Arriving in Honduras!

So normally my blog is not so much a regular account of my daily activities as it is a forum for my random musings.  Last year, on my trip to London, I switched up this format and wrote a daily blog entry about all of my activities for the past 24 hours.  I have no idea if this is any more or less boring to anyone who reads this than my normal blog entries, but I found it enjoyable for myself to have a detailed record of that whole trip.  And since this blog is mostly for me to process, I'm going to try this "daily update" formula again for my trip to Honduras--starting today!

"Today" has actually been the past 36 hours, which are all bleeding together into one long traveling day.  I flew into New York City Friday night, but after a long week of work, I hadn't really given myself a lot of time to think about the details of this trip.  And so I found myself standing in the middle of the Jet Blue terminal, trying to figure out how to make my way to the international flights terminal, and (for some bizarre reason -- I think I felt foolish) unwilling to ask for help.  This resulted in me taking the moving sidewalk back and forth about 3 times with all of my luggage before I finally figured out that I just needed to go a little farther than I'd gone the other 3 times and I found the way to Terminal 4.  I then had to wait until 2 AM for my flight to board and spent most of the time grading papers (to try and stay awake--middle school writing is actually pretty amusing) and staying as far as I could away from the middle school boys' field trip group that was also about to board my plane.  (My prayer went something like this:  Dear Lord, I already work with middle schoolers all the time.  This is my vacation.  Please, don't make me sit with them!)  FINALLY boarded the plane, and immediately fell asleep and slept the whole way (incredible for me) until we arrived in San Pedro Sula.  

My brother had agreed to fly in and meet me in San Pedro Sula and take the bus back with me to La Ceiba.  (For timing reasons, it didn't work for me to fly to La Ceiba.)  I was praying that he would arrive before me because I only know about 3 phrases in Spanish, and my "Spanish for Dummies" booklet had taught me how to say "I need help" but not to explain what specific help I needed.  (It did, however, teach me how to say, "I can't breathe."  Pretty unhelpful, given that I doubt I'd be able to speak--much less speak in Spanish--if I couldn't breathe.)  Thankfully, I stepped out of customs and immediately saw a tall skinny blond gringo waiting to meet me!   This was our "Sarah survived the flight" picture: 

After hugs, Andy got me a delicious coffee drink to wake me up (apparently "iced coffee" here is similar to a Dunkin Donuts Coffee Coolata -- sweet, icy, caffeinated goodness!) and some breakfast.  Then we waited in a long line to buy the bus tickets and waited even longer to board the bus, reminding me that my American sense of efficiency is not necessarily valued here.  So we read American magazines, told stories, changed into cooler clothes, and practiced my extremely limited Spanish with a sweet older woman who told me I look like I'm 18.  Here's us, a little more awake, waiting on the curb for the bus (note the short sleeves!!!):

The bus ride was actually quite enjoyable, although it was almost as long as my flight to Honduras because of traffic.  We were on an air conditioned luxury bus that provided food and a movie (Nancy Drew, of all things) and I really enjoyed getting to look out the window as we drove between the two cities.  I was struck, as we were driving through the countryside, by how much of "life" was lived visibly, outdoors:  I saw people hanging up laundry, selling produce, walking to/from school, playing in the river, talking with neighbors, cooking dinner.  It felt almost voyeuristic to be watching this through a bus window, but it also reminded me a lot of my trips to Romanian villages:  life is lived outdoors, in view of the community.  I admire it in a lot of ways, but I also don't want to glamorize it.  Some of this is cultural, and some of it is also tied to poverty -- less opportunity to put up walls, even if you want them.  I mentioned it to Andy and contrasted what I saw with what I would see driving through any neighborhood in the US -- yards, maybe a few kids playing outside or someone walking their dog, but not nearly this much activity.  He drew an even starker contrast between what we were seeing and the wealthier neighborhoods in the city, where not only is life more private, but everyone actually has a high wall around their house, usually with a padlocked gate and barbed wire or spikes at the top to prevent theft.   See, for example, this random shot from outside the car window once we were in the city:  

The only really unenjoyable part of the bus ride was the couple in front of us, who spent the entire 3.5 hours making out.  (Side note:  I'm ok with mild PDA in public, especially since it was Valentine's Day, but when you are leaning your seat back into me so that you can move on top of one another -- not ok.)  Once we arrived in La Ceiba and caught a cab back to Andy's house (which we had to share with someone else -- you guessed it, the make-out couple) we napped and bummed around for the rest of the day.  We took a quick walk around Andy's neighborhood and got honked at constantly.  (Apparently because we're "gringos," or white people -- Andy says cabs always honk at gringos because they expect you to want a ride, and other cars just honk because they can.)  Andy then took me to get baleadas for dinner -- tortillas stuffed with eggs, cheese, refried beans, and then pretty much anything else you want -- delicioso!  I don't think I've actually ever had homemade tortillas before, but I am now ruined forever; they are so much better than the dry things you buy at the grocery store.  I wanted to take a picture but Andy didn't want me to look like a tourist, so I resisted the urge.  

The night ended with a 2-hour effort to find The Office on streaming TV that will still download in Honduras (apparently NBC.com charges you), which we finally discovered and thoroughly enjoyed the misadventures of Michael Scott.  As I'm writing this, it is actually now Sunday afternoon, but because this post has become so long I'll save writing about today for later this evening or tomorrow.  Hasta luego!  (Look at me learning Spanish!)  ;)  

February in Honduras

On Friday, I am jetting out of this freezing cold wasteland called my home (just kidding, I love it, but it is SO FREAKING COLD) and going here:


"Here," in case you didn't know (because I wouldn't have, unfortunately -- I blame the fact that my 8th grade geography teacher had to take maternity leave and we were left to browse the internet for 4 months, but that's another story) is Honduras. I am headed to La Ceiba, which is on the northern coast. My brother Andy is working with Mission to the World down there on a church planting/mercy ministry team that is just starting up. I had been wanting to visit Andy since I found out he was going but didn't think I could because of the cost. Then (surprise!) my parents agreed to help pay for the travel costs as a joint Christmas present for both Andy and me. As a side note, I think he got the raw end of the deal: I get a trip to a tropical climate in the middle of February, a chance to travel to a continent I have never visited before, an incredible opportunity to become more educated about the language and culture of the area where most of my students are from and about world missions, a vacation away from the stresses of my life here, and he gets -- me. Thankfully, he's at least faking being grateful. :)

While I am excited, I am also ridiculously nervous. I do not like flying in general, but especially by myself, and especially to foreign countries. Last time I did that, I ended up losing my plane ticket during a layover and sobbing at a ticket counter in Vienna while the very mean Austrian man told me that I would have to pay the fee for a new ticket -- oh, and by the way, that's actually in Euros, and the exchange rate isn't in your favor. In that same encounter, I also nearly maxed out my credit card and had to IM a friend from an internet cafe to transfer money into my banking account (which is exactly the kind of thing they tell you not to do if you're traveling, and exactly the kind of message that's usually a scam if you're stateside -- thankfully, my friend recognized that I was the kind of person who could actually get myself into such a scrape). Needless to say, that soured me a little to the experience of foreign travel alone, so I need many prayers. (I'm also being a little more strategic this time -- Andy is picking me up in a bus when I land in Honduras, even though I could actually catch a connecting flight to his city. I told him -- no more layovers in airports where I don't speak the language!)

Meanwhile, I still have a full week ahead of me and need to get some rest now so I am fully awake to grade the mounds of papers greeting me on my desk tomorrow. Friday is coming quickly, but it still seems a long way off right now.

A Boston Fairytale

Overheard at lunch today (true story):

Little girl: Mommy, who is George Bush?

Mom: He's a man who used to be President, but people didn't like him very much.

Girl: Why didn't they like him?

Mom: Well, a long time ago, many people thought he was ok -- even I did for awhile. But then we learned that he was very, very, very, VERY not smart. But then it was too late because he was already the President and there was nothing people could do.

Girl: Oh no!

Mom: But it's all ok now, because he's not President anymore.

Girl: Where did he go?

Mom: He went back to a place where people like him, and where he can live his life happily but not be in charge of a whole country anymore.

Girl: So he's gone for good?

Mom: Yes, he's gone for good.

Girl: Yippeeeeeeeee!

Mom: Yes, yippee! Now chew with your mouth closed, please.

[Ah, the amazing power of parenting.]

High-Low

At my old job, we used to do "highs and lows" of the day. It's a nice way to process quickly when a lot is going on. This has felt like an incredibly long week and I need to process, so here are my highs and lows, in no particular order:

LOWS
--having to explain to a parent that her son has been lying to her on a regular basis about what goes on at school
--having to explain to another student that he will fail English this quarter because he skipped too many days of school
--teaching several classes that just felt disorganized and inefficient -- how does 50 minutes go by so quickly?!
--the copy machine breaking down when I had 5 minutes until I had to be in homeroom and I needed 150 copies to make it through my lesson
--working 14 hour days, 3 days in a row
--getting stuck in the grocery section of Target for an hour because I was too tired to make decisions
--struggling with insecurities and seeing more clearly how self-obsessed I am, and how powerless I am on my own to get out of it

HIGHS
--chaperoning an 8th grade dance and having my students try to teach me the Superman (which started with, "Ms. Stuntz, don't worry, ANYONE can do it" and ended with, "Ms. Stuntz, it's really great that you tried...")
--a student who struggles in my class asking me to tutor her, and then telling me, "Ms. Stuntz, if you ever need to pull me from basketball practice to tutor me you can -- I know it's important that I do well in school, too." This same girl has been mad at me all fall about the work being too hard, so for her to say this, unprompted, and to seek me out was an incredible encouragement.
--on that note, getting to attend my kids' basketball game with my roommate, and seeing some of the students who struggle the most in my class really shine on the court and feel so proud of themselves. Also, wonderfully encouraging to have Becca come all the way out to East Boston to meet all my kids and be involved in my life -- love, love, love my roommates.
--on THAT note, Kate asking me every single night how I'm doing even though her week has been rough. I am so grateful and awed that I have people in my life who know me so well and yet love me so much.
--and on THAT note, being reminded, again, that I am powerless to change my insecurities and self-obsession on my own -- but that God is more than powerful. This is a high and a low -- painful to see over and over again how deeply rooted my idols of people-pleasing and success are and how ugly my sins is, but also so necessary, and beautiful to realize that God is showing me my heart because he loves me. A friend said to me this summer that this year would be incredibly hard but that the difficulties made it a wonderful opportunity for God to grow me and teach me to depend on him. Some days I can only see the "hard," so I'm really grateful for the days when I see the growing.
--the $1 aisle in Target
--learning to do step (and hearing the fitness teacher say, with deep surprise in her voice, "you've actually got rhythm!")
--reading a poem with my students that really caused them to think about their role in stopping violence ("The Boy Died in My Alley" by Gwendolyn Brooks)
--getting to fall asleep in a wonderfully warm house on a very cold Boston night. which is what I am going to do right now. Goodnight, world.

Inauguration Reflections

We watched clips from the inauguration today with my students. It took a little class time but was absolutely 100% worth it. One of the most common "gaps" in education for low-income students is knowledge of and participation in current events. This is often much harder to overcome than any one educational objective, but nevertheless important, and I was really glad that my school prioritized the sharing of this event over other activities today.

I was especially impressed with the way my principal facilitated the viewing. She downloaded clips of Obama's speech beforehand and stopped the speech throughout to ask the students' questions and make sure they were processing what they were hearing. (I know I retained more from the speech this way, so I'm sure they did!)

Two moments in this speech that were particularly powerful for me:

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

I almost cried when I heard "a parent's willingness to nurture a child," because I have been humbled more and more as I've realized that often the seemingly "smallest" things we do can have the most profound impact. I won't lie: I want to be one of those people who change entire communities, systems, the world. I am always dissatisfied because the work I am doing is not "big" enough. But as I get to know my students, and I see so clearly the difference that one parent can make, and I am humbled and embarrassed at how I belittle this kind of impact in my mind. I have been praying that God would allow me to be of use in his kingdom and to humble my heart so that I do not care how big the result -- that I would not pass up the opportunity to host one friend or love one child out of pursuit of some more "glorious" dream. This is glorious; this is how God commands us to love. As I am learning this, it was precious to hear our President repeat this to my students: to affirm to students who I am teaching to be ambitious that their ambition can bring them to be President of the United States -- or to be a faithful parent or a caring coworker. And both are worthy and wonderful service.

Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the fainthearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom.

This is the message that we repeat to our students every day: the value of hard work; the importance of doing good; and the necessity of taking risks. This last one is, in some ways, the hardest to instill--after all, they are teenagers, and risk-taking (for the right reasons) is much less appealing than sticking to the status quo. But the problem with this is that the status quo is all against them. I am realizing more and more that every day for my students has to be a risk. They are breaking the norms in their neighborhood by attending a school that makes them stay later, wear a uniform, and do their homework. They are battling expectations about their worth and futures based on where and to whom they were born. One of my students has transformed this year from a disengaged "too cool for school" kid to a student who really wants to try his best, and to hear him raise his hand and point out, "The President told us we have to take risks" -- that made me thankful.

I want to join the chorus of those pointing out that Barack Obama is not the Messiah, and that no one person or government will change the world. But these were moments where I thought he spoke truth, and it was so wonderful to be present for those moments with my students, to watch them listening to and engaging with truth that transcends facts and goes to the core of what it means to be the people God created them to be. I want desperately for my kids to grow into these people, more and more every day as God grows my love for them. It was precious to watch them hearing these truths from someone as important as the President of the United States, and to pray along with the President--for them--that we would all "walk in God's grace."

No Words

My favorite thing about well-written poetry is its power to express emotions that I have felt but have never known the words to describe. I have been thinking and praying through doubts a lot this year, maybe particularly since Christmas, and I just found this poem that describes the experience of faith after doubt more eloquently than I could ever hope to. It's by Alfred, Lord Tennyson from "In Memoriam." I could comment on it, but nothing I say (especially at this late hour) will do anything but diminish the power of the poem, so here it is:

"That which we dare invoke to bless;
Our dearest faith; our ghastliets doubt;
He, They, One, All; within, without;
The Power in darkness whom we guess--

I found Him not in world or sun,
Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye,
Nor through the questions men may try,
The petty cobwebs we have spun.

If e'er when faith had fallen asleep,
I heard a voice, "believe no more,"
And heard an ever-breaking shore
That tumbled in the Godless deep,

A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answered, "I have felt."

No, like a child in doubt and fear:
But that blind clamor made me wise;
Then was I as a child that cries,
But, crying, knows his father near;

And what I am beheld again
What is, and no man understands;
And out of darkness came the hands
That reach through nature, molding men."

"a very great and pretty person"

I can't decide yet whether I feel like an adult. My world right now is split between two realms. There is the "real world" realm--job, car, bills, meetings, rent, taxes--where I am expected to function as an independent person but have no clue what I'm doing and thus feel very young. And then there is the teacher realm, where I am not just an adult, but a "super adult"; I spend all day being the authority in 49 people's lives, and all the kids think I'm 50.

Sometimes my mind is stuck in one of these worlds and I have a hard time transitioning to the other. I am tempted occasionally to "pull a teacher" on other adults (I almost assigned my neighbors a demerit awhile ago, but that's another story). But most of the time, I feel like I have the reverse problem -- I feel so very young and inexperienced that I forget I am this "super adult" to the people I spend -- let's face it -- most of my waking hours with.

So I forget things like the fact that anything I say can suddenly carry the weight of "wisdom," whether I intend it to or not. A student in our grade recently gave a speech to the rest of her classmates about what motivated her during an assembly; she started by saying, "As Ms. Stuntz taught us, 'Every cloud has a silver lining.'" I had made them figure out this expression a few days before when I was feeling grumpy about a project we were doing and needed to adjust my attitude (once again, not really an adult...) but it was a 5 minute tangent and I never expected it to stick. I thought, "Oh no! Such a cliche!" but there it was, and all the children were smiling and nodding at me and I had to nod back with a big, "I'm proud of you" smile. The principal hasn't yet mentioned that on my evaluation. Here's hoping it's not the first thing that comes to mind when she's analyzing the "rigor" of my curriculum.

I also forget that I am someone to impress. My students are, hands down, cooler than me. This is not just because I'm an adult and they're teenagers. If I were in middle school with them, I can guarantee that they would not have hung out with me. Thankfully, I am not in middle school, and my job is to be the crazy cheesy lady in the front of the room who they scowl at, so most of the time our coolness discrepancy is more amusing than bothersome. Then, though, there are the delightful days when they swallow their pride and decide they need, usually for some desperate reason, to win me over. These days are few and far between (remember, I am still very, very uncool) but I've had three in the past week that were funny and I thought I'd share.

1) I am in the midst of writing my students high school recommendations. They are supposed to attach a letter to me "formally" requesting this recommendation. One student started hers, "Dear Ms. Stuntz, Let me first say thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to have you as a teacher." Apparently, I deigned to allow this very grateful student to sit in my class and pout when I assign homework, although I don't even remember that interaction. Who knew I had such a magnanimous nature?

2) The other afternoon, a group of students asked me, "Ms. Stuntz, what do you do when you're not teaching us?" (This was shortly after they had seen me walk in with a Dunkin Donuts cup, so I knew that this question was not innocent curiosity.) I said, "Well, normally, I grade papers or plan lessons." One student responded, "Hmm. You know, come to think of it, my teachers really do work harder than me." Thanks, Kevin, for the affirmation. I wasn't sure about that one.

3) Since my students are hormonal, they all go through a wide range of emotions regarding their teachers, often on a minute-by-minute basis. The one student who I am absolutely convinced does not like me a majority of the time recently got suspended. He came back to class today clearly knowing that he needed to get back in everyone's good graces. I had a teacher "surprise" us in class by carrying in a cake; I then asked the students to write down why they thought the other teacher had brought me a cake (as part of our discussion on how to make reasonable inferences). This student wrote, "because it's good and you are a very great and pretty person." No more needs be said about that one.