADE

Mauren a.k.a. The Lone Rangerette

Age 11
Favorite classmate: Teacher Mark
Effort in school: equal to an 11 year old me, i.e. not much
Probable future career: actress, singer, overall goofball
Ease of peeking her interest to pay attention in class: running the Tour de France with a broken leg
Dear Karma,: touche

6TH GRADE

Pablo a.k.a. Pabs

Age 12
Most prized classroom possession: 8 glitter gel pens
Personality: glitter gel pen
Celebrity Crush: the Jonas Brothers
Hidden talents: drawing, choreography, interior design of my classroom
Classroom Role: Eccentric Cousin

Rebeca a.k.a Rebequita a.k.a Alpha Female

Age 12
Future Breaker of:  hearts, balls, rules, expectations
Actual Career goals:  gynecologist, nurse, nun, or missionary
Opportunities to get away with breaking balls in gynecology, hearts in nursing, rules in the nunnery, and expectations as a missionary:  ironically lacking
Classroom Role: Mom

Mayerlin a.k.a. JohnMayerLindonJohnson

Age 12
Favorite face to give teacher in class: skeptical smile
What the skeptical smile means: “Teacher you have no idea what you’re doing do you…”
Hidden Talent: appears to not know English but can still understand all the jokes I make to myself during class to keep myself entertained
Classroom Role: Cool Aunt

Yilania a.k.a. Y-clef

Age “12”
Height: lots of it!
Estimated real age: 17
Favorite classroom hobby: singing “La Camisa Negra”
Biggest teacher mistake she reminds me of: playing the students “La Camisa Negra” without thinking about the lyrics and the fact that they know Spanish.
Classroom Role: Fun Step-Mom

Leivin a.k.a. “on a jetplane”

Age 12
Most common expression: enthusiastic bewilderment
Puberty: just around the corner
Attention span: Josh Hatcher
Potential: more than he knows
Classroom Role: Spacey Dad

Victor Daniel a.k.a. Victorino

Age 12
Favorite things to hug: people
Height and Weight: a lot more than he realizes when he jumps on my back
Spirit Animal: the tortoise; a little slow but steady and determined
Class Role: Problem Child

Yuri a.k.a. Jewwwwwri

Age 12
Hair: Avatar ponytail
Role Model: Tyra Banks
Similarities to Avatars: knows little English; fear of white Americans, is 9 feet tall with blue skin
Class Role: Too-cool-for-school Older Sister

16 Days in Nicaragua: My life as a traveller, a fugitive, and an honorary Nicaraguan

Nicaragua…god what a country! This whopper of a yarn of a tale of a legend all began with a single taxi ride.  Sure, it all started out innocently enough. Our protagonists awoke with the dimly lit crease of light coming through the window in their budget hostel dorm room.  They sauntered with bravado and enthusiasm onto the streets of San Jose, armed with nothing more than stuffed camping backpacks (known on the streets as “Tourist Beacons”), brooding confidence, a Lonely Planet guide, and unending hope.  Little did they know that ahead of them lay a path of adventure, intrigue, unsolved enigmatic mysterious quagmires, run on sentences, and the heaven-sent marriage of 1 dollar beers and 6 dollar a night hostels that would change their lives, if not forever, then at least for like a week or two. 

CHAPTER 1: Travellers

Country of origin: Costa Rica. Primary Destination: TransNica Bus Stop, San Jose. Secondary Destination: Nicaragua.  Suspects:  Caucasian American, considered unarmed and dangerously white.  Given Names: Eric “look at my biceps” Dunford and Mark “my words” Sobel.  Known aliases: DunnyBear and BearJew; White Lightning; The Lesson Planners; El Toro Empanada and The Grandma Whisperer. Ages: 23.  Sex: not until they learn how to salsa dancebetter.  Blog Entry Preference: needlessly long and noir.

It was approxametely 7 pm, E.S.T, when the duo finally crossed the border.  To lesser men, a 9 hour busride into uncharted terrain could prove terrifying if not more likely, fatal, but after months of unexpected changes in schedules, living on Tico Time, and having nothing go quite as planned, our lads simply laughed like barbaric Viking warriors in the face of such a paltry challenge.  But when they really had to pee it kind of sucked.  Anyway, arrived they did in the fine colonial shire of Granada, Nicaragua.  Accustomed only to Costa Rica, a country whose gems lay 2% in the cities and 98% in the nature far from the masses, our gents were quite taken by such a beautiful and charmed Central American metropolis.  Thus, the journey began with a pleasant surprise.  The oldest city in Central America, Granada was but a collage of tree lined squares, externally derelict but internally majestic cathedrals, and colorfully changing architecture.  However, juxtaposing all of this was the striking contrapasso of barefoot children running around the streets and returning to their houses that looked equally decrepit on the inside and out.  They soon realized the general picture one can paint of Nicaragua: in the background a soaring volcano surrounded by greenery.  In the foreground a barely clothed child either begging for money or playing in a dirty puddle.  Though the duo would surely return to the fine city of Granada later in their quest, for now further adventures lay ahead that needed immediate tending to.  First and foremost was the mystical Isla de Ometepe, where they spent their 4^th of the month of Julius.  Deep within the heart of this fine country, surrounded on all sides by the massive Lago Nicaragua is this magical island made up of two perfectly shaped volcanoes connected by a narrow isthmus.  Upon their arrival, the young sirs turned to each other and agreed instantly regarding the beauty and grandiosity of themysterious land with a hearty, “holy shit, dude!”  It was on this island that they met their first compatriots; troubadours of sorts you might say.  Following a traditional Nicaraguan feast of pizza and beer, our young squires marched through the twilight to a lovely hostel by the welcoming name of Indio Viejo (the Old Indian).  Of all the fellow wanderers they befriended, from the two German girls whose bodies only just compensated for their personalities to the fearless but awesome leader of a group of eighteen 17 year old American girls, the most remembered by the judge of time will sure be the two Brits (Nigel and Joe…and I can’t believe we actually ran into a British dude named Nigel either) and he who is simply dubbed “Predator Hair”.  Predator hair, whose real name is neither remembered nor relevant, was the well-aged proprietor of the Indio Viejo, presumably the Indio Viejo himself.  He was a man defined by the time he lacked; for shoes since 1981; to show us a cheaper room because he didn’t want to climb the stairs; and to comb his hair out of the single most transcendent dreadlock I dare say has ever blessed a person’s scalp.  Oh yes, for he nay had dreadlocks, but merely a single 7 inch wide dread lock falling just above his arse.  As legend has it, every three hundred years on the seventh day of the seventh month when the moon is at its highest, the hair comes to life and feeds upon the hair of lesser beings.  Hitherto, the young wanderers imbibed ale and rum with the other members of the house of the Indian late into the wee hours as Predator Hair simply watched and read in peace.  The next day, our heroes arose to a day where the sun shines as though it is shining for the first time…as though they are the first men ever to see it.  With the two British fellows in tow, the foursome set about to circle the islands on mighty two wheeled steeds (i.e. mopeds).  And ye, they explorethneareth and fareth, to the far shores to swim in the gloomy waters of Lago Nicaragua and enjoy the rare sunshine and skies of crystalline blue.  Oh the four men rode mightily and swiftly they did; their honored only tarnished by several groups of 12 year old school girls that laughed at them because they were riding girly motorcycles.  Indeed it was a traditional American 4^th of July; a day filled with polluting the air and trying to get to our destination faster than the British. With warm goodbyes they left the island when the sun rose in the morrow and aboard they went to a great water vessel that a man drove lying down steering with his feet.  With this, they were departed from the great island (and consequently from the fine British gents and Predator Hair as well) even faster than my writing style in this story has switched from film noir to an odyssey of yesteryear.

Upon leaving the great isle our fellows continued northerly, past the wide plains and fuming volcanoes of the South West to arrive in the great city of Leon and it is here my  friends, where are protagonists luck suddenly took an unexpected turn. Oh shit.

CHAPTER 2: Fugitives

                Now days into their journey with miles to go and further memories to make, Dunnybear and BearJew found themselves at the heart of Nicaragua; the city of Leon.  Known far and wide as the country’s epicenter of artistry and revolution, this city opened its arms to the men offering them 1 dollar dinners made for kings by night and streets lined with merchants by day.  After a relaxed first evening of billiards and glog with the local riff raff, they retired early with hopes of a full day to come…if only they knew how full it would be.  After hours of meandering through rows of merchants, getting lost in the maze of seemingly endless cathedrals, and buying Spanish versions of Kung Fu Panda for their students, the brave warriors finally set their sights on the main attraction: the Basilica de la Asuncion which of course in English translates to “Run Away Eric and Mark”…sadly the lads Spanish was lacking in fluency and foolishly they believed it to be the Basilica of the Asuncion…ha! FOOLS! After striking the palm of the gatekeeper with 2 dollars of silver, they entered to climb the stairs to the roof for a view of the city below and the country side in the distance.  And ah what a view it was!  Laughs were had and joy was flowing like a river.  But then, alas! Nay it cannot be!  As the fellows were taking pictures, down below in the town square approached a man of uniform, gesturing  “Get down gringo…I don’t wanna have to handcuff your ass!”. And oh get down they did and left to explore other regions of the roof and their asses remained uncuffed…but not for long.  Rising like a phoenix up the stairs a gentleman and lady of uniform approached the confused men and delivered the most dastardly news a man can here “follow me”.  Fearing the possible retribution of his club and firearm, the boys obeyed silently but with faces of confusion and increasing fear.  Minutes later they arrived…in Nicaraguan jail.  Milliseconds turned to seconds and seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to about an hour…but that’s about it.  The boys awaited in their prison cell, passing time taking photos and videos of their current misfortune for the face of the book, singing sad dirges about their folly, and longingly watching the birds outside fly free from the shackles of imprisonment.  An hour or so past and the verdict came to the young sirs in the form of a man in a track suit who was apparently in the department of intelligence.  And it was now my readers that these boys learned a sobering and valuable lesson about their Spanish abilities; you don’t really know a language until you’re in a prison that only has 3 walls and on the open side a dude with a shotgun is just standing around watching you and you can understand what a cop is yelling at you about.  It had seemed that a misunderstanding of great proportion took place for the boys were simply innocently taking pictures, unawares that they were in a prohibited part of the roof.  After several bewildering exchanges with the man of the law, the boys heard the only word they needed to here “vayase!” (leave!).  In a daze and caught off guard by their sudden liberation, the boys hesitantly walked from their cell, unsure ultimately if they were actually being freed or if they were accidentally escaping from jail, for other than “vayase”, they had heard the man utter something about a supermarket, a bathroom, his country versus America, something about clothes, and something about little boys.  It was then, minutes later as the boys were struggling to comprehend their predicament that a fearful thought shot into their heads with the fury of 1000 burning suns, “Did they want us to come back??? I don’t know much about prison but I don’t think they usually tell you to go to a supermarket to buy food and go home and get your teddybear to make the stay more comfortable, but…maybe??”  With this mutual doubt and the paranoia that is only brought upon by unsure freedom, the boys made the natural choice to flee the great city of Leon and live as potential fugitives on the beach for a few days.  They arrived to their sandy paradise past dusk and toasted with a congratulatory ale to celebrate their freedom(though at the time sipped fearfully as they hoped dearly that it was not a premature celebration) and watched a lightning storm over the ocean that only Zeus himself could have conjured…ultimately the boys apprehension was undue as, of course, they were indeed set free

CHAPTER 3: Being an Honorary Nicaraguan.

                After a short respite from their odyssey to enjoy the Pacific sun, the dynamic duo continued even further into the depths of Nicaragua to the very rarelytouristed, mysterious Caribbean Coast.  However, it is here where ½ of this team of 2 separated and retreated back to his homeland of Costa Rica due to the arrival of his American parents.  So onward young Mark of La Esperanza went, alone and both exhilarated and scared to be travelling without his companion.  He explored this magical land in a place called Pearl Lagoon and realized that unlike the rest of Nicaragua, on this coast the language of choice was English creole and the years of sun had tinted the skin of the natives not the soft brown of the other Nicaraguans, but rather a rich and deep Caribbean black.  Though he travelled alone, he was not alone for long.  Only briefly after his isolated ventures ensued did he come upon two ladies of the American persuasion.  Both coming from Latino backgrounds they hailed from the Calif of Ornia, each a student enjoying a summer before entering undergraduate studies.  And oh the adventures the new trio had!  Going to lunch.Talking for hours on rocking chairs.Going to dinner.Drinking rum together.  Actually that was about it…so on the morrow he bid farewell to the lovely maidens and again ventured alone…but this time he was alone for even less time.  During a stroll in the afternoon sun on the one road that led through the vast savannah, he stumbled upon a gaggle of village women standing waist deep in the river washing their clothes.  Around him naked children smiled and laughed as they played in the water.  He smiled at this most foreign way of life and watched the goings on for but a short while and then continued merrily on his way…but only for about 50 feet before he was beckoned.  Behind him a booming voice called, “hey brodah why you do walk alone we make walk togederman!”.  And if he had a nickel for every time he was walking in a savannah and a black guy screamed that to him he thought to himself…and abandoning his travelling instincts that are guided by American cynicism, he turned on his heel and back he went to join this jovial and friendly fellow for a lovely stroll.  This stroll with this random fellow, Sir Rudolph, ended up leading to quite an unexpected gift indeed.  Further abandoning his instincts, our solo protagonist chose to trust his new friend and accepted an invitation into his domicile for an afternoon meal and good conversation in his village by the name of Raiti-Pura (in Miskito that means “above the grave”).  The food and conversation eventually bled into the night and a smorgasbord of insanely fresh fish, coconut bread, cassava, breadfruit, and coconut milk ensued like that which he had never dared dream.  The next day, at the request of his new Nicaraguan family, young Sobel bid ado to his hostel and again traversed the single savannah road with all his belongings to stay with his new friends.  He went with an open mind, but still on his guard and what followed can only be described as generosity beyond generosity.  He slept like a prince in a private bedroom and ate like a emperor for 2 ½ days with his new family.  Though they had barely a coin to spare, one lightbulb in the house, and an outhouse with no running water, they refused any payment other than his company and his friendship.  He learned that they were of the Miskito people, an indigenous tribe that is the second largest in all of Latin America, second to the Mayans.  He learned their ways and how to say such fantastical things as “How are you?”, “Are we going fishing tomorrow?”, and “Shall we drink alcohol now?” in their beautiful Miskito tongue.  He went crab fishing in a dugout canoe and bathed in the lagoon.  He sat on a dock with an elder and sipped rum from the bottle as he was regaled with the people’s history.  After 3 days of not opening his wallet or his guidebook, he, with a reluctant sigh and a pout finally left their house to return to hisTico homeland, but only after promising them that he would return and be their white gringo honorary black Caribbean son and brother again.  Behold, a mere 22 hours later riding upon the finest school busses, 8 of which he had no seat for, he finally saw the church steeple of La Esperanza on the horizon, and knew, with a smile and a sense of surrealism, that he was home.  And so my readers, this story ends not with a prison cell or an ill-fated call to the American embassy, but rather with a belly full of Caribbean delicacy, warm memories of the extraordinary generosity that can be found from impoverished strangers, and the general satisfaction of a wonderful trip.  What a country indeed!

Teaching is sort of like...

…eating a jawbreaker.  Wait wait, hear me out.  You start out full of hope and excitement, looking forward to the long journey ahead, but then after hours and hours of work it seems like you have made zero progress.  It started out so sweet and new and full of color, but now at times it just seems bland and monotonous.  But then, wait!  Could it be that you have finally broken through??? Nope, false alarm. Just another unforeseen layer to work on.  And also, much like when you are bored with a jawbreaker, when you get fed up with a student you put it in a plastic bag and shove it in the refrigerator. Right???  Well, today was one of those days (with my kids not with jawbreakers…I don’t think they sell jawbreakers in Costa Rica unless they are plantain flavored), where my kids had the miraculous ability that only kids seemto have of taking me on an emotional rollercoaster ride from average, down to depressed, and up to euphoric all in about 12 minutes.

                Physically, my classroom has a lot of strange juxtapositions.  The school itself is 66 years old and it doesn’t look like much has changed exteriorly since it was constructed.  From the outside, my classroom looks like a tiny little green house…possibly even a large playhouse you would expect to find in a backyard.   I think the outside is misleading though, as the inside is really quaint…except for the 17 computers lining the walls.  I don’t have enough desks some days for my students and we are definitely not even close to breaking free from the clutches of the blackboard era and storming into the 21^st centuries with whiteboards, but from an incredible donation, we have tons of computers with internet  AND built in English learning programs.  At first I felt almost overwhelmed by the technology and resources available to me to teach.  For a fleeting moment I even felt a little less useful and borderline pointless in the school since they had English learning programs on the computers to use, but I convinced myself that a real person is more useful…gosh I hope its true!  Anyway, the deal I set up with the kids is that if they are good during the week, we can use the computers on Friday, which naturally led to the students making the sad but true point that we almost NEVER have school Friday, so I told them whatever day of the week happens to be the last day of the week (which is unfortunately more often than not, Wednesday), we will use the computers.  Now, I thought this was pretty fair!  And the kids seemed to really like it and accept it...for a bit.  After all, if you give a 1^st grader a cookie, he’s gonna want a glass of milk.  So today all of my 1^st and 2^nd graders literally through a tantrum in the first 5 minutes of class because they wanted to use the computers and I told them that a) it’s only Tuesday and we never use them on Tuesday and b) we need to practice because they know they have a test on Thursday.  Nothing.  They were not having it.  And I was really surprised because I absolutely love these kids and honestly, most of the time they are twice as mature and patient as the 3^rd and 4^th graders who raise my blood pressure every class.  So after many minutes of trying to explain why we weren’t going to use the comps todayand them just not understanding or accepting, I eventually teacher stared all of them and did the whole waiting in silence with a serious “I’m not mad, just disappointed” face until they all stopped talking.  As a tiny backtrack I start every class by asking them “how are you” and all of my students were sad because we weren’t using computers.  Okay, and we’re back to me teacher staring and them listening.  So two of my awesome 2^nd graders, Brandon and Lauren (such tico names right? Though they are pronounced “Brahn-done” and “Lah-oo-ren”) kept telling me they were happy now, I think because they felt guilty, and I told them all that I was sad because they weren’t listening and because there was no respect in the classroom today.  So Lauren and Brandon starting rallying the other kids by asking them, “How are you?” and everyone would say “I’m happy” and then they all started chanting it.  Lauren then said what I think is the cutest thing I have ever heard: pero teacher, siustedestafeliz, estoyfeliz.  Pero, cuandoustedestatriste, estoytristetambien (but teacher, if you are happy, I am happy.  But when you are sad, I am sad too).  So now I have a classroom of kids looking at me like guilty little puppies and I am thinking to myself “What the hell happened? Are these the same kids that were just yelling and calling me mean 2 minutes before”.  And before I could even go to Lauren and profess my undying admiration for her, ALL of my students jumped out of their chairs and literally tackled me to the ground in a group hug and wouldn’t get off of me until I told them I felt happier.  I quite literally could not stay mad at them.  Maybe the love and respect of a 6 year old is superficial and fickle because all I really need to do is high five them for them to think I’m Jesus, but this was the first time any of my students really showed outward care for me.  Since I have been here, I have been so busy trying to care for all of my students and even though it has been hard at times, I have perfected over the years  the skill of convincing the outside world I am totally fine when inside I am exploding (a skill I am trying to get rid of because its ultimately dishonest and unhealthy).  There have definitely been times here when I have felt alone and like there is nobody I could really go to who will understand my troubles.  I realized that this time in class was really the first time I had just let down my guard and let myself show my students how I was actually feeling instead of forcing a smile and just continuing with class and it was overwhelming to realize that the care is reciprocal.  Now, maybe they just felt guilty because they knew my sadness stemmed from being mad at them, but I would like to think they just genuinely want to see teacher happy.  Again, maybe the emotions of kids are too fickle to put a lot of stock in, but its classes like that that make this often thankless job completely worth doing.

"Exercising" in La Esperanza

            So in the months in between graduating from U of R and coming to Costa Rica, I was in by far the best shape of my life.  I started running, trained for a half marathon, and for the first time in my life was really starting to embrace a daily active and healthy lifestyle…I credit most of this to my temporary move to San Diego to live with Rina for 4 months prior to leaving the States.  I think when one moves to southern California, a once dormant gene that was simply waiting in a state of cryostasis maintained by several consecutive Northeast Winters is awakened.  I call this gene the Crunchy Granola Gene (or CGG as it will be called in scientific journals years from now) , whereas upon its infusion into the once hermit-like East Coasters bloodstream,  waking up at 5 am to go for a 7 mile run seems like a fantastic idea and delicious Philly Cheesesteaks are replaced with foods with the word “Power” in the name (Powerade, Powerbar, Powershakes, Powerwaffles, Powercheeseburgers, Powerbeersetc…).  So, even upon my departure from California, remnants of CGG were still pulsating in my veins, and producedlike a little voice in my head saying things like “Oh man look at that steep mountain…I bet I should climb it barefoot!” and “Oh look mud!  I bet I should walk in that barefoot!” and “Oh look my shoes!...Fuck you shoes!”.  The moral of the story is that since being in La Esperanza, I have been trying to combat the 6 meals and 4-5 cups of coffee I drink everyday by going on runs, which is usually met with strange looks from the locals as I gallop awkwardly up the coffee hills in the rain.  Today however, I had an especially Tico style run that I want to share.  I usually go on the same 3-4 mile round trip run from my house to the edge of town where the dirt road meets the paved road and back.  Even though it’s a short run, its so hilly that I am usually pretty spent when I get back.  Since I haven’t gone on a run or really moved more than 1 mph since Rina and I climbed Cerro Chirripo 2 weeks ago (stories of her visit here to come in the next post!!), I decided to get back into the habit and go for a run today to get my butt back in shape.  Since there was no school today (which is not at all rare these days:-/), I woke up around 8 and off I went!  I made it abouutttt 2 km until I made the fatal mistake of saying hi as I passed by my host mom’s cousin’s house (this is only a fatal mistake in terms of the continuity of a run, but always great when in the mood for some good conversation and a cafecito).  This naturally led to a tour of her beautiful house, an introduction to her 2 cows, 24 chickens, 6 huge pigs, and 28 weeee little 4 day old piglets.  This was followed by her showing me baby pictures of all her kids and then giving me coffeand  5 of her homemade sweet breads (she makes breads and sells them to the local towns as her business).  After about 2 hours visiting, off I went again!...for about 1 km.  Then I, truly not learning from my previous mistake, said hello to all the folks (5 of them) working at the trapiche as I past (the trapiche is the little sugar cane mill in town) which of course led to a 30 minute stay while eating hot sugar cane off a piece of wood and drinking aguadulce, which is a sweet hot drink made from the cane.  Finally, with a very full stomach, I ran the remaining 2km home or so.  So to sum up….3 1/2 hour run. 3 miles covered. Breakfast, a snack and desert.  This about sums up my level of activity here!  I think it is these type of unexpected morning that I will really miss when I go back in the states.  I have become SO accustomed to the hospitality, the friendliness, and the nosiness of people here that I don’t notice it at all anymore until I really and think about it.  I literally cannot walk anywhere in town without everyone I pass asking me where I am going and why, even if I am only walking to the school, which is about 60 feet from my house.  I think when I go back to the states, I will be very confused when nobody stops me as I walk around the streets of Philly just to ask me why I am there, where I am going, and if I have a novia (girlfriend).  I have also become used to running into a familiar face in the street meaning at the very least a halt in forward momentum to have a short conversation and running past a familiar house unexpectedly guarantees a tour, coffee, and more often than not, a full meal.  So, when I come home 100 pounds heavier but tell you that I ran every day, now you will understand the mystery.  Puravida.

1000 Apologies for the 2 Month Hiatus, But I'm Here Now To Share With You Stories of Latest!

Oh what’s up June!  Where the hell did you come from??  I was just hanging out with January a few days ago it seems and now you show up all unannounced…sneaking up from out of nowhere and what not! You should be ashamed, June…ashamed!  Speaking of shame…this posts idiomabroma:

My Tico friend asked me the other day what my last name is.  I told him and he immediately went wide eyed and starting laughing hysterically.  Okay, fine buddy, I guess “Sobel” is pretty gringo sounding but I didn’t realize I made such a hilarious joke.  After he finally got his composure, he asked me to say it again.  Apparently, I really need to work on my annunciation in this country.  Sobel = the proud and dignified surname of my family crest and ancestry.  Sobo =” I masturbate”.  PERFECT!  Now when people ask me my last name, I pronounce each syllable with such over-the-top distinction for clarity that people are probably thinking I am having a stroke, but better they think I am having one “stroke” than several…if you know what I mean.

So I have been in La Esperanza for 4 months and Costa Rica in general for 5…insanity.  I really apologize for the 2 month lag in blogging…every time recently that I have sat down to write, I became overwhelmed with how much time has passed and all of the things that have happened and wouldn’t know how to start, so I would put it off, which just perpetuated my problem as more time passed.  I also have to admit, part of the reason that I haven’t been blogging as much recently is that I think I have been in somewhat of an existential dilemma regarding the microcosmic experience that is living in a new country for one year.  I think sometime in May, I hit the inevitable point where the novelty of almost all things had started to wear off.  At first, simply the mere act of speaking Spanish, even if only to disgrace my last name and ask my 12 year olds when the twins were due, was enough to make my day.  However, as the weeks past and turned into months, the uneven ratio of Awesome Spanish Conversation: Moments I Stared in Silence asPeople Around Me Discussed Things I Couldn’t Understand and I Would Occasionally Here My Name Mentioned Followed By Laughter (especially when my host mom talks because I can still sadly, barely understand anything she says), really started to get to me.  However, I think I am starting to feel more on the upswing in terms of attitude and ability regarding my Spanish now and the frustration has more just become a change in mindset.  I have started to learn the invaluable art of being content merely listening to and watching my environment without the constant feeling that I need to be outwardly engaging in it all the time.  Thus, the part of me that admittedly loves talking and never shuts the hell up often finds itself…shutting the hell up.  So, in this new spirit and also for the sake of continued blog entries, instead of a long and drawn out summary of vaguely descriptive memories and no-longer-relevant issues/mentalities of the past 2 months, I will sum it all up with this It’s The End of the World As We Know It/We Didn’t Start The Fire style rhyme scheme to bring everything up to the present.

Brother’s wedding, table setting, much romancing, Ticodancing, who came here? Former volunteer! Drinking lots of beer.

April starts, sun departs, town is quiet, rice/beans diet, Easter celebration, Panama vacation, better sanitation but tourism invasion, returning home=accidental illegal immigration, hop back on bus, passport stamps a must, make it back, sleep all week we lacked, but fun times had by all (two of us)!

Here comes May? What the hay?! It seems I got here yesterday!WorldTeachmidservice in San Jose, volunteers reunite yay!, shared stories we’ve had along the way, and then from the great U. S of A a friend flew down here just to play, his name Dan Israel a chap from school, “porque no?” was our only rule! A weekend spent with French girls by the beach, by Monday La Esperanza I’d reached, thenGave a test, some tried their best, some others less, Some kids need a kick in the butt, and some days I feel  quite in a rutt, Goddamnit kid I know you think you’re soooo cool and fine, but ultimately listen buddy…you’re 9…on the other hand I feel so lucky, with my 1^st graders cuter than a baby ducky, and some older ones making me notes and cards, protecting me like miniature bodyguards, some love to learn, some LOVE to annoy, some are so sincere and others just coy, some days I feel great, and others like sighing, okay sighing sounds manlier but truthfully..it’s closer to crying, so for those who say those who can’t do choose to teach, come over here so I can kick you hard in the ass (that doesn’t rhyme, it just needs to be said)…sooooo then I found a local waterfall, the hikes a pain but worth it all, built a ladder and set up my hammock, the jungle is my panoramic, bought a machete, though I’m probably not ready, destroyed the forest, a choice the poorest, found out messing with the wrong tree, leads to the WORST case of poison ivy, went to the Doc to fix my ills, to me he gave a lot of pills, antibiotics and benadryls, and two shots in my tush added to my bills

And now I lay in my warm cama on a cold “winter” night darker than Obama, I cannot sleep, not a wink or a peep, maybe take some benadryl??? Well, after all I have a heep!  Though it probably won’t work, I’m too excitied for manana, for in the afternoon comes my hermana!  It’s been too long since I have seen’a, but by 3pm tomorrow I’ll be with Rina!  For 10 days she will grace my presence, with her big bright smile and effervescence, though I’m excited as can be, I think my students are more excited than me, We’ve lots of plans and adventures to come, and I promise I won’t be a lazy bum, so more blogs coming soon, this time I swear, unless we’re eaten by a bear, but since no bear’s dwell in this land, I believe a new entry is shortly at hand, so goodnight for now till the next idiomabroma, time to drift off into an 8 hour coma.

Okay, admittedly it definitely got a little more “Twas the Night Before Christmas” with a little bit of Doctor Seuss towards the end there, but…I tried.  So, Merry Thursday to all and to all a goodnight!:-)

The kids got really excited to make cards for Rina's arrival (it's so adorable!) and th 3rd and 4th graders really wanted me to write something on the board in English they could copy so they could show off their English (/not have to think as hard)...so I just couldn't help myself to such a golden opportunity for them to show off...this card is compliments of my favorite 4th grader, Yinia:

Still Truckin Along and Slowly Forgetting English!

New tradition: I will start all of my blog entries with one new story of how my complete lack of mastery of Spanish has gotten me into trouble and I will call these fables, "Idioma Bromas" which means "Language Jokes"...because sometimes I just have to laugh...and also it rhymes!

This weeks Idioma Broma:

Last week in my 5th/6th grade class we started talking about boyfriends and girlfriends (always a dangerous topic) and the focus momentarily turned to my student Rebeca and her boytoy Raul.  I asked her if she was embarrased and we would change the subject and she didn't know the word embarrased so I wrote it on the bored and she gasped and laughed at me while waving her arms and saying, "no no no no!!".  You know what though, if I was a native Spanish speaker who spoke very little English,, I would think embarrased was English for "embarazado" too.  Incidentally, embarazado is actually Spanish for pregnant. Accidentally ask my 12 year old student if she is pregnant in the middle of class...check!

Now onto the update and goodness gracious it has been too long since I have written!  Thus, this blog might end up being longer than Moby Dick, Gone With the Wind, The Torah, and OJ Simpson's List of Regrets combined and I apologize in advance.

 So lots to catch up on and in the words of one of my first graders when he realized he left his pencils at home, "hijo de putica!".....where to start!  Hijo de putica = son of a bitch...actually techincally "puta" is bitch..."putica" is a bitchlette, or a small bitch to the lay person. "putica" (n): a bitch of deficient physical stature; etymological origin- Danny Devito.  At least when my 6 year old adorable students curse, their cursing is small and adorable too!  Don't worry...as a blossoming teacher and important role model I gave him the appropriate punishent for his vulgar transgression...I giggled at his cuteness and only gave him 3 hugs that day.  I think he learned his lesson.

So to back up a ways, about 3 weeks ago was the annual festival in La Esperanza.  Apparently every year the town has a 3 day weekend festival to raise money to buy something new for the town.  At first I was skeptical of the potential economic catch-22 situation of the only visitors to the festival being the people from La Esperanza, as the notion of people outside our coffee-laiden borders even knowing of our existence baffles me.  Though I am definitely starting to love the town and gain a sense of belonging and pride/possessiveness of my mountain shire, by comparison in terms of national intrigue and notoriety, if Costa Rica represented the whole world, La Esperanza would be Canada...yeah that's right Canadians, I said it!!!  However, the community was superb in getting the word out and throughout the 3 days, I reckon hundreds of people from nearby communities came to fiestar.  I was actually amazed by the transformation that occurred from the people in the community working together.  The different duties were all delogated 2 weeks before the festival (which should have been planned months before as they kept telling me, but hey...tico tiempo) and the "downtown" La Esperanza, formerly and usually comprised of a small field, a church, my school, and the giant corrugated-tin town salon was tranformed into a respectable festival with horse riding in the field, food and drink vendors in the school, and a bar and dancefloor with DJ in the town salon.  My part in the weekend was twofold.  At first I really didn't care what I did and just volunteered to help where needed because I was just excited to be involved and act as a part of the community to any degree, but all things considered, I think I had a pretty sweet gig as 1) the Co-founder, Vice President, and Ambassador of Condomant Management and Selection at Nito and Teacher Mark's hambuerguesa shack and 2) the part of "Priest Rosenbergstein" in a skit presented to the whole town.  So, to start with my entrepeunerial endeavors.  Basically, Nito (Erick my host brother) and I set up a makeshift hamburger stand by the church and made and sold them for all willing customers.  Now, I'm no mathmetician, but at 1000 colones a hamburger (about 2 dollars), I think we probably made about 11 million American dollars.  Seriously, those hamburgers were selling like hotcakes!  (ironically and paradoxically, the hotcakes at the stand down the road were only selling like hamburgers).  There really isn't too much to say about 2 days spent assisting with and often running a hamburger stand, but it did feel really cool to be integrated into such a huge community event and made me feel much more like a part of the town as oppossed to just a visitor.  So, on to my more interesting obligation as the honorable Priest Rosenbergstein (I chose the name...nobody else understood the irony, but I thought it was funny...I guess that joke was just for me).  Anyhoo, Nito, Marielos (she is the women in town I am tutoring in English and teaching her the diva songs...she is also the mom of 2 of my awesome awesome students...she's pretty incredible), another student's mom, and two of my 6th graders put on a little skit for the town.  Since I could barely understand what the hell was going on in the storyline since it was all in Spanish, it was pretty interesting having to be a part of the storyline, especially since we had no script and I had to improv in Spanish.  As an aside, I am feeling like my Spanish is hitting a plateau these days so I really hope with further practice and immersion, I will keep improving, but lately it has been a little frustrating.  Anyway, back to the play...though the 3 scenes preceding my debut still remain somewhat of a mystery to me,  all I know is that I was playing a Priest who was marrying 2 people together.  This involved me wearing a scarf and a tablecloth Nito turned into a tunic and singing a beautifully loud and obnoxious falsetto version of Ave Maria.  I didn't really know what to say since I wasn't very familiar with the functions and rituals of a Costa Rican wedding (though now I am!...story to come...no, I'm not married), so after joining them together, I pretended to throw holy water on them, then crossed myself and said "En el nombre del Padre, de La Madre, y Tio Jorge, ahorrita ustedes son juntos en amor y vida por siempre", which translates into "In the name of the father, the mother, and Uncle George, you are now joined together in love and life forever"...despite my fear that this would send me back to America, if not directly to hell, my friends loved when I did this jokingly during our rehearsal and really wanted me to do it during the performance, so I decided what better way to demonstrate my cultural senstivity and get into the good graces of the community by mocking their religion and their language simultaneously!  Luckily, everyone had a good sense of humor and seemed to really love the little skit (which Nito and Marielos did an awesome job creating) and people in town called me "Padre" and came up to me and asked me to sing ave maria and forgive them of their sins for 2 weeks afterwards. hahahah.  Que es mi vida???

Speaking of Marielos and diva songs, our intercambio has been going great!  We have been meeting every Wednesday afternoon for English lessons and it brings me simultaneous pride and equal shame that I was able to translate Celine Dion songs for her.  This past Wednesday I walked to her house instead of the usual of her coming here (mostly because I wanted to hang out with her kids who are some of my favorite students) and after an hour or so of English lessons, she brought out the guitar to start teaching me.  It will be a very interesting process of trying to learn a new instrument in a new language, but I am really excited that we seem to have started a Wednesday tradition.  As bad as I am at planning and as much as I do most things last minute or spontaneously, I am also a creature of habit and feel much more at home in a place when I get into a routine.  My daily school schedule of 7am-12pm has been great in terms of free time and in terms of making me feel like I am making most of the days here, but having so much free time has its ups and downs and it feels good to at least have Wednesdays to look forward to as being a full day.  I'm also going to start tutoring one of the high school kids in town as there is no English teacher for his grade in the school.  He lives about a 30 minute walk from me and it will become a nice little excursion I have to make every Thursday and it will be good practice because I am planning on starting adult classes after school for the community soon.  With all this said however, I am trying really dilligently to not do what I will refer to as "pulling a college", whereas I do what I did in college; fill my schedule up with as much as I possibly can in order to feel more productive and carpe-diemesque, and then in return feel resentful that I have no freetime for myself and activities I should be doing just for sheer enjoyment begin to feel like a chore.  Thus far, my life consisting of teaching until noon, reading, and then walking around for most of the day until I find people to hang out with/talk to/feed me has worked in favor of maintaining a purposeful, but ultimately simple life.  Just as my appetite and physiological need for caffeine has increased an absurd amount, my perspective of a "good time" has decreased in its complexity...i.e. the other day I spent an hour throwing rocks at a tree with a 6 year old and then found a stick and cut it into a spear with a machete and practiced throwing it at a banana tree for another hour and considered this a red letter day!  I know it is often hard to pick up on sarcasm when reading something because there isn't any inflection, so to clear it up if there is any confusion, I was in no way being sarcastic.  If I can walk around town and find people to take me in for a cafecito, some 7 year olds to play soccer with, and walk down interesting new path to walk down, I consider the day a success and go to bed feeling like I milked something new out of my time here.  In fact, the charm of living in a small town and never making set plans to see people has kind of made me forget that in the United States that isn't often how things go.  I think it will be a shock to my system when I go home and instead of people inviting me in when I show up at a strangers door unexpectadly, they will call the cops.  Preemptive apologies to the many people at home who get annoyed with my habit of not making plans far ahead of time...being here has made me even worse.  However, excluding my time in school where it seems nothing can be planned for or counted on, some of the most exciting and unusual experiences I have had here I found simply by walking around and stumbling into a new circumstance, i.e. playing a soccer game at sunset against some of my kids and their parents, watching and helping in the process of cooking a pig (from the pig-pen to my stomach...yikes...I think the sound the poor little guy made when they killed it will haunt my dreams for eternity), and sitting around a giant stove outdoor stove to cook sugarcane while sipping contrabanda (which is essentially home-brewed moonshine that some of the locals make) with some farmers.  In terms of drinking, I essentially haven't at all, in La Esperanza as I've been really worried about making a bad impression and wouldn't want to look irresponsible to the community, especially my kids parents, but as it was one of my student's parents who offered me the poison, I decided it was a moment not worth passing up.  I realize that most of this entry is not really updates on events and experiences as much as just me rambling about my state of mind, but I think this slowed down life has given me more time to simply think and read and explore than I have had in a long long time.

Mind you, there is nothing slowed down or simple about teaching in the school.  Everyday is 5 hours of me being on my toes and constantly changing my ideas that don't work, lessons that struggle, and miscommunications that occur.  Honestly, I think I could put this all down to one things, which is completey and utterly my fault; my lesson plans are usually no longer than about 3 words.  Being here has confirmed what I already knew about my ability to plan ahead and go into a situation involving being in front of people with a well organized script...I don't.  Sometimes this works out great and awesome lessons seem to just fall out of my butt, but at other times, my mentality of "so I wonder how I am going to teach today! Guess I will find out!" gives me some consternation and too often I realize a better method to teach something I just taught immediately after I finish...it's sort of like when somebody gets at you with a really really good insult and you realize exactly what you SHOULD have said like 10 seconds after you throw out a really lame comback.  I guess I just miss improv and am componsating by improvising my job as I go!  Such is the life of a teacher who is still learning the ropes I suppose.  A friend of mine (shout out!) who did WorldTeach in the Marshall Islands a few years ago summed up teaching perfectly as feeling "all powerful while simultaneously completely inadequate".  Some days I leave school feeling a natural high for hours because of much I love the kids and how much they seemed to learn, and more importantly, seemed to like learning that day.  Other days I walk home with my tail between my legs after a day of awkward lessons and struggling to keep the kids engaged feeling like I failed them as a teacher.  I am giving the 3rd-6th graders their first test next week, which I almost feel guilty about doing to them hahaha...I think after my many years conditioned as a camp counselor where my primary objective was the kid's happiness and entertainment, the transition into a primary objective of focus and learning has been a clunky one for me, but I think I am starting to find a good balance of dancing around the room like a clown and actually imparting useful knowledge.  I think ultimately, what I care more about in this year is not how much they learn from me, but how much they learn to like learning from me.  Given that 3 out of my total 7 6th graders aren't planning on going onto high school after this year, if I can't inspire them to change their minds, I at least hope I will plant some sort of interest in the younger kids so that number will be smaller by the time their class reaches 6th grade.  Upon reading this, I realize I sound just like a cliche after school special or an aspiring combination of Coach Carter and Mr. Feeny, but in reality, I am still just trying to really find my feet as an educator.

Wow, okay, MUCH more to share, but for now I think I will post this while it is still a semi-reasonable length to read, but I PROMISE to update more in a few days with stories of my brothers wedding which was two weeks ago and my visit south to Bella Vista, Costa Rica to visit my friend at her site, and the new antics of Nito and my family drama.  Stay tuned and thanks so much for reading!!