First Days of School

In the past, when I have done missionary work, I gotten out of bed at the crack of dawn, put on my oldest, rattiest clothes, put on my sunscreen, and got to work. I would sweat and work, work and sweat, until the sun went down. Then I would go to bed, and my whole body would ache like I have been hit by a truck. And then, after the time is up, I return home, eat a lot of fast food and ice cream, and look at my pictures and realize the good times I had and miss the people I met. Needless to say, this experience is quite different.

My work does not consist in handing medicines out in landfills, or digging holes in mountains. It is a much simpler work. But just as important. Or at least that is what I am telling myself. Contrary to my own fears I am not teaching physics or music, but English and Religion. I am teaching English as a second language to girls from Belize and girls from across the border. They are young for high school, some only 11. And some are too old for first form—almost 16 or 17. This age discrepancy leads to a variety of difficulties both in academic level, maturity level, and in a level of discipline. But they are all similar in some ways.

As a first assignment, and to gauge where they stood in there levels of English composition, I asked them to tell me about their homes, their families, and two of the most interesting things about themselves. Many of my girls had such dreams. To graduate, to become psychologists, to become chefs, to go to college. The students all love their families, though sometimes there are no parents, or they are spread out between here and Corozol, or even the States. This left me initially with a firm desire to become their friends, to know their stories, and then to make them able to speak, read, and write English to the best of my ability.

But teaching is not the easiest sport, and after a day of fumbling through a basic lesson and letting the snide remarks of the girls wear on my patience, I’m beginning to doubt not only my purpose, but my ability. Am I really going to be able to do this? It seems like it would be fun for a day, maybe a week, but a whole year? Can I really make that much of a difference? And it doesn’t even feel like I’m doing missionary work anymore. It feels like I’m just working for free. And just drudge work. Lesson plans, grading papers, trying to find two hours worth of materials to teach. Sentences, the History of the Bible…all things that I either know too well or don’t know well enough. It’s all very new to me. And worst of all, while it feels like I have been here for ages, it has only been 5 days! And I have only had a subject to teach for 3 days! It’s already wearing down on me, but maybe I should give my self a few more days at least.

Classes can only get easier as we progress through the year, and I will just have to realize that what small role I am playing in their lives will benefit them in the end. And disciplining them is for their own good. That’s the part I hate most—having to be mean. I want to be their friends, to play games and have fun, but in this role, that is not what I can be.

It will be a constant struggle, but if it wasn’t a struggle, would it really be work?

As the weeks progress, I will have to constantly question why God decided to send me to Benque. There are some small things that make me realize the reasons I am here. The girl who gives me an “assignment,” asking me where I am from, when I go to church, or if I ever back talk to my parents, or the young girls who simply need a strong female in their lives to tell them that it is ok to dream bigger than themselves, and that it is ok to not have a man in their lives to make them feel of worth. If that is all God has sent me here for, than it will have to be given in the best of my ability. I’ll just have to play some basketball with the locals to make my body feel like its been pummeled by traffic…

First Impressions

Though I have only been in Benque for a mere 2 full days, it already seems like I have been here for quite a while. It was quite natural to fall into the natural rhythm of the Belizean way of life; and though I will never be quite in their time zone, where everything will happen when it is meant to happen, I’m beginning to appreciate the slower way of life. You walk the streets here and you see all the residents out and about--especially during the early evenings. The women are hanging the laundry to dry, the boys are kicking soccer balls or riding bikes, and the men are sitting around listening to the radio. I don’t know them yet, but I am hoping that soon I will blend in a bit more and be able to talk to the people. I wish to get to know them, form a relationship with them, allow them to take part in my life leave an indent in my heart. It may take some time though, but I seem to have plenty of that. Or do I?

Tomorrow is the first day of school and I have yet to learn what I am teaching. I am crossing my fingers that I will be teaching English, but I have this fear that I will be teaching math. Apparently I can switch with the optical engineer student who was assigned English. Its funny how we all have been assigned these subjects and for the most part, we are flying by the seat of our pants. Only few of us have ever been teachers before, and while its really scary, its terribly exciting. I just want to be good at it. My only fear is that of failure. I want this journey to be a success in so many ways. I know the teaching doesn’t have to be the greatest but I do want to make an impression on my students. I want to foster their dreams, foster their passions, and be a person whom they will remember fondly long after I am gone. Even if there are only a few students who remember me. That would be a success. At least in the teaching realm of this journey.

I feel like I put so many expectations about what I should get out of it that it might be impossible for me to achieve them all. Find myself. Form relationships with people from Belize. Form relationships with the other volunteers. Form relationships with my students and teach like my hair is on fire. See Belize (And some of Guatamala). Learn Spanish. Learn to better deny myself. Become a generally better human being who will return to the states ready to conquer the world..and at least have some answers about what the next step of life will be. Can someone really achieve all of these things in just 9 short months? My experience in travelling has been that the first half of the trip seems like an eternity, and the second half half flies by. But this is no ordinary trip. I’m not just visiting, I’m living here. I should take a cue from my new neighbors and just let things happen. But at the same time keep the impending departure, that while still in the distance will come sooner than I could ever imagine. As always it is a question of balance. In the end, the question is how to quickly get into the groove of living Belizean style without stealing from the philosophy of living simply and simply living—and taking life one day at a time, with no question of tomorrow. .