tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51721092609027133322024-02-07T23:18:23.159-06:00Karla's BlogGo confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.~~Henry David ThoreauKarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-21294179646904919292010-04-19T10:25:00.001-05:002010-04-19T10:28:36.927-05:00OptimismYesterday I read an article that said according to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Honduras was one of five Latin American countries lacking human rights last year. Honduras was the only one of the five countries (also including Colombia, Venezuela, Cuba, and Haiti) that wasn’t on the list the previous year. The cause of the increase in problems was blamed on the coup of last June.<br /><br />While some people here who support the coup would deny an increase in human rights violations, most international organizations disagree. The most recent news has centered on how Honduras has become one of the most dangerous countries in the world for journalists. So far this year, 6 have been murdered. I’m also reading <em>Working Hard, Drinking Hard</em>, an anthropologist’s take on why Honduras has the problems it has. It’s both fascinating and depressing to learn more about what I see all around me, and it makes clear that human rights violations have been around a lot longer than since June, 2009.<br /><br />While my life right now is personally sheltered from most of the problems here, of course it isn’t totally. It would be hard for me to find a Honduran I know who hasn’t been affected by violence. I know people out of work and struggling financially, I see children and old women on street corners asking for money and violent deaths on the front page of the newspapers nearly every day. Closer to home, a student at our high school has been kidnapped for ransom money and hasn’t yet been returned.<br /><br />It is hard to be hopeful when surrounded by such desperate poverty, violence and corruption. Also, my sense is that most people here have accepted the way things are and don’t really see a way out of Honduras’s problems, or at least don’t see a way to the radical changes that are necessary if Honduras is really going to be a peaceful country.<br /><br />I recently read an interview with environmentalist Alex Steffen, and there’s a bit I really liked about optimism. Though he’s talking about the environmental movement, I think it has a broader implication, and it is the type of thinking that keeps me hopeful.<br /><br /><em>Optimism is a political act. Those who benefit from the status quo are perfectly happy for us think nothing is going to get any better. In fact, these days, cynicism is obedience. What’s really radical is being willing to look right at the problems we face and still insist that we can solve them. A stubborn commitment to solving problems and a faith in our ability to do so doesn’t need to be naïve.</em>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-18721215927228357802010-01-26T19:51:00.007-06:002010-03-09T19:08:46.053-06:00Is anybody still there?Is it too late? Is anybody still reading this? I wouldn't be surprised if not; I've been awfully slack in the postings lately. Mostly that's because my life is pretty calm which doesn't really make good blog writing fodder. The thing is though, I'm totally happy and this year, especially after last year, feels like a much-needed (and much-deserved, if I do say so myself) rest.<br /><br />I started to write this blog entry a few weeks ago when we didn’t have classes. Due to severe winds that came through our part of the city two Wednesday nights ago, the electricity at school was out and they needed to clean up trees and repair damages. Though the people here said the winds were similar to hurricane winds, there was no hurricane or even rain. It seems a meeting of cold and hot fronts caused the winds, and with it extensive, but not terribly severe, damage. Here’s a picture of the road leading to the pre-school at my school.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghanKd_KN0aaNk86rkyFqqRVzNtbedaZTavrU2c__i2QDsi3H5GdthncasKPHc5uzclv5XVaiAxdgmm-x_gsWSrZXNw-dsQhndw8EPVx9N_dxiyFG6crwBqubMQL0aqnGt8LJI7xPo_PGg/s1600-h/school+wind+storm.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446804059561674658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghanKd_KN0aaNk86rkyFqqRVzNtbedaZTavrU2c__i2QDsi3H5GdthncasKPHc5uzclv5XVaiAxdgmm-x_gsWSrZXNw-dsQhndw8EPVx9N_dxiyFG6crwBqubMQL0aqnGt8LJI7xPo_PGg/s320/school+wind+storm.jpg" /></a><br /><br />This week is turning out to be a light work week also. Last night our principals told us that we’d have the next 4 days without students due to an H1N1 case in the elementary school, though we still have to be at school each day from 8-12. Another class has several students already out from other types of flu, there are some other cases of H1N1 in the city, one other bilingual school has closed and the others are supposed to close later this week: they’re trying to prevent the spread of the flu before it gets worse. While I know H1N1 is a concern everywhere, I also think prevention is more important here where good health care isn’t as easy to come by.<br /><br />I definitely enjoy the time off of work. We’ve had an extremely busy few months at school, so we all needed and appreciated the breaks. Despite it all, I can’t complain. Because it’s my first year at this school, it’s a lot of work planning, but I love it. The students and staff are great, and I have all the resources that I could ask for.<br /><br />It does feel strange to me though. These students are basically the children of the richest families in the country. It’s not uncommon for a driver to bring forgotten homework to school or for families to take weekend trips to Miami. In so many ways, their lives are almost the exact opposites of the students I’m used to and love teaching, the students where I volunteered last year and at San Miguel in Minneapolis. I miss them, especially the San Miguel students. I miss the feeling of knowing that the people I was teaching were the people who needed good teaching the most. I miss the feeling of knowing that I was truly working to create justice. I’m not so sure of that anymore.<br /><br />However, the good thing about teaching is that it is always <em>good</em>, no matter who the students are, because children are children and they need good teachers. I’m trying to figure out the core of teaching the rich instead of the poor, and what that means. Literally, they are the future leaders of this country. Their families are the ones that rule here. If I can teach them something about justice and fairness, then maybe I can have an impact in a different way. It is a switch from who I’ve always thought myself to be, and I don’t really have an answer when people ask me why I’m here, but I do know that it is the right place for me to be right now, and I trust in that.<br /><br />It helps, just a little, that today is a beautifully sunny day when my friends at home are dealing with snow and I’m headed to the pool with some friends. I don’t take many photos, but here’s one of me and Carlos from a few weeks ago when we went to the beach for the day with his friends.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGIpnI3_hXQS6t3bi4mOUU3ko8tBQKtKz0kGzaa45vHoXG8B_J-SYI-r3d2Ne433gaULT7BA36X3tNkVPC77AFNj9jnZtGiwZDeZ0309xsv5ZncrSU60ElmBY3fQGssMbQphgc-1mcu2S/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446804054850375314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGIpnI3_hXQS6t3bi4mOUU3ko8tBQKtKz0kGzaa45vHoXG8B_J-SYI-r3d2Ne433gaULT7BA36X3tNkVPC77AFNj9jnZtGiwZDeZ0309xsv5ZncrSU60ElmBY3fQGssMbQphgc-1mcu2S/s320/019.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_gihhE0bRHcZ3a8p7XkHrx55SA7LxRTTaBU4IWkajSQS92yFOPeZ4R0NemGkkIt2UXPFbFSqfugjWXSnqkc7Dh5J4OprFbTc1ChWecTj0Ac1sJfsW6EIka2oQZRjdVghn-3-VyVVznU0q/s1600-h/019.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pM_9lPCL7Cj_XgMUMnYJslCuwniB5w1WE0xzOGR_T2ruhNSEfl7cOefKZzoi7-w2Az6Elo8ZhUewoD1TPE9Zp4OF-rKW2TRdKBhngcN_JGOxWAvK4-l8uNRXBkOKDJOjrC8nKzvV3xWG/s1600-h/school+wind+storm.jpg"></a>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-31972955685198880932009-09-22T20:06:00.003-05:002009-09-22T20:10:20.733-05:00Rain day, earthquake day, and now thisThe good news is that I have time today to write a new blog entry. The bad news is why I have that time. I've had days off here for rain and for earthquakes, but both actually seemed better than this.<br /><br />Mel Zelaya, Honduras’s deposed president, sneaked back into the country yesterday and is in the Brazilian embassy in the capital. Once his presence was confirmed, the interim government immediately imposed a curfew. It started at 4:00 yesterday afternoon and has so far been extended twice, currently ending at 6:00 am tomorrow. This means nobody is supposed to be out of their homes except for emergencies. There are few cars and some people are out in their neighborhoods to get food or other small things, but for the most part, the streets are deserted. In the capital this morning, protests outside of the embassy were dispersed by the police with tear gas, and there have also been some reports of limited gatherings in the center in San Pedro Sula.<br /><br />I still believe the situation is more complicated than most people make it out to be. From what I’ve read, the former president was most likely corrupt and his close alliance with Hugo Chavez of Venezuela scared people. Though the interim government claims his removal was legal and necessary, the international community is in agreement that it wasn’t. They’ve made little effort to compromise, and yet Zelaya’s move to return seems reckless and harmful. Part of the difficulty in knowing the full truth is that the local press is completely different than the international press.<br /><br />My reaction today is mostly sad. It saddens me that politics here are so corrupt that most people have given up on honest politicians. It saddens me that I live in a country where I’m not allowed to leave my house for 36 hours. School has been canceled again for tomorrow, and it’s hard to see how this will end, though I know it must at some point. I am hopeful for the best; I always believe in hope, but some days that’s harder than others.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-29669774838426560662009-09-11T19:23:00.003-05:002009-09-11T19:27:11.662-05:00A Room with a ViewI had recess duty the other day, and one of my students asked me how I was liking the school. I told her I loved it; the students and teachers are great, I have a perfect teaching schedule, it’s well-organized and well-run. She just nodded and looked at me seriously. “It’s a really good school.”<br /><br />She’s right. Right now, I really couldn’t ask for a better place to be. I just finished my fourth week of teaching and each day I feel a little bit more settled. It helps a lot that I lived in the city last year. I was worried that after the great time I had at home this summer, I wouldn’t want to return. But what I’ve realized is that for now, I have two homes. Though it's always hard to leave one, the arrival feels like a homecoming too.<br /><br />Another perk is the view from my new classroom. There are some days when I catch a glimpse of the mountains, and I just stop and smile. That happens a lot these days, whether it’s the view or one of the many other abundant blessings in my life. I am so grateful.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1P82FTqX1Ozv0LWbGzmc0lPLIrER0ZVWnSbS0bIgRfvUfOXe2C2OVsGjepCucH1O5Bv4g2A9uv5igxrT-hrXonjj4-KpVHA6x_3cziQzN2-FOY0Cg1SrRdbHTNyLlCCUCVfJUTGuBkuJ/s1600-h/Summer+2009+020.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380370651536464226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1P82FTqX1Ozv0LWbGzmc0lPLIrER0ZVWnSbS0bIgRfvUfOXe2C2OVsGjepCucH1O5Bv4g2A9uv5igxrT-hrXonjj4-KpVHA6x_3cziQzN2-FOY0Cg1SrRdbHTNyLlCCUCVfJUTGuBkuJ/s320/Summer+2009+020.jpg" /></a><br /><div> </div><br /><div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-64134947428459410812009-08-16T17:47:00.001-05:002009-08-16T17:50:24.851-05:00I'm as happy as a wormI’m back in Honduras and estoy feliz como un lombriz. (I’m happy like a worm. I guess it’s cuter in Spanish.) I moved back on July 31 and have been busy getting settled in my new apartment here and getting ready for classes to start on the 17th. <br /><br />A Cliff Notes version of the last few months: I finished up at the other school; my sister Rebecca came to visit for my last two weeks here, and we traveled and had an amazing time here and in Guatemala; we flew home together on June 28, the day of the coup; I spent 5 weeks at home getting caught up with people and shopping and packing; I moved back to the same city, San Pedro Sula, but into a new apartment and job. I’m working at an extremely well-run, well-organized international school, and the position is not volunteer. Volunteering abroad was a life-long dream and I’m glad I did it, but as they say here when you finish something – cheque. I can check that off of my list and move on to something else. <br /><br />A lot of people have been asking about the coup or the “political situation” as many call it here. It’s hard to know what to say because I hear and read so many contradictory things. Most people I talk to were frustrated with the former president and are glad he’s gone. Others support him, are calling it a military coup, and want him back. You can find political rallies (mostly peaceful) for both sides, and also news reports supporting both sides, accusing the other of manipulations and violence. From what I read, protests, violence, and censorship are escalating. Even so, most people just seem to be waiting for things to blow over and go back to normal, though that wasn’t all that great either.<br /><br />I can tell you it feels calm where I live and work, and if I didn’t read the papers or talk with people, I would have no idea anything was happening. Also, the school is taking every precaution possible to help us and keep us safe. So I’ll say, though I know my mom won’t listen, there really is no need to worry about me, but Honduras itself needs all the help and prayers it can get.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-8405489625927546192009-05-20T18:34:00.005-05:002009-05-21T22:15:49.760-05:00The Lady of the StickersNot too long ago, one of the pre-school kids asked one of my 7th grade students if she would help her get something from "The Lady of the Stickers" [me]. The junior high has their classes in the same part of the building as the pre-school. One of the little girls from the home is in the pre-school class, and she used to wander into my room occasionally after school. I have a bunch of stickers in my desk and would always give her one when she came.<br /><br />This got a little bigger than I had intended. Pretty soon I had mobs of four-year-olds knocking on my door to ask for stickers while I was giving classes. I've taught them to wait until they see my door open, though that doesn't stop them from constantly peeking into my room on tip-toe to see what's going on.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi364S_Nh30mD3ck5e26IFFAR5DH3RokRngWcjTrfbkjQmi9A8hMdYW8Zr6Sn8K-RnogBNTJwgQ1wEZGzopYRHGYzyeu25ALpgRSFhOGMwFuvG_5k0oXTOicbuAeE2mxiKiiqvPXt6K4AXB/s1600-h/Stickers+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338480573651128306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi364S_Nh30mD3ck5e26IFFAR5DH3RokRngWcjTrfbkjQmi9A8hMdYW8Zr6Sn8K-RnogBNTJwgQ1wEZGzopYRHGYzyeu25ALpgRSFhOGMwFuvG_5k0oXTOicbuAeE2mxiKiiqvPXt6K4AXB/s320/Stickers+001.jpg" border="0" /></a>I'm not sure why, but they always put them on their foreheads. Some days they forget, but most days during recess I get a small group of them, larger if they decide to announce it. The other day I just closing the door when from the top of the play slide, Angela glimpsed my open classroom door, pointed her arm like she was charging into battle, and yelled, "STICKERS!!!" That day took awhile.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ICgwGTNXzco7sBL8vCli-4YrgrKpkA5ehsBD5tbbxLGfrkhzYElwb4s6OjCRnFLYd6TXzDPUEp3BSxNgscpmEasPjL3CMow2cDUKN4o1I1XMjN-Doy2zCHX1S2OIAl6uCxK_bYbxj8vl/s1600-h/Stickers+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338480572200819922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ICgwGTNXzco7sBL8vCli-4YrgrKpkA5ehsBD5tbbxLGfrkhzYElwb4s6OjCRnFLYd6TXzDPUEp3BSxNgscpmEasPjL3CMow2cDUKN4o1I1XMjN-Doy2zCHX1S2OIAl6uCxK_bYbxj8vl/s320/Stickers+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5BQbAv5MMkmM6VDuQ-zdu6gve4CLWDP28V9ygvWlTRSewXpEU7O8eR8eeFtM0Stvmk8pUoeC5jJ2FxVSJFnd8LUJr_AZhqECS3YiiOt27oqPKNQhmWVdo4B3Yabei4MgC0lIXFa8H_r3_/s1600-h/Stickers+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338480565374136786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5BQbAv5MMkmM6VDuQ-zdu6gve4CLWDP28V9ygvWlTRSewXpEU7O8eR8eeFtM0Stvmk8pUoeC5jJ2FxVSJFnd8LUJr_AZhqECS3YiiOt27oqPKNQhmWVdo4B3Yabei4MgC0lIXFa8H_r3_/s320/Stickers+004.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-42523572195818971702009-04-26T21:34:00.003-05:002009-04-26T21:55:50.040-05:00Spring Break<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5i4AggcoFLKvogKJ-9FWIWro6NjrOsSxYYVZAiXE0QEOUNGzGTPwOG9qM_X66F1npSpzmzGzUSh7E5pOI9jjoBI4SjN5AZydA8oeGw-CX2FYszjLSUGpMkHm6pqvKzWxF34orpYR0OVB/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+022.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196426708120386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5i4AggcoFLKvogKJ-9FWIWro6NjrOsSxYYVZAiXE0QEOUNGzGTPwOG9qM_X66F1npSpzmzGzUSh7E5pOI9jjoBI4SjN5AZydA8oeGw-CX2FYszjLSUGpMkHm6pqvKzWxF34orpYR0OVB/s320/Spring+Break+2009+022.jpg" border="0" /></a> Now that spring break has been over for two weeks, it's time to pull out the pictures so I can remind myself of how good I have it here. I really do. I split my time between Copan Ruinas and Omoa, both small towns not too far from here.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0WHWZjHHT2pAJpT3JBu-3zgn4obBwu76rEtH-4yd-AEPqWBWNV5fPqr2yYFM0VrookGPi1OFc1_DDgKdjr7icdE3Eg6YWIs0m60spMYLhJjosObN330poAcSlAg-nPScDAH47QOGtKbh/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196423389144546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0WHWZjHHT2pAJpT3JBu-3zgn4obBwu76rEtH-4yd-AEPqWBWNV5fPqr2yYFM0VrookGPi1OFc1_DDgKdjr7icdE3Eg6YWIs0m60spMYLhJjosObN330poAcSlAg-nPScDAH47QOGtKbh/s320/Spring+Break+2009+016.jpg" border="0" /></a> Our first stop in Copan Ruinas was Macaw Mountain, a nature preserve/sanctuary for local birds<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeqs01zgLbxxJdW1EK0G1vzc8F_nSpWkZAd7rpbfEthU76t-3Am757SasgJ44kjYJnE7QgDbCJpZ4jfsXGCWu1PAlJjQi2b3AIb4a-X_8lAhGYddNmiucOHUT1x1L2DhPr0T7QkUKMMOr/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196417786136722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeqs01zgLbxxJdW1EK0G1vzc8F_nSpWkZAd7rpbfEthU76t-3Am757SasgJ44kjYJnE7QgDbCJpZ4jfsXGCWu1PAlJjQi2b3AIb4a-X_8lAhGYddNmiucOHUT1x1L2DhPr0T7QkUKMMOr/s320/Spring+Break+2009+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSZ70wQezCKVyktpF13i_eKVS8j_UuPjYnb7y7Be7H5RQDKn38gjFRnx-PYzOHJEQC_ZDOPwXFIZ5FjZgA3e4ExVYi1DnGgc6apkrnGoa9-RpS-fxUNte96cET1nufCZzbGRccgf0ISCt/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+021.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196414718549698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSZ70wQezCKVyktpF13i_eKVS8j_UuPjYnb7y7Be7H5RQDKn38gjFRnx-PYzOHJEQC_ZDOPwXFIZ5FjZgA3e4ExVYi1DnGgc6apkrnGoa9-RpS-fxUNte96cET1nufCZzbGRccgf0ISCt/s320/Spring+Break+2009+021.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />"Kiss me" (I didn't name him) decided to eat my shirt when I was taking our picture.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeAyFF2v6MdNLOBYll3nLSs7wXDjWJAfn25fsRhjkh1zJue1PrtqzpLA6QZKH5lkR3ZX-Rtppxv0GSxW7po86fVaJY-XghvK2GndirKhpUNAQqyhw7xpUgcgXTTbJ44EhnoEQcLpNQzKb/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+045.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329196410769730146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfeAyFF2v6MdNLOBYll3nLSs7wXDjWJAfn25fsRhjkh1zJue1PrtqzpLA6QZKH5lkR3ZX-Rtppxv0GSxW7po86fVaJY-XghvK2GndirKhpUNAQqyhw7xpUgcgXTTbJ44EhnoEQcLpNQzKb/s320/Spring+Break+2009+045.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Then we went Copan Ruinas, the best preserved Mayan ruins in the area and for which the town is world famous. Our guide Tony spoke English (one of many languages he spoke) and was able to explain the history of the Maya there. He also loved adding in jokes, but would have to say "Here's a joke" first so we knew to laugh afterwards. Reminds me of my nephew Carson who used to have to say "That's funny" after his jokes, but then he was only three years old.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6L_ivZSekX0lCrbldq2AwiqpU_27xepx5RD0qyk9WWirZMdLX_p2tWYgmJ1Pe8h6H9eX_cg14GrtxedUhb2mnuXoTBwHTlzq5y7dEacbsVWzuQrPnZvoc5JVSZuq9ajK9D4NXlfkjZNQA/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+024.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329195129753864258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6L_ivZSekX0lCrbldq2AwiqpU_27xepx5RD0qyk9WWirZMdLX_p2tWYgmJ1Pe8h6H9eX_cg14GrtxedUhb2mnuXoTBwHTlzq5y7dEacbsVWzuQrPnZvoc5JVSZuq9ajK9D4NXlfkjZNQA/s320/Spring+Break+2009+024.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXc65DKlUML0Y-CEzVjVaDDtpFgfytwaxin4s5M48cgNO23PL7CTxZocZLtKHR7yvjMCtu1yPOFsWvqTpb_ElGKqKappaNMH1KDUxXuZvPue4hhMK6FtJYB3g0Y3plnovvWg2AVCoXxD1x/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+047.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329195127466316866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXc65DKlUML0Y-CEzVjVaDDtpFgfytwaxin4s5M48cgNO23PL7CTxZocZLtKHR7yvjMCtu1yPOFsWvqTpb_ElGKqKappaNMH1KDUxXuZvPue4hhMK6FtJYB3g0Y3plnovvWg2AVCoXxD1x/s320/Spring+Break+2009+047.jpg" border="0" /></a>Official Name: Head of old man.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuFiWb_B81l9tZdow-HOBri4hJoOIhW1CMhyphenhyphenkLeGsJk5UlB2DhUyhMDB9ETrtQoFaLKdIv4-j4ihrjrzql5l_8fcUuFHcPPui1EqhfmDV48-Cy_DQQU3_65SYdArj7BUFUwDZRr32HLw1/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+089.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329195122558414450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuFiWb_B81l9tZdow-HOBri4hJoOIhW1CMhyphenhyphenkLeGsJk5UlB2DhUyhMDB9ETrtQoFaLKdIv4-j4ihrjrzql5l_8fcUuFHcPPui1EqhfmDV48-Cy_DQQU3_65SYdArj7BUFUwDZRr32HLw1/s320/Spring+Break+2009+089.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisoHQhIcOy8hKP1VttsszKkHy_6fU18AzJSmJ_MjIvmkXLIamc1DcWM8QwDic2vq3OySdnzbCbx6mbjGNNhLH2PB_XW2KuuybEkxlWGzifbzj0b2j3a8Y7gkBwAj1fmSEwx9QMiFueJhtA/s1600-h/Spring+Break+2009+086.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329195116968805554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisoHQhIcOy8hKP1VttsszKkHy_6fU18AzJSmJ_MjIvmkXLIamc1DcWM8QwDic2vq3OySdnzbCbx6mbjGNNhLH2PB_XW2KuuybEkxlWGzifbzj0b2j3a8Y7gkBwAj1fmSEwx9QMiFueJhtA/s320/Spring+Break+2009+086.jpg" border="0" /></a> Ashley and I were only in Copan Ruinas for two days but then went to the beach for four. Not much to do there but sit around, swim a little, eat seafood, drink beer, and enjoy the scenery and the company, but it would take more than four days for me to get tired of that. Here's Ashley with some of the people we were with.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOndx4jBFqihsZ_ZDAZDHdH53gIhK5dQbMYNaJw1ZJagYrmvQ1WbARuWfiDz_mCsHDWdysgNJedpat_TrfGXKhuEHl0QVGDYeD4R1lmnd2N27UhY-i4YZwFJELu3Oa02ehYcLUycFodWl/s1600-h/Omoa+028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329195086608290050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOndx4jBFqihsZ_ZDAZDHdH53gIhK5dQbMYNaJw1ZJagYrmvQ1WbARuWfiDz_mCsHDWdysgNJedpat_TrfGXKhuEHl0QVGDYeD4R1lmnd2N27UhY-i4YZwFJELu3Oa02ehYcLUycFodWl/s320/Omoa+028.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-4115197537714499232009-03-17T13:57:00.005-05:002009-03-17T14:04:24.739-05:00VolleyballThis morning we had a teacher vs. student volleyball game, which the teachers lost despite my incredibly awesome volleyball skills. (In case you were wondering, that's called "sarcasm.") Some of the girls really enjoyed it, and I thought it would be fun to come play with them after school when we have time. The only problem is that the net and ball belong to the school, and my budget doesn't really allow room for those kinds of purchases.<br /><br />So.... if there's anybody who feels like donating money to go towards a net and a few volleyballs as a donation to the girls' home, send me an email and we can work out the details. Next time we play at school, those students won't know what hit 'em.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-1992938827624010752009-03-09T07:07:00.003-05:002009-03-09T17:46:19.717-05:00Lamb of GodYesterday I spoke with my mom on the phone and she opened the mail I had at home. Almost all of it was junk mail, but she said there was something from <em>Commonweal</em>, a small religious/political magazine that I know of.<br /><br />When I got back from my Ghana trip in 2006, I had written a poem for the friends who went on the trip with me. I submitted it to <em>Commonweal</em>, and then forgot about it. Well, they decided to publish it in their Feb. 13 issue. The timing is interesting. It was on that trip that I knew for sure that I would volunteer abroad some day, and seeing it again now reminds me why I came.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Lamb of God<br /><br />For Jan, Aly, Ashley, Jennifer, Teddy, Teri, and Paul<br /><br />The building of an African water system is simple.<br />You just haul great big bags of cash from Seattle to Savelugu,<br />then show up on a dusty Wednesday morning to see what you have done.<br /><br />Memories of those two hours are blurry, inchoate:<br />prayers for traveling mercies,<br /> their thank you gift, the lamb, inspecting us,<br /> one who stands out from the colorful blur of the others singing, and<br /> though I do not know the words I understand.<br /><br />You have given us life, they say.<br /><br />There is nothing for us to say, at all.<br />So we ride away, helplessly muted,<br /><br />except for the lamb that is,<br />who bleats occasionally from the back of the bus,<br />plaintively asking us not to forget her.<br /><br /><br />Futilely, as it turns out.<br />Comforts of home drowning me,<br />even, or perhaps especially, in church.<br /><br />And then we pray to the Lamb of God.<br />Each time I am thrown to the ground,<br />blinded with the vision of that other lamb.<br />I gasp for the air of Savelugu,<br />desperately breathing the only prayer I can,<br />over and over,<br />have mercy,<br />have mercy,<br />my God, have mercy.</span></em>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-32242004124758002009-02-21T09:14:00.007-06:002009-03-08T22:16:29.723-05:00Taxi RidesTaxi rides here tend to follow a script, especially if it's just me up front with the driver. If he's feeling chatty, he starts by asking me where I'm from, how long I've been here, and how long I'm staying. Then he lies and says my Spanish is good. Are you married? Kids? What are you doing here? Do you like Honduras?<br /><br />More times than I can count, I'm told, "You know, I lived in the United States for a few years. I really liked your country." We talk of the work they did and the money they were able to earn for their family. And then often this question: Why do people in your country not want us to come?<br /><br />I never quite know how to respond. I say the economy is difficult and people worry about jobs. People worry that immigrants will be a drain on our country's resources. I say that many people, including myself, are not opposed to immigration and even welcome it. I try to explain that for the people in the States it's not personal, but of course to the person sitting next to me it is.<br /><br />I'm now at the point where I hope the driver is feeling chatty. The conversations are necessarily limited by language barriers, but the removal of other barriers more than makes up for it.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-64041724183504154522009-02-17T06:17:00.009-06:002009-02-18T06:28:47.832-06:00That's Lava Behind Me. (Look closely.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWJxT3WfMb6KJs_XEsc_YQk_PAaAWuMWxE59QAvBEhRvGZaqNjyjIlLrdDnYH60o_AyLuRJ6qKbYtXOd47ebonf5zdMsKefBU6AXowsqY4GCkVa8_pqKOo-6TzvgbOBVroWJJ2pMiwq8U/s1600-h/Guatemala+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303904587496419890" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWJxT3WfMb6KJs_XEsc_YQk_PAaAWuMWxE59QAvBEhRvGZaqNjyjIlLrdDnYH60o_AyLuRJ6qKbYtXOd47ebonf5zdMsKefBU6AXowsqY4GCkVa8_pqKOo-6TzvgbOBVroWJJ2pMiwq8U/s320/Guatemala+004.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Despite the definitively more laid back approach to schedule here, we don't have any holidays from January until April. The rest I felt from my Christmas vacation was quickly used up, and I also had a friend visiting Guatemala for a month. My good friend Katie is a pediatrics resident in Philadelphia and is working and studying Spanish in western Guatemala, so we decided to meet up halfway in Antigua for a long weekend.<br /><br />We climbed Mt. Pacaya on Saturday morning. I had actually gone up last June when I visited my friend Paul, and it was great. They bus you pretty close to the top and then you hike for an hour and a half to the lava flow. The lava flow this time wasn't quite as visible, though we were able to get much closer. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. However, it's a pretty amazing thing to get so close to flowing lava: one of the guys with us was able to roast some marshmallows on it. The lava is slow, but when it changed direction and the guide looked at us seriously and told us to head down, I didn't hesitate.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzwna6xzMk1Vuhot074jPhG5dLW7VvRJOkl1SunLNOPBxrmUh37ICCBo-EJ3TrleqbINGI1HFPbzypqfyzEzicA4c2GMcvljlbVcCbpaERoaPSg0exsL76YHdM0nmhQHKpizL-8Ilr6aa/s1600-h/Guatemala+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303904583224367970" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzwna6xzMk1Vuhot074jPhG5dLW7VvRJOkl1SunLNOPBxrmUh37ICCBo-EJ3TrleqbINGI1HFPbzypqfyzEzicA4c2GMcvljlbVcCbpaERoaPSg0exsL76YHdM0nmhQHKpizL-8Ilr6aa/s320/Guatemala+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />We also visited a really interesting monastery that's been restored and turned into a cultural museum with both ancient artifacts and modern art. They found a few crypts below that you could go down and see also. Now, while everybody knows that I'm an excellent photographer, my camera just wasn't taking good pictures those days, so the photos I have are pretty random. Kind of like this blog. And my life.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh8BZQzeS1eD-udDVz56NoH-FTji-bcM1o15ZiDRVuLd_C0QTT83A-O0a7-MyEb239xbYDcYItKyfuBt3uRscAapd7jSJ-Xqcsedt-khYRwjFjMn8VBUiJXJMpd62eVZPRo_Hg8re-SPU/s1600-h/Guatemala+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303904579814730274" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh8BZQzeS1eD-udDVz56NoH-FTji-bcM1o15ZiDRVuLd_C0QTT83A-O0a7-MyEb239xbYDcYItKyfuBt3uRscAapd7jSJ-Xqcsedt-khYRwjFjMn8VBUiJXJMpd62eVZPRo_Hg8re-SPU/s320/Guatemala+009.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdYXyMETNWKu3VTRaL1zwYB2wpocl4jkVyJDfLtFYnnqL3CYLprP5cgGo0dNdqS9QqPNKaQQV_9axwxinKL9_N4RjZatO2MSRUB4bJbHgTxWrVjY6dAhtRWXiNhNQI0KyNDB_bSq2KCgL/s1600-h/Guatemala+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303904576690477282" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdYXyMETNWKu3VTRaL1zwYB2wpocl4jkVyJDfLtFYnnqL3CYLprP5cgGo0dNdqS9QqPNKaQQV_9axwxinKL9_N4RjZatO2MSRUB4bJbHgTxWrVjY6dAhtRWXiNhNQI0KyNDB_bSq2KCgL/s320/Guatemala+010.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Prlryw-N4iklBFJ4imXA43GhLTHvcl8t6YtXcCxPUc0rKtlrZ2QdIpxtGKLMhm9L7i2u4oZGnDT5umT5Q7s-FevMU8CYF4EcS_ebL4guTSzD8xvlrx2Oe8sMIAgm26odLsUm6HhXJBM9/s1600-h/Guatemala+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303904571657234050" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Prlryw-N4iklBFJ4imXA43GhLTHvcl8t6YtXcCxPUc0rKtlrZ2QdIpxtGKLMhm9L7i2u4oZGnDT5umT5Q7s-FevMU8CYF4EcS_ebL4guTSzD8xvlrx2Oe8sMIAgm26odLsUm6HhXJBM9/s320/Guatemala+007.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-1469093546181598832009-02-12T06:13:00.003-06:002009-02-12T06:23:21.254-06:00HalfwayI’ve passed the halfway point in my teaching year here. Though they didn’t have an exam week to close first quarter, the school decided to reinstate it for second quarter. Just when I thought I was getting to used how things work here. We were told to keep a regular schedule but soon I found I was practically the only secondary teacher doing so.<br /><br />I still have so many moments where I just shake my head, not knowing what’s going on. My ninth graders asked if they could watch a movie when they had some free time. When I saw it was an R-rated horror movie, I of course said no, only to later find them watching it on the large Smart Board in the computer lab, a row of preschool kids with their noses pressed to the classroom window watching a woman in a bathtub spewing blood.<br /><br />When I was giving one exam to the 8th grade, I saw a group of 5th graders outside my window fighting with big sticks. I scolded them to put them down and be quiet and I thought they were gone, but as my class settled back into quiet, the whole lot of them ran by, sticks in hand, screaming, “To Fight!” The whole week felt crazy, and I’m glad it’s over and we’re back to the “normal” routine. There is an order to how things work here. It's just that usually, I have no idea what it is. <br /><br />Overall, lots of things combined to make January an incredibly difficult teaching month and there were moments when I didn’t know if I’d be able to finish out my year here. But somehow a corner has turned (lots of corners this year. I’m not exactly sure what shape this life is.) I’m happy to be here. When I’m asked if students can go play soccer for an impromptu game, I readily cancel classes and go sit in the sun and cheer them on. When the ninth graders sullenly refuse to play a review game I have planned, saying they would rather write sentences, I just say ok, and try again the next day. One of my students casually mentioned to another volunteer that I’d changed since the beginning of the year, and it’s about the best compliment I could imagine.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-73908380589806577822008-12-26T13:18:00.006-06:002008-12-29T16:04:38.180-06:00Christmas ProgramSchool Christmas programs tend to be the same the world round: lots of proud parents and lots of cute kids, a few who participate loudly and with pride and the rest not having a clue as to what's going on. I love this picture of the maternal class (2-3 year olds). The tallest boy in the class is also, as you can see, the most enthusiastic singer.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMDG975NswRjXGDOoTHW9feJmVi4Gitw0Psf0bIo8kVuMxa5-qlwEfKUEeC0nfvFJIQuuoADQL6nBrjXokXOpqbbBZ18kz15k0cfAkoAyCu1w5IHTuzzg-ih_nOVB6XJOudkiQwM6tO20/s1600-h/December+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285334083062454546" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMDG975NswRjXGDOoTHW9feJmVi4Gitw0Psf0bIo8kVuMxa5-qlwEfKUEeC0nfvFJIQuuoADQL6nBrjXokXOpqbbBZ18kz15k0cfAkoAyCu1w5IHTuzzg-ih_nOVB6XJOudkiQwM6tO20/s320/December+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div><br />As the ninth grade homeroom teacher, I was reponsible for working with them to prepare something for the program. I asked the other teachers what classes usually do and was told they sing a Christmas song. I get a chorus of painful groans when I ask the students just to take out a notebook or sit in their seats, so I couldn't imagine getting a group of 14-year-olds to sing a Christmas carol in front of the school and parents.</div><div><br />When I asked the principal for advice, she told me she had seen the girls practicing a Christmas dance to "Jingle Bell Rock" so why didn't I have them to that? Both their dance moves and costumes were based on the movie "Mean Girls" and while I did work with them and they kept assuring me it would be great, I still had nightmares of inappropriate dance moves, scantily clad students, and me having to claim responsibility. But like so many other things here, it turned out just fine. The girls practiced a lot (usually during science class, which was fine by me) and we were all proud of how it turned out.</div><div> </div><div>The boys' role was to stand on the side and snap their fingers. Though they didn't do this with too much enthusiasm, they participated and some days you take what you can get. Lots of days in fact.<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezvcGWHgZo6qgtZTCzLyqITnojviHzBMi8ULNMs3IUR8UmzMSgzJBsv7nS1frkt9MEzdc4I9nxdpBqW2rADostPF2R9cjeDibqj383XqDXiDFy9Q1MKdke7zHsDvS1HR_XL94yHiL0JWU/s1600-h/December+049.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285334075344755202" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezvcGWHgZo6qgtZTCzLyqITnojviHzBMi8ULNMs3IUR8UmzMSgzJBsv7nS1frkt9MEzdc4I9nxdpBqW2rADostPF2R9cjeDibqj383XqDXiDFy9Q1MKdke7zHsDvS1HR_XL94yHiL0JWU/s320/December+049.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFkvY3aiCdgwn4YJrAkG6glYvZW8gkfhfU2MWk9lXbIRybrZ4YBF0SAYh5cSS6Vba_2HDGc1AYNmoCdy4RKQ9vixURqTpwB5U4r7dGYXi6NytCIBCPWqPSgVrookWBF3o8u3VpDavHRbx/s1600-h/December+041.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285334068599084482" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFkvY3aiCdgwn4YJrAkG6glYvZW8gkfhfU2MWk9lXbIRybrZ4YBF0SAYh5cSS6Vba_2HDGc1AYNmoCdy4RKQ9vixURqTpwB5U4r7dGYXi6NytCIBCPWqPSgVrookWBF3o8u3VpDavHRbx/s320/December+041.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div><br /> </div><div>Right now I'm home for Christmas for 2 weeks. It's been really wonderful to get caught up with family and friends and just be <em>home.</em></div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-48500451428725671542008-12-13T09:55:00.003-06:002008-12-13T10:13:08.093-06:00Some Things You Just Can't Get Away FromA few days ago, I was at the home helping some girls with their homework when somebody came into the library, said something in Spanish I didn't understand, and all the girls dashed out. The cause of the excitment turned out to be a box of candy they had opened and were handing out: Peeps. One of the girls offerered me some. I wasn't sure how to say, "My teeth hurt just thinking about those things" in Spanish, so just said no thank you.<br /><br />And then last night I went to the Mall with some of the other volunteers to watch a student Christmas performance. The kindergarten class recited a poem and one little boy kept grabbing the microphone from the MC to repeat the poem again or just talk. A few of my junior high students played a few songs on the guitar. You could hardly hear them, but the most entertaining part was watching them pluck out the chords with concentrated expressions. The choir sang some Christmas songs, and it brought tears to my eyes. They were stunning, and it finally felt like Christmas to me here.<br /><br />Aftewards we went to the movies. Nothing looked that good but someone mentioned that <em>The Day the Earth Stood Still</em> wasn't bad. It wasn't until after I bought the ticket that I was told it starred Keanu Reeves. Luckily, he plays an alien, a built an excuse to not have to actually portray any human emotions. And I got to eat my favorite Honduran food, the caramel corn at the movies, so it wasn't a wasted night.<br /><br />Next Sunday, I head home for two weeks. I haven't been as homesick as I thought I would be here (Thank you Skype!) but I cannot wait to just be at home and with the people I love.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-33595162733688156232008-11-24T16:17:00.006-06:002008-11-24T16:42:04.463-06:00A Few Student Pictures<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCGM6-u065Zqw-qgnSHIk2iAdXqmMoa1xM6-8Wb6T_Ua2W8WHlgF_jFCoZUBpqN8iS6-4cLDL4Yf-1QSMkCZ2Kv9d3UQQUO0fDotTv1zcjhBAv5LEzA6nIBV4bV7RNetfghUFEJBqjPRw/s1600-h/School+050.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272356463405322946" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCGM6-u065Zqw-qgnSHIk2iAdXqmMoa1xM6-8Wb6T_Ua2W8WHlgF_jFCoZUBpqN8iS6-4cLDL4Yf-1QSMkCZ2Kv9d3UQQUO0fDotTv1zcjhBAv5LEzA6nIBV4bV7RNetfghUFEJBqjPRw/s320/School+050.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here are my 9th grade girls. Last Wednesday Honduras played Mexico in a World Cup qualifier, which meant that students were out of uniform. When the kindergarten teacher was painting the Honduran flag on her students' faces, my students saw and insisted that we all get it done too.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwXB9bcD-w3fnutR6EvhEKAHYSVyJWGZvggqgPnTTZID81C2k3DyAcDsJ9xAtWrZZ8kL6qt9D4Le8fh2_MbUKp_p9bXTAD8fOUChMAmQI0u0vWg91-HTMjAtw0CftSuUIc272CWnXKf-/s1600-h/School+044.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272356457024393138" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHwXB9bcD-w3fnutR6EvhEKAHYSVyJWGZvggqgPnTTZID81C2k3DyAcDsJ9xAtWrZZ8kL6qt9D4Le8fh2_MbUKp_p9bXTAD8fOUChMAmQI0u0vWg91-HTMjAtw0CftSuUIc272CWnXKf-/s320/School+044.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the 8th grade class. All of it. They can be a bit mischievous but are incredibly sweet and funny and want to learn. No matter how crazy my day gets, I can count on them to be a breath of fresh air.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRd792a_GbSBTvfF2rrDHN-qI2nf9FiYYsE0DNE7nqVziNFAsxj3N_oEcZAyIgMKO7Mkex9pjtCG9OAWfkEHVF7p3R29bymC_rXrGbuERFd1cm83P8cfu2VL2IbhFcOtziQNQcYTvDUPBe/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272356455229323218" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRd792a_GbSBTvfF2rrDHN-qI2nf9FiYYsE0DNE7nqVziNFAsxj3N_oEcZAyIgMKO7Mkex9pjtCG9OAWfkEHVF7p3R29bymC_rXrGbuERFd1cm83P8cfu2VL2IbhFcOtziQNQcYTvDUPBe/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifpF7Xgk1KcPCGdZWY5GPG7DhvGTLowiuUxwPuddZ-DmOdUGWPATWM663l6sJqM8FtoyEFFYj6IGFw39YdDZ-qt4C7WAsn9IaUZpxWsCcxM_lLSpUFfnoOYtCvPDFvLus4NtSNBvci5IRj/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272356451730780674" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifpF7Xgk1KcPCGdZWY5GPG7DhvGTLowiuUxwPuddZ-DmOdUGWPATWM663l6sJqM8FtoyEFFYj6IGFw39YdDZ-qt4C7WAsn9IaUZpxWsCcxM_lLSpUFfnoOYtCvPDFvLus4NtSNBvci5IRj/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+007.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div>And here's a few snapshots of the seventh graders. They made cell models (just like I did in 7th grade with Mrs. Sunquist!) and then went to teach the 4th graders about cells. I'm not sure either group learned anything, but they had fun.</div></div></div></div></div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-28438997037809059632008-11-23T11:04:00.005-06:002008-11-23T11:27:09.113-06:00Día TípicoLast week was Día Típico at our school. This meant school was cancelled for the day so teachers could decorate in the morning. The title Typical Day referred to the traditional dances and food that would be in the evening, but the day with teachers was pretty "typical" as well. At first I was frustrated that we weren't getting much done, and I wonder how long it will take before the phrase "If I were at home...." quits springing so quickly to mind. It turned out to be a really fun day with the other teachers, and I learned another lesson in how to just be with people and not always needing to be busy doing something.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xp3yB9wo8iNwfs06fq-y5x2qIvCOILRLPMhPr0zQqzzYrcQxHvoSfsRnyaZ5fpmzEbsrnU9pCbmOLgDbtQ-CRztehufQnntqqBC0uODj-RofaIJdGcLPDybrUglhbKXXQH-11eso6gS8/s1600-h/School+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271903441042205282" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xp3yB9wo8iNwfs06fq-y5x2qIvCOILRLPMhPr0zQqzzYrcQxHvoSfsRnyaZ5fpmzEbsrnU9pCbmOLgDbtQ-CRztehufQnntqqBC0uODj-RofaIJdGcLPDybrUglhbKXXQH-11eso6gS8/s320/School+005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The teachers prepared decorations and also put out traditional clothing and artwork that students had brought in.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9W20xzH27hF-OfmgExK2yQCJ8hZaOg006fg7nDSbo2zFCOPLdxcF7AeS-X4lcC4e1Df_Rgi6sl-FqolABre0WX8EX0plBK2zbolFUlN-e8PsP7B_Fp6nqlerAn0uqhrEa73q0Iy13pNk/s1600-h/School+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271903431946194002" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9W20xzH27hF-OfmgExK2yQCJ8hZaOg006fg7nDSbo2zFCOPLdxcF7AeS-X4lcC4e1Df_Rgi6sl-FqolABre0WX8EX0plBK2zbolFUlN-e8PsP7B_Fp6nqlerAn0uqhrEa73q0Iy13pNk/s320/School+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here I am with some of my students who had come to prepare for their dance that night.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglP0vAOJKg_XPh3tmYWEWzHBHFvUQ5P2p3Q0QElUI9eThPCo4wM6ls_WN2uVRxB4yXGlw-FvSvJQe7butoY1gMQQw-SimgDBv1OyPteBOAfFRjj6vSTQF-x3Q9SLJVHjJ-9Je8iAEaZKXF/s1600-h/School+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271903425314296866" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglP0vAOJKg_XPh3tmYWEWzHBHFvUQ5P2p3Q0QElUI9eThPCo4wM6ls_WN2uVRxB4yXGlw-FvSvJQe7butoY1gMQQw-SimgDBv1OyPteBOAfFRjj6vSTQF-x3Q9SLJVHjJ-9Je8iAEaZKXF/s320/School+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I don't have many pictures of the actual event because, as usual, I'm terrible at taking pictures, but here's one I like of some of the preschoolers before their dance.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkV1K-y8Ni-quHAE31Dc8mrUcW_z1AKG3Vt7J2KsChNdwkJ57q38Ogw8PuB3GjiTnaoMcN3aQbbkiZk4_9eAUiiWiAO6i5PU8cKmplf-pD-Y36IbcT5_Mp8EAAdDuEBj7UTJqofDiFOoAH/s1600-h/School+042.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271903412387644082" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkV1K-y8Ni-quHAE31Dc8mrUcW_z1AKG3Vt7J2KsChNdwkJ57q38Ogw8PuB3GjiTnaoMcN3aQbbkiZk4_9eAUiiWiAO6i5PU8cKmplf-pD-Y36IbcT5_Mp8EAAdDuEBj7UTJqofDiFOoAH/s320/School+042.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-79626933211240734802008-11-11T21:19:00.002-06:002008-11-11T21:28:18.698-06:00Pueblo Nuevo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjClCHrunzY9PyMe51OuKu5s1jeB7D7OtcioYrQWFA2e9P56kTldpZXNJCxhWQqnr5suamHlMT1vAfon5JsUTfssmUrkgWF497D0gu4R7qgg6QyXTrQaMhIFavFnrCbrkpNZVxEyb9eNhyphenhyphenU/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267606150829273986" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjClCHrunzY9PyMe51OuKu5s1jeB7D7OtcioYrQWFA2e9P56kTldpZXNJCxhWQqnr5suamHlMT1vAfon5JsUTfssmUrkgWF497D0gu4R7qgg6QyXTrQaMhIFavFnrCbrkpNZVxEyb9eNhyphenhyphenU/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our Little Roses is building a conference/retreat center about an hour from San Pedro Sula in the small town of Pueblo Nuevo. A few of the volunteers and I recently went out for the Feria, the town fair. It’s a sweet little town in the hills, and it was great to get out of the city for a bit.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW2HGkRt6T9nU_HYIdgY0wm6noT6IVfcOh-L7BYxX5VvMUAguX8_FoGlV_1iY0OiySJ931f7qdLq-lktKCZN93bx0t_KXNfYe7m89dZj7HK-5_KF7gSZ8XlKEP_3waM1kMFg3Un6A8KG3/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+015.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267606147775540706" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW2HGkRt6T9nU_HYIdgY0wm6noT6IVfcOh-L7BYxX5VvMUAguX8_FoGlV_1iY0OiySJ931f7qdLq-lktKCZN93bx0t_KXNfYe7m89dZj7HK-5_KF7gSZ8XlKEP_3waM1kMFg3Un6A8KG3/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+015.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We didn’t know what was scheduled, but as we were walking around town we heard a marimba band playing in a building. When we peeked our heads in the door, we saw a band on stage with several older men and a large town hall full of small tables decorated with white tablecloths and flowers. We were quickly welcomed in and spent a few hours watching something similar to a local talent show. The marimba band performed and others would volunteer to come up and sing songs also. Some children performed a few dance routines, both modern and folkloric. One man mimed a routine where he was eating bananas and then had diarrhea while the MC made sound effects with the microphone. The elders of the town were publicly recognized and several prayers were said, including the prayer of St. Francis.<br /><br />One woman was near tears as she read the names of all their family and friends who were in the United States working to support them. The room grew quiet as she spoke of how much they missed their home and asked that they all pray for one another.<br /><br />We were served Coke in small plastic glasses (I’ve drank more Coke in my three months here than the rest of my life combined) and served a great lunch. People smiled and greeted us but never questioned why we were there or hesitated even a moment to welcome us.<br /><br />We had to leave in the late afternoon to catch the bus back to the city but caught a glimpse of the parade which included several classic cars and this truck with children dressed as butterflies titled “A Garden of Light and Love.”<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXhGZMENNjkd1TlkoTvyoAnfA5xYMuDFGfIfkXKsetEVuv5mWSRLe0F9N7KB0krB_flD1Uyc9Wr_8u_pmGH4R6VGl8K_J6yAejXTAQw83xBN9EF5IjuYmgpsdYa8jrxIYhEAY85Zbe4jJ/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267606134500746274" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXhGZMENNjkd1TlkoTvyoAnfA5xYMuDFGfIfkXKsetEVuv5mWSRLe0F9N7KB0krB_flD1Uyc9Wr_8u_pmGH4R6VGl8K_J6yAejXTAQw83xBN9EF5IjuYmgpsdYa8jrxIYhEAY85Zbe4jJ/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+016.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7Pw2IRvQqdCc3hpyKUyb7Q6cdpFto_fn8JXIhWPpH_BZwmOsfWb8n-9EN700iMJChlju-fxfKS77TafJLyElKYx0DOaxpWHv5Uci50XxISKSABEsSB_tjzeVK0tepz5TM86Bbc4XjIOr/s1600-h/Pueblo+Nuevo+018.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267606120056592594" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7Pw2IRvQqdCc3hpyKUyb7Q6cdpFto_fn8JXIhWPpH_BZwmOsfWb8n-9EN700iMJChlju-fxfKS77TafJLyElKYx0DOaxpWHv5Uci50XxISKSABEsSB_tjzeVK0tepz5TM86Bbc4XjIOr/s320/Pueblo+Nuevo+018.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-47450638785872375262008-10-31T17:52:00.005-05:002008-10-31T18:00:00.780-05:00Soccer is KingIt’s no big cultural news that soccer is big in this part of the world. More surprising is how much I like watching games. Most likely it’s just because it’s a chance to be with people and feel part of the culture here, but it’s pretty fun, whether it’s watching a big game at the bar, going to a local field, or watching local professional teams at the stadium.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, a woman named Katie was studying Spanish here. She’s quite connected with a local family, and she invited some of us along to watch a game with them. About ten family members were there, including this little guy and even the six week old baby. I couldn’t tell if she was watching much of the game, but she seemed pretty content.<br /><br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoCUC0z11dkIn9fSLm1BNLD6UBAS9CCp0MV1Yc0lKpl9B8EaVXk-1aFa5bRfmabXY-A1C3VkSvDgwb2wjmpB881B_0Ho97SEcMo6sGNTGOSczrpOnd_hjmMQZIH5q9IXCy55z82cx83Iv/s1600-h/soccer+4.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263455395821734562" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZoCUC0z11dkIn9fSLm1BNLD6UBAS9CCp0MV1Yc0lKpl9B8EaVXk-1aFa5bRfmabXY-A1C3VkSvDgwb2wjmpB881B_0Ho97SEcMo6sGNTGOSczrpOnd_hjmMQZIH5q9IXCy55z82cx83Iv/s320/soccer+4.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEs3fhc2Ab9yGxVjtXuwI07QhyGxY16kvrtqwGMtq1cyx98-jW6hHelZ7mEKSx-XTMP9z8nLs-Tla1QqJKK4RofEzCbs85RhwvvkA5_gpRQwyWYBnvL6QxiA3hzV8VveShYxvX7DsPF8p/s1600-h/soccer+5.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263455388822617218" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEs3fhc2Ab9yGxVjtXuwI07QhyGxY16kvrtqwGMtq1cyx98-jW6hHelZ7mEKSx-XTMP9z8nLs-Tla1QqJKK4RofEzCbs85RhwvvkA5_gpRQwyWYBnvL6QxiA3hzV8VveShYxvX7DsPF8p/s320/soccer+5.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I’m seated between Katie and her friend Joe, and right below us is Ashley, one of the volunteers I live with who's become a good friend.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHPae6RbWuMUEEyZ-OCIT-mh76LMjeRlNoUZqOu_BSNtzYpzyQPdCKkNBPhmwZ_JGPx1FhSP_TqUqEhlANmGCiFNmPhyQd41jq0P-vV_11TH2poaqWkoc8gQcDna3S0bFZ_rMQ8qCfObl/s1600-h/soccer+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263455004093128594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHPae6RbWuMUEEyZ-OCIT-mh76LMjeRlNoUZqOu_BSNtzYpzyQPdCKkNBPhmwZ_JGPx1FhSP_TqUqEhlANmGCiFNmPhyQd41jq0P-vV_11TH2poaqWkoc8gQcDna3S0bFZ_rMQ8qCfObl/s320/soccer+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-61958421290528806862008-10-25T09:53:00.002-05:002008-10-25T09:59:14.398-05:00Rain DaysWhen one of the 7th graders told me that school here is sometimes cancelled due to rain, I was pretty excited. Between the number of classes that I have to prepare and teach and the differences in culture, work can be exhausting. I think it will become less so as I understand more of the school system here and continue to adapt, but it’s definitely difficult right now. So when I walked to school Tuesday morning, only to have the principal tell me that the department of education had called off school for the city because of the rain and flooding, I was ecstatic. Remember that feeling you had on the morning of a snow day when you were a kid? It doesn’t feel any less great as an adult.<br /><br />Other than the inconvenience of near constant rain and occasionally flooded streets that usually quickly drain, our area wasn’t affected much. It wasn’t until I watched the local news and read the paper later that day that I realized the severity of it in other parts of the city and country. The rain has lessened now, but in the past several days, 29 people have died, 14 are missing, and 20,000 moved to shelters. 200,000 people have had damage to their homes. Though the damage has been nowhere near comparable, Hurricane Mitch is often mentioned, and it’s clear how much this country is haunted by the devastation Mitch caused almost exactly 10 years ago. For good reason. Mitch killed 6,000 with 8,000 more missing, left 20% of the population homeless and wiped out most of the country’s infrastructure, an event from which they haven’t recovered.<br /><br />Don’t get me wrong. I still loved having a day off of school, but I don’t know if I’ll be quite so eager to hope for another.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-17502177141720918222008-10-08T22:18:00.004-05:002008-10-08T22:35:44.575-05:00Why I Didn't Go into PhotographyA few people have asked for pictures, but I'm terrible at taking them. I usually take my camera with me but never remember to use it or if I do, they don't turn out. However, I do have some that people that people have sent me or random ones I’ve taken.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7HcxwCWKWj2utgfsxi8pYlpGbdAtle_tD2JKwNG2NSXBjo9bWSJpP0IwiQbBwD0oqn26JT3lkrT1Iv5-ifJSc9k0PCnhxsaNaVClJkTeOTC9ZMsMt0A3o7GCDwlH63N6Rr5njc2uefsI/s1600-h/room+and+girls+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989211689235650" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo7HcxwCWKWj2utgfsxi8pYlpGbdAtle_tD2JKwNG2NSXBjo9bWSJpP0IwiQbBwD0oqn26JT3lkrT1Iv5-ifJSc9k0PCnhxsaNaVClJkTeOTC9ZMsMt0A3o7GCDwlH63N6Rr5njc2uefsI/s320/room+and+girls+002.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div>Here's Katherine riding her bike around the home.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBWwiGpcQbKBp4-auEfuKtXLYVPvU-Efc6BstiqKhWbNdqgqRaaD1j0JiJXITmTRlMMZAfwbnzsVbm7-xBkXlZEL3dBYDSSM4xY3-jtEElhIdNysSpnE1MWKe1G6GJ6YhPAn2Z8AIzSLn/s1600-h/Pulhapanzak+Falls.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989217895067314" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBWwiGpcQbKBp4-auEfuKtXLYVPvU-Efc6BstiqKhWbNdqgqRaaD1j0JiJXITmTRlMMZAfwbnzsVbm7-xBkXlZEL3dBYDSSM4xY3-jtEElhIdNysSpnE1MWKe1G6GJ6YhPAn2Z8AIzSLn/s320/Pulhapanzak+Falls.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div>This is Pulhapanzak Falls. Our school had a staff outing to a restaurant and park by Lake Yajoa and stopped here on our way. We were only there for a bit, but I hope to return as you can do a zip line over the falls, swim in the shallow areas of the river, and get guides to take you to caves behind the falls.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU0tlCy04rxM92vM9Z8W1tMFNGwsn_AJ1vqfvDLfNwtRES6Y6YYt57vpvkKGeBSVfyNm34KNiTo0udIIQmG1Klp11M2wpL7dw8NMm21JoaF9CMoZHz91778K7YU-nTRA2MJD0SccvSAqX/s1600-h/finca.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989219465230050" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU0tlCy04rxM92vM9Z8W1tMFNGwsn_AJ1vqfvDLfNwtRES6Y6YYt57vpvkKGeBSVfyNm34KNiTo0udIIQmG1Klp11M2wpL7dw8NMm21JoaF9CMoZHz91778K7YU-nTRA2MJD0SccvSAqX/s320/finca.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div>A few weekends ago I went to a coffee farm in the mountains. Long story short, five of us volunteers plus three friends who were visiting another volunteer from Holland stayed with the family of a friend of the boyfriend of one of last year's volunteers. It was a random weekend, but really great. We took this truck to the farm after a four hour bus ride and short walk to somebody's home, though I still don't know who. Luckily, it didn't rain much more than the few drops on the camera lens.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgZxytvOb2qFsaxNcIJh8jpwuE56q1lMtKwewcUpQKNTr_cpFJUGR2agpt3R5-KwealAIquVlYITrtmVPHoLBRz_9hUMiEJL7IKJmDvSjPcoF8bkW0kJW_OToTSfjXEv5jkR5xs40oa5Z/s1600-h/finca+2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989218607202994" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgZxytvOb2qFsaxNcIJh8jpwuE56q1lMtKwewcUpQKNTr_cpFJUGR2agpt3R5-KwealAIquVlYITrtmVPHoLBRz_9hUMiEJL7IKJmDvSjPcoF8bkW0kJW_OToTSfjXEv5jkR5xs40oa5Z/s320/finca+2.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div>Here’s all of us and the family who stayed there that weekend. The family was incredibly kind to us and planned things for us to do. We also had lots of fresh fruit from the farm and plenty of really, really good coffee.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglWrKah0QpIoQAe6gXFg8w-SQIP27Vh2GHEi72XKH8khNgK9e33VWgL2Dw3ry6QxRyH1bFThPvTUQmVi76MbdaGhv-jxmhko33W8qEB5v7uZdI9ZvH5v-31VPw3xld4t9g0y_jhRq5N8b5/s1600-h/house+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254989225188556642" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglWrKah0QpIoQAe6gXFg8w-SQIP27Vh2GHEi72XKH8khNgK9e33VWgL2Dw3ry6QxRyH1bFThPvTUQmVi76MbdaGhv-jxmhko33W8qEB5v7uZdI9ZvH5v-31VPw3xld4t9g0y_jhRq5N8b5/s320/house+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />David, my buddy for the weekend. I don’t think I ever figured out exactly whose he was because everybody helped take care of the kids. He helped me not miss my nieces and nephews so much.</div>Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-46592361716490917302008-10-04T12:46:00.002-05:002008-10-04T13:11:02.069-05:00Never Write It in PenThat’s become our joke during staff meetings. Life here is definitely more unpredictable than at home. It’s kind of fun to never know what a day will bring and to learn to be more laid back about things.<br /><br />Last Saturday, we had a four hour staff meeting planning events for the year, changing most of the dates on the calendar we had been given early on. The best change was that it turns out the Science Fair, which they had told me I was in charge of, is only for elementary this year, so I’m not involved at all anymore. I don’t really do cartwheels, especially in staff meetings, but the thought crossed my mind.<br /><br />The first event we planned was a Family Sports Day for this past Friday, so I changed my lesson plans. On Monday afternoon, the office brought by letters to go home with the students. I didn’t get one but skimmed one of theirs and discovered school would be ending at noon on Tuesday because of a meeting that most of the teachers (though not me) had to attend. Changed lessons again. On Wednesday the electricity went out around 11:30, so classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. Moved lessons to the next day. Friday morning, the day of the Family Sports Day, it poured rain all morning, so the day was cancelled and teachers had the day to work in their classrooms. It was a great chance to talk with some teachers, study some science so I can stay two steps ahead of the students next week instead of only one, and get lesson plans for next week done. I have to use pen because they make copies of them for the office, but I think I might buy some stock in White-Out.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-7883933499837454022008-09-27T16:36:00.000-05:002008-09-27T16:38:28.946-05:00Future Lonely Planet writerI recently had 15 minutes to kill in my seventh grade English class, so I asked my students to write me a letter telling me what they thought I should know about Honduras. Here is my favorite.<br /><br />To: the Miss<br /><br />All what you need to know about Honduras<br /><br />In Honduras independence is on 9/15, childrens day Sept. 10, teachers day Sept 17, and our Flag day is on Sept. 2. Here in Honduras our culture is very socialist. Don’t walk on the street with a cell phone. Be always aware. And it’s a very hot place.<br /><br />From: WilliamKarlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-44997555485308928052008-09-13T12:31:00.004-05:002008-09-13T12:48:42.361-05:00A Typical School DayWell, first, that title is a lie. There’s no such thing. This Monday we went out for morning assembly, supposed to last ten minutes, and were told that the school needed to have a parade to celebrate Independence Day (Sept. 15) and so would begin practicing, which they did for the next hour and a half. Trying to get adolescents to march in straight lines on the road around the school building in the sun on a 95 degree day is not the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.<br /><br />Usually, I get to school around 6:30 to work in my room, get the air-conditioning going, and if it is Monday or Thursday (the allowed days to make copies) I stop by to give my things to Claudia in the office. I can usually ask her a question, having prepared it in my head on the walk to the office, but can only sometimes understand her answer. I do a lot of nodding my head and smiling.<br /><br />The 7:00-7:10 daily assembly starts at 7:10 and ends around 7:25. I start to get uptight about being on time, then notice the Honduran teachers not stressing out and decide to relax. I start the day with English 9 where it takes ten minutes for my eight ninth grade students to get their English notebooks from their lockers and sit down. We do a short lesson and they leave at 7:55. There is a bell system but it seems to ring haphazardly and teachers tend to let students out when they’re finished, whether that is earlier or later.<br /><br />The rest of the morning I teach one more ninth grade and all three eighth grade classes. With the passing times, I usually get in about 35 minutes of teaching a class. The eighth grade boys narrowly avoid pulling muscles when they raise their hands, holding them as high as they can and starting to stand up, and when I call on one, the others all groan in disappointment. During class, one of the ninth grade boys will come in for the tennis racket he forgot. A seventh grader will stand outside my window making faces at the students I’m teaching. He ignores me when I gesture to move on, but when I go to my door to say something, he takes off running.<br /><br />The half-hour recess is really a lunch period, (that’s the lunch break!) and I get a meal to-go from the girls’ home which is right next door. The kids run around and eat while the teachers sit together outside. If I don’t have work I need to do, I go sit with them, hoping some Spanish will sink in just having it spoken near me. (I’ll let you know how that works out.) I listen to see if I can understand what they’re saying, and they think I’m following along and will try to include me, which is when I have to admit, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”<br /><br />After recess I teach one more ninth grade class and the three seventh grade classes. The boys, dripping sweat from playing soccer, think it’s funny to try to hug me and get me sweaty. The seventh graders love that I’m reading aloud one chapter of <em>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</em> each day and I can get them to do just about anything if I say I will read them two. They laugh a lot and talk incessantly, though usually about what we’re doing. In literature, I’ll ask them to write down directions for an assignment in their notebook. One will make a mistake in pen and it takes four people to get him the white-out he needs. The ninth graders, if I give them a clear assignment that they can do, will work quietly and intently all class. Other days they never settle down the whole class and will just speak in Spanish then look at me and laugh. In science, somebody will ask me a question, and I’ll tell her, “That’s an excellent question. We’re going to get to that later in the year,” hoping that we never will.<br /><br />When the day ends, Juan will hang out for a while, telling me about his favorite raggeaton musicians. I go get my copies from Claudia, which have fold marks in strange places and are usually all stapled together. I grade their work in their notebooks since for a reason I don’t quite understand, they really hate tearing pages out of them. But it has the bonus that I can correct what looks like a big stack of work in a relatively short time and feel a large sense of accomplishment.<br /><br />On my way out, I stop to talk briefly with Anibar, my favorite security guard. He reminds me of my dad and calls me Karlita, though our conversations are usually limited to him saying something like, “It’s hot today” and me saying, “Yes.” On the five minute walk home, I pass the house with the parrot that sits freely on the gate and the old man who is always there sits up and waves vigorously “Buenas Dias!” The little girl of the house is often outside too, yells “Bye” whether we are coming or going and sometimes adds an extra display of her English, excitedly yelling “onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten.” I'm home by 3:30 and have the evening to study Spanish or tutor a little at the home, and recoup.<br /><br />I laugh and am learning a lot. Despite, or maybe because of, the differences and difficulties, it makes for a pretty interesting life, and interesting is always good.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-84718776079351322342008-09-06T08:09:00.000-05:002008-09-06T08:10:37.045-05:00Not Like the Ones Mom Used to MakeFridays are especially busy because by the end of the day, I need to have completed a form with the topic and homework assignment for each class for each day for the following week. If you ask my old boss, you’ll find that doing lesson plans on time is not exactly my strong point.<br /><br />I tried to get to school a little earlier than my usual 6:30 arrival, and in my rush out the door forgot to bring anything to eat during my morning break. Another volunteer was kind enough to bring me a take-out lunch from the girls’ home, where we get our meals. I finally had a chance to eat towards the end of the day when my 8th grade English class didn’t think it a big deal if I ate while they worked on some grammar exercises. I opened my lunch to find rice and beans and a whole fried fish, head included. A little different from the peanut butter sandwich I had left at home, but actually a lot more delicious.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5172109260902713332.post-8461096252943230102008-08-31T22:04:00.003-05:002008-08-31T22:14:55.665-05:00All work and no play...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77sAmIJatmLYISPF-ZrxWkvD4O9QMHHUU1BoOJmW26hSjYvZEZfzZnpeBF0zzno3eHhffHRsvUr_-czuK-BZomMdZ_5vIFWPN94sn0PlEE6iVY6Kul2MftqGU4ua99pFVbjWEcQJb6Kn5/s1600-h/Copy+of+Tela.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77sAmIJatmLYISPF-ZrxWkvD4O9QMHHUU1BoOJmW26hSjYvZEZfzZnpeBF0zzno3eHhffHRsvUr_-czuK-BZomMdZ_5vIFWPN94sn0PlEE6iVY6Kul2MftqGU4ua99pFVbjWEcQJb6Kn5/s320/Copy+of+Tela.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240884720451728882" /></a><br />Today a few of the volunteers and myself went about an hour and a half north to the beach at Tela. Between the cab driver dropping us off at the wrong place, the inaccuracy of the Lonely Planet address for the bus stop, and my Spanish being the best of the three of us, it was a small adventure just to get a bus ticket. But we eventually got one, and it was a great chance to get out of the city and get some sun. There's nothing like sitting on the beach watching the waves come in to gear up for another week of junior high craziness.Karlahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13664123431933056160noreply@blogger.com1