The First Week of School

Since tomorrow is the end of the first week of school, I'll give you a little update on what's been going on here.
I was approaching the beginning of the school year with many mixed emotions. Last year I had some very difficult students. One of them, I found out over break, is not returning. This brought me great amounts of relief, although it sounds horrible to say it. Jesus, teach me how to truly love like You do. But still, I faced the prospect of another year with a certain amount of trepidation. Mixed in with that feeling was one of excitement and enthusiasm for a new year, a clean slate, a chance to improve over last year. On top of that was wondering how it was going to go teaching three grades instead of two.
Monday dawned cold and rainy. On top of that, there was some sort of agricultural strike which affected public transportation. Between these two factors, many of our kids didn't show up. Most families here don't have their own car and depend solely on public transportation to get around. So when there's no public transportation, things come pretty much to a standstill. But, undaunted, we started anyway.
As the week has progressed, nearly all of our enrolled students have showed up, thankfully. Our enrollment is about 130, up from 90 last year. It's been a good week overall. Yes, there have been challenges, but it's been positive so far. I am teaching third, fourth and fifth grade English this year, since we have a shortage of English teachers right now. Despite the busyness and the crazy running here and there, I'm enjoying it.
My third grade class is proving to be my most challenging so far. Managing them is difficult. There are several who I feel like I am constantly talking to. And there's Nohelia. Nohelia is being raised by her brother and sister, since her parents died about 2 years ago. The family is struggling to make it financially and Nohelia is struggling to make it emotionally. The complaint of teachers last year is that she doesn't want to do anything in class. She just sits there. Same story when you talk to her. She just sits there and doesn't respond. The third grade teacher this year echoed that thought when I talked to her yesterday. I noted her reluctance to cooperate yesterday as well in my class. My theory is that she needs a lot of love and a lot of discipline. So I'm trying something. I ask her every time I see her if she needs a hug. And she usually does. I don't know if it will work or not, but it's worth a try. Jesus, thank You for arms and a heart that love to give hugs!
My fourth grade class is a blessing! Last year they frustrated me quite a bit with their bad attitudes and a difficulty with listening and paying attention and obeying. Not all of them, but enough of them that just entering the room made my stress level rise many days, especially towards the end of the year. This year, they are so different! The absence of several students makes a difference, as well as the fresh motivation and some maturing after two months of break. They have been great for me this week and I'm really enjoying them! Thank you Jesus!
Fifth grade continues to be a blessing as well. They enjoy English, are motivated, and generally have a good ability to learn the language. They understand well and are also willing to speak. We have a good rapport. The class has a love affair with pizza which was revisited the second day of class when they asked me when we can make pizza in class again. Oh boy...
I decided to do something new this year and choose a student every day to choose an English song to sing. It's great English practice for them and they really seem to enjoy it. I've also taught all my classes this week a song about the fruit of the Spirit, since that's both a theme in the school this year and the verse we're learning this month. The song talks about how the fruit of the Spirit is not a coconut, banana, raisin, kiwi, cherry, watermelon, grape, etc. Each of the fruits has a motion to it. All three classes love the song and ask to sing it every day. I was very impressed to note today that a good number of my fifth graders are actually getting the words, despite the fact that they are fast and in English! Whooohoooo! Singing together has probably been my favorite part of the week thus far.
I realized, in processing all this tonight, that God has been so faithful and good and truly has answered many prayers for this year, especially as far as fourth grade is concerned and as far as I personally am concerned. I can tell that my attitude is much better since the break than it was before. As I teach my kids the fruit of the Spirit, that's been a focus in my own heart as well. I've realized since being here that my tree needs to be bearing much more fruit. I need to be more like Jesus.
So I'm looking forward to the rest of the year. Oh, I won't say that it won't have its difficult times. I won't say it already hasn't. But I know that I'm not alone in this and that God will continue to be my help and enable me to bear more fruit.

My cold hands and Isabo

I have almost perpetually cold hands. Always have. Probably always will. Enter Isabo. Isabo is in Carrie's summer English class. She's going in to first grade. She's a quick little girl who loves to talk and sing and participate. Yesterday we were standing in a circle with all the kids singing "Hallelalalalelalelujah". And then we grabbed hands to pray. Isabo happened to be standing in between me and Jessica, another girl who is here for several months helping out in the school. Grabbing both of our hands, which were both cold, she said, half to herself, half to whoever else happened to be listening "Alalau!", which is the Quechua word for "Brrrr!". (They don't get brrrrr here.) That in itself made me laugh.
So after we prayed, I said, "Isabo, I'm sorry. My hands are freezing!" She looked at me in all sincerity and simply said "Guantes" (gloves). And again I had to laugh.
Then today we went to the zoo with all the English class kids. Isabo was sitting on my lap on the bus on the way there. All of a sudden, her hands grasped mine. Before I knew it, my hands were crammed into the tiny pocket on the front of her sweatshirt, half of my palms sticking out either side. My fingers, amazingly, began feeling warmer. And then she put her little hands on top of the backs of my hands that were sticking out of her pocket, covering them protectively. And my whole hands started to feel the warmth. Pretty soon, they weren't cold anymore. My heart, at the same time, was melting too, for the record. Here was this tiny little girl, half my size, was taking care of my cold hands and warming them up as best as she knew how.
And so God showed me love today through the warm hands of a 6-year-old Peruvian child in a blue sweatsuit on the bus on the way to zoo.

Women and Technology - a different perspective

Here's a little story, just to make you smile.
Washing machines here are a luxury. The majority of Peruvian women wash their clothes by hand and teach their kids how to do it too. Realistically, it would be extremely rare to find a Peruvian who had never had the experience of washing clothes by hand.
My friend Marga's washing machine broke down the other month. Apparently, several weeks ago she was lamenting this fact to someone at church and David, the pastor overheard her.
"Only lazy women use washing machines", he told her.
"No David," she replied. "I'm not the lazy one. While I'm washing clothes, I'm also cooking, cleaning, washing dishes, and taking care of my kids. I get a lot done in a short time! The lazy one is the woman who doesn't have a washing machine and spends all day washing clothes, not getting anything else done!"

Adventures in Bolivia

I'm in Arequipa right now and don't have my computer with me. So I won't have pictures for this one, but thought I'd give you all a good laugh anyway. :) Hopefully I can add pictures once I get back home.
So I went to Santa Cruz, Bolivia with my friend Marisol to visit her brother Alfredo, who is working in a children's home and studying there. We left on Sunday night, January 4, at 10 PM on a bus, en route to La Paz, Bolivia, the first leg of our journey. We crossed the border with no problems whatsoever (thank you Jesus!) and about 2 hours later, pulled into La Paz. Arriving in the bus terminal there, we decided to look for tickets for Santa Cruz. After hearing from about two bus lines that there were no tickets, I decided to ask why and was informed that there were landslides on the road to Santa Cruz and no buses were going there. We asked what our other options were and were told that we could go to Cochabamba in a bus and then get a smaller van from there to take us to Santa Cruz. That was the only way, short of flying. We opted for the bus, since it seemed like a reliable option. There was a bus leaving in about half an hour, so we bought tickets and headed out of La Paz less than an hour after arriving. Wow!
7 hours later, around 8:30, we arrived in Cochabamba. Inquiring about vans headed to Santa Cruz, we were told that there was one leaving immediately. It was expensive, but "guaranteed" to get us there. So we loaded all our stuff in. The only place for it was right where our feet needed to go. So we put our feet on top and I tried to find a comfortable angle to stretch out my feet without putting them in anyone else's personal space....hmmm....hard to do when there are 8 people in a minivan with luggage and all. We traveled out of Cochabamba, to the tune of an older woman of obvious Quechua descent who was making sure the driver knew he could not drive too fast or too dangerously. For about 2 hours, we traveled in this fashion, until we stopped, thanks to a traffic jam. The driver got out, leaving his 7 passengers trying to find sleep in a stuffed van with a man who snored very determinedly. We sat there for about 3 hours till we could finally go. Traveling about a half an hour more, we got stuck again. This time, we decided to wait out the rest of the night (only a few hours at this point) and see what would happen in the morning. Later I found out that we were stopped due to the fact that there had been a landslide and part of the road had fallen out of place and was now completely impassable. In the early morning, no one was exactly sure when there would be a way through or if there would be. So we decided the best bet was to walk. We joined the human stream of people flowing towards the site of the landslide. It turned into a human river the closer we got. We ended up walking for 2 hours, carrying all our stuff, shifting it between us in order to avoid our muscles from getting too sore from carrying too much weight for too long. We tried at one point to wrap up all my stuff in my blanket so I could carry it more easily on my back. We had to try about 3 times to get it all comfortable, much to the amusement of the people from the country who were sitting there watching this gringa try to get a large load on her back, with much assistance from my friend Marisol. We finally got it on and I started walking, only to realize that the material in my blanket was highly stretchy and my load was shifting lower and lower and lower. We abandoned the idea quickly, laughing all the while. Finally, we reached the site of the landslide and waited for the road equipment to finish working so we could go across to the other side. Arriving on the other side, we decided we didn't want to walk the 7 kilometers that apparently were still between us and a bus that would take us to Santa Cruz. So we took motorcycles conveniently parked there and doing quite a brisk business shuttling people back and forth. Minutes later, the motorcycle drivers deposited us at the makeshift bus stop where buses were heading back to Santa Cruz, after having lost their passengers in the mass of people moving to where we had just come from. We found a bus leaving right away, a regular city bus. The next 9 hours or so were spent traveling on this bus (which became very uncomfortable after about 7 hours), which finally took us to Santa Cruz.
The first thing we did after arriving was call Alfredo, who was waiting for us at another bus terminal. While waiting for him to come, I discovered that Bolivia is the land of unexpected ups and downs when the sidewalk and I had a close encounter. End result: a skinned knee and a nice little hole in my sweatpants. :( Welcome to Santa Cruz.
The rest of the day went much better. We took a much-needed shower and went to the mall to watch a movie. It ws good to see Alfredo again. I knew him when I was here with YES, but hadn't gotten to reconnect till now, beyond email and facebook.
We asked Alfredo what he wanted to eat from Peru. He immediately answered aji de gallina, which is like chicken in a yellow sauce, served with rice and potatoes. You gotta understand that Marisol hates cooking and I don't know how to do it very well. So we got our heads together. After getting all the ingredients, we began to cook. Between the two of us, we made it, though we had a moment of panic when the aji sauce turned out super salty. A little more bread and milk and some more boiling took care of that one. Two heads are definitely better than one.
The week was spent getting to know some of the people and places that are a part of Santa Cruz. One day we visited the random sand dunes that are plunked down in the middle of the countryside outside the city. Before we got to see the dunes, however we spent an hour pushing Alfredo's friend Noel's taxi out of the sand where it got severely stuck. Thanks to some ingenious engineering involving flip flops, sticks, water, car jacks and stones (some successful and some not so much), we got the car unstuck and went to see the dunes, which were beautiful and rather mystifying, seeing as how I have no idea how God dropped all that sand there.
Another day, we went to see Las Cabañas, a collection of restaurants housed in thatched-roofed huts with no walls, serving typical Bolivian food. Yummy!
We spent lots of time walking around downtown Santa Cruz, enjoying the scenery and shopping. We saw several movies and spent time getting to know Alfredo's friens. Mari wanted to stay longer, but I needed to leave earlier to get back to Arequipa for the missionary retreat. So I decided to fly part of the way back. Sunday morning at 6:30, I flew out of the Santa Cruz airport, landing in La Paz 1 hour later. From there, I got a van to the border, about 2 hours away. The van dropped me off about half a mile from the border, but I had no idea where to go, so I took a tricycle - basically like a big, 3-wheeled bike with a large wooden box in front, pedaled by a driver, in which I and all my stuff could fit. Thankfully, I had another uneventful border crossing (it's always kind of nerve-wracking to cross the border with nothing but a Peruvian green card. I'm never quite sure if they're going to accept it as valid. So far I haven't had any problems, but I have friends who have.) From the border, I found a bus headed to Arequipa. 9 hours later, around 8 PM, I arrived in Arequipa. The Arequipan taxi driver who "just happened to" be sitting next to me on the bus, and to whom I had a chance to talk about God, helped me find a taxi to take me to my hotel and made sure he didn't charge me too much.
And so it all worked out. Yes, I had adventure. But, despite all the craziness, traveling actually went pretty smoothly. I never had to wait more than half an hour to find any kind of transportation. I always had people there who knew what they were doing. And I had a big God by my side. And I need to go because the computer battery is dying quickly. Blessings to you all and hopefully pictures will come soon!

Going to the campo and I'm serving hot chocolate

This past weekend I went to the campo, the countryside of Peru, away from the lights and sounds of the city. A group of 7 of us went from the three churches in the vicinity of Cusco, in order to deliver some Christmas cheer, in the form of hot chocolate, bread, toys, clothes, and balloon animals. We left on a sunny Saturday morning in a van laden with feed sacks and several garbage bags full of clothes donated by church members, matresses, tents, our own stuff, food, supplies for hot chocolate....everything except the kitchen sink, basically. Driving in the campo in Peru is quite an adventure. Let me see if I can give you a mental picture. All around are huge, green mountains, like immense folds of green cloth draped randomly on the earth, stretching as far as the eye can see. At this time of the year, they look somewhat like patchwork quilts, lots of tiny fields joined together with red-brown adobe walls. Cut into the sides of these mountains are thin, winding dirt roads with no guard rails, in most places just wide enough for one car (luckily we didn't see any other cars while we were going out). Around the blind curves (of which there seemed to be a lot), we blew the horn, just in case. One side of the road is cut into the mountain. The other side is a large drop-off, plunging down the side of the mountain. Occasionally, a cluster of adobe houses clings to the side of the mountain. Even more occasionally, you'll see a village. We traveled on these roads for several hours, stopping several times to make sure the road was passable. Since it's the rainy season, there are mud puddles and slippery spots where the van wanted to slide around and fishtail. I didn't get too worried most of the time, but there were a few times that I stressed out for a minute. We were headed to a village called Limacpampa, where the church has not been working yet, which was still about an hour down the road when we came to a serious problem. There had been a landslide on the road and it was now blocked. With the help of picks and muscles, we shoved enough rocks off the edge of the road so that we could get the van through. Happy with ourselves, we climbed back into the van and continued our journey...for about another 500 feet till we came to another landslide. Roberto decided that it was not safe for us to continue, because the mountain still looked unstable. And besides, there were at least two more landslides on the road that we could see. So after a quick conference, we decided to go to San Juan de Quihuares and Yarccacunca, two villages where the church is already established. So we turned around and headed back to San Juan de Quihuares. As we pulled into the village, it was raining. Hard. The rain turned all the dirt roads to mud. When it stopped, we decided to walk down the slippery mud path to the church. I followed Roberto's boot prints, walking past the pigs grazing and climbing over the fence that keeps someone's bulls in their pen. Yes, that's really how the people get to church there! We eventually carried everything into the church and surveyed our new surroundings. The church sanctuary is big, built in faith because the people are few. Next to the church is a kitchen, a small adobe room with a stack of adobe bricks in the middle. The stove in the church is really complex....ready for this? Take one adobe brick and place it against the wall/stack of adobes that are in the middle of the room. Take another adobe brick and place it about a foot away from the other one, against the wall as well. Build a fire between the two bricks. Place a pot on top and there's your stove! The bathroom is even more complex. Go into the cornfield beside the church.
We cooked our dinner and went to bed early, knowing we'd need to get up early the next morning. Tip for the wise that I learned that night: when cooking over an open fire, rub mud on the outside of the pot to keep it from getting all black. It really works; try it! I got up at about 5:30 and dressed, to the sound of one of the men from the church chopping firewood in the kitchen (people in the country get up early). We decided that the best time to give out hot chocolate and things would be 8 AM, since kids in the country have to help take care of the family's animals and things during the day. We melted the chocolate bar in some water, then began boiling a huge 50-liter pot of water to make the hot chocolate for about 130 people. It took a really long time to boil that much water. At one point, I had a moment of panic when I realized that I hadn't seen any cups whatsoever in which to serve the hot chocolate. The Peruvians reassured me that, nope, the kids bring their own cups. After the water boiled, we dumped in the chocolate, added powdered milk and sugar, stirred it all together and we had hot chocolate! Just in time too. The kids started coming, a few at a time, heads disheveled, clothes dirty, feet protruding from rubber-tire ojotas. They shyly held out their tin cups (or small pitchers or disposable small soda bottles) for their hot chocolate. "T'antayki kaypi kashan", I told them. Here's your bread. And, happily, they went outside to makeshift benches or the grass to savor their treat. While they were eating, Carrie, Hilda, Roberto and Ruth handed out toys, clothing and balloon animals, while Pamela and I served hot chocolate and bread in the kitchen. There was one little girl who was so cute. She just sat on the bench in the kitchen by the door for the longest time, not saying a word, eating her bread so daintily, dipping it in her hot chocolate and letting the drips run off before popping it into her mouth. She couldn't have been more than 3. Every time we tried to talk to her, in Spanish or Quechua, she just stared at us, not saying a word. We ended up serving about 130 people.
After the last people came through the line and the crowd drifted away, we had church out on the lawn in the sun, sitting on low wooden benches. There were about 25 people in church that morning, listening to Roberto preach about Jesus as Emmanuel. The service was simple and fairly short. At the end, one of the leaders of the church made an announcement about wanting help to construct the church bathroom. I was thinking he was talking about sometime in the next few weeks or months. But as we were cooking lunch after church, some of the hermanos came back with picks and shovels and began to hack at the long grass by the fence surrounding the church property. I asked Roberto what they were making and he replied "the bathroom". By the time we finished eating lunch and packed up to go to Yarccacunca, the foundation was dug and the adobe brick walls were beginning to take shape. We wound again around mountain roads, en route to Yarccacunca. Arriving, we had to carry everything again from the van to the church, about a 5 minute walk, but not as easy as it sounds, since it was all uphill - steep uphill. We were pleased to find, on arriving, that there was a bathroom and a kitchen with two adobe woodburning stoves (actual stoves, not adobe bricks). We hung out for a while, then the youth started coming for their weekly youth meeting. It was awkward at first, with no one talking, no one knowing quite what to say. People are more shy to talk in the country. Then we started the meeting and everyone warmed up to each other. After the youth left, we cooked supper and roasted marshmallows and Peruvian hot dogs over the fire. The next morning, we woke up early and began the process of making hot chocolate again. Again, there was the long wait for the water to boil, again the line of disheveled children shyly holding out their mugs for hot chocolate, then sitting around on the grass happily munching. The child who most tugged at our hearts in Yarccacunca was Nelson. No more than 4 years old, Nelson is the son of an absent father and an alcoholic mother. According to the church leaders and Roberto, he eats, sleeps and goes wherever he wants to, without any kind of supervision. His situation was so sad. We were expecting that there would be considerably fewer people in Yarccacunca, only to find out as we were preparing the chocolate that there were about the same number of people, prompting fear that there would not be enough bread for everyone. We prayed hard and as it turned out, there was just enough bread for everyone and for us as well. Thank you God! We finished up the second chocolatada, packed up all the clothing to leave at the church, ate lunch, and left Yarccacunca to return to Cusco, our load much smaller than when we came. The drive back was quite fun, always keeping our eyes out for children along the road to whom we could give the few extra toys that were left over and the balloon animals that Carrie was twisting in the back seat of the van. Driving back toward Cusco, the sunset was absolutely beautiful - the sky stained pink and orange, surrounded by huge mountains on every side, with some beautiful snow-capped peaks in the distsance. We slowed down to let a llama amble across the road and then to avoid hitting sheep from the flocks that were being driven home by Andean women in their hats, braids, ojotas and brightly-striped q'eperinas (blankets). Finally, we saw the lights of Cusco spread out below us. Then we were driving through Cusco, recognizing the sights. And then we were home. Back to the comforts of the city, to running water in the house, to a warm, soft bed, to a bathroom and a stove that doesn't require firewood. So different from life in the countryside. I had to ask myself "What did we really do?" We fed the tummies of country kids and clothed their bodies. Seems so simple. Yet as I think of that, I have to remember the words of Jesus - "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me." The difference between the city and the country is immense. It was good to get to know a bit of the countryside. I left and came back home, but those in the country...well, that's their life! My prayer is "Lord, don't let me forget and become so surrounded by creature comforts that I lose touch with the reality of what life is really like for so many people." So that was my weekend. Quite full, but quite rewarding. Definitely a good experience. Definitely worth it all.

A Christmas Greeting from my Kids and I

We worked really hard in third and fourth grade the past month or so to learn Luke 2:11-12 in English, in the form of a song. The kids did wonderful in the program! I was so proud of them. So I wanted to put the video on here so you could all see it. Unfortunately, I had difficulty uploading it onto Blogger, so I put it on YouTube. To see the video, please click here and enjoy. Merry Christmas from my students and I!

Doorknobs and gingerbread men: A tale of God's grace

It all started when I decided to do a unit on Christmas around the world. I thought it would be fun to make gingerbread men with both classes. The only problem. We don't have gingerbread man cookie cutters here....that I know of anyway. Problem solved: Moms are wonderful! She told me she'd send me some. So I waited for the package to arrive. For various reasons, it took a while to come. I kept pushing back and pushing back the project. Finally, with 2 weeks left of school, I decided to start the Christmas in the United States week without the cookie cutters, in faith that they would come. And they did - the day before I was going to start making the cookies. In that simple fact alone, I saw God's grace and his care for my kids and for me. It was a good reminder that He cares about the little things I do...even if they don't always seem to me to be that eternally important.
So we started making gingerbread men yesterday. Fourth grade was fine (again I got told that I am more attractive in an apron...weird). But third grade....well, they were third grade. At least Jonatan was his normal self. He decided he wanted to eat something during English class. Which is not allowed, at least in my class. So Sharith decided to take things into her own hands and took his snack away from him. Which got her shoved roughly onto the cement floor by Jonatan. Which made me decide that I needed to take away his privilege of participating in the making of the cookies. Which obviously didn't make him too happy, since he'd been looking forward to making cookies, along with the rest of the class, for several weeks now. So he decided to make life miserable for me and for the rest of the class for the rest of the day. At every possible opportunity, he was trying to snitch pieces of dough from the bowl we were working from. It was very annoying, both for me and for his classmates, who were warning me at every opportunity to watch out for Jonatan. End result: he lost the privilege of participating again today and I called his grandmother, who he lives with, to make her aware of the situation.
This morning I was asking God to give me love in my heart for Jonatan because I wasn't feeling particularly loving towards him today. Only He could have imagined how that prayer would be answered. First of all, Jonatan's dad came today, having heard from the grandmother that there were problems yesterday. So I got to talk to him and explain to him what happened and he heard me and was supportive and concerned about his son - a major blessing. And then for some crazy, unexplained reason, the outside part of the doorknob fell off the third grade door. It's a fairly new doorknob. I don't know what happened. It just fell off! It wasn't a problem, all morning since there was always someone in the room, until all the kids left for recess and the door closed (or did God close it, just to teach me a lesson? Hmmm.....). So there I was...the door closed, I needed to teach fourth grade music class for Ron, who had to go to a meeting today, and I had no idea how I was going to get in the room to work on making gingerbread men with third grade last period. Thankfully, third grade was in gym class, so we didn't have to worry about what was going to happen with them for 45 minutes, while I taught music class. The first thing, however, that came to mind as a possible solution was "Ask Jonatan". This kid loves fixing things. And he's really good at it too. So I called him. He came right away, which in itself amazed me. I told him I had a challenge for him. He took one look at the hole where the doorknob should have been, stuck his fingers in it, and announced that he needed a pliers after gym class. I was wondering if I should trust his judgment. Thankfully, Ron came back right in time to help switch the two classes to where they needed to be (we do gym class at a big covered playing field down the street cause we don't have enough space at the school itself). I explained the situation and said that Jonatan said he'd need a pliers. Ron agreed that would work, if we had one. A scissors was the next best option. So Jonatan stuck the scissors in the hole in the doorknob and wiggled it around for a while. Finally, click, the door popped open and third grade surged inside! Jonatan was an instant celebrity in third grade. It felt good to finally be able to say "Great job Jonatan! I'm so proud of you!" And you could tell he was proud of himself too. He was absolutely beaming.
I still didn't allow him to participate today in the making of the gingerbread men. Consequences are consequences and need to be felt. But I'm planning on him participating tomorrow. He went to work with the psychologist today during English class, at my request. But when he came back and we were still working on the cookies, he was a totally different child from yesterday. He was cooperative, didn't even try to snitch cookie dough, though he had ample opportunity. He was helpful and respectful. He was great!
I'd like to think that maybe God knocked the doorknob off the door to show me His grace. Yesterday I was so frustrated with Jonatan, after a whole year of fighting with him and feeling like he needs things I can't give him, that I was feeling like the next 6 days of school would be torture and I had no desire to teach him next year. But then, God came through today and showed me again that yes, He is there and yes, I can do it with His help. Now, this does not mean I might not ever get frustrated with Jonatan again. The chances of that being the case are slim, considering his track record. But today, in the midst of my own human weakness and lack of grace, God again reminded me of His grace, not only for Jonatan, but for me as well. If I've learned one thing this year as a teacher, it is that God's grace for me is so huge, so endless and so amazing. Seems like every time I need it, I see it pull through for me. Every time I need it, there it is. I stand amazed at it, at God, at His goodness and love for me and for my students.

adventures in cooking

This past weekend, there was a marriage retreat at the San Jeronimo church on Saturday afternoon. Carrie, Shannon and I were asked to make food for the event. Okay, not asked. Volunteered. We weren't that crazy about the idea, but you just do what you're asked to do.
Friday, our friend Marga helped us get massive amounts of chicken breasts, potatoes, carrots, green beans, other assorted vegetables, strawberries, and cake ingredients. Friday afternoon, I came home from school to find 3 people in the house, washing vegetables in dishpans, colanders, containers, whatever - even the mop bucket (disinfected, of course)! After we finished washing just about everything, the water decided to stop flowing from the spigot. This happens regularly at night at our house, usually mostly in the upstairs bathroom. But when we really need water for something, it always seems to turn off during the day too. This time was no exception. There was no water whatsoever anywhere. Yes, we had some buckets full of water awaiting such an occurrence, but, not knowing how long we would be without our water, we didn't want to use too much from them. We had enough water to cover the potatoes so they didn't get brown. And some greasy, nasty dishwater in the sink that we didn't want to let go down the drain, just in case we'd need it for something. And then we set to work, preparing all the vegetables. I went outside with the 25 pounds of green beans and got right down to business, stemming and snapping them. Reminded me of summer in the States. Meanwhile, others were peeling carrots and potatoes. There were various people helping throughout the evening. With all the hands working fast and furiously, we managed to make and bake 6 cakes, peel 50 pounds of potatoes, and peel and cut 50 pounds of green beans and carrots. Oh, and someone managed to drop some mostly still-wet chocolates on the kitchen floor. By the time we stopped laughing and got to cleaning it up, it had hardened on the floor. Without the aid of water, getting it up was, let's just say, difficult. So we cleaned up what we could and left the rest. Coming back into the kitchen before going to bed and seeing it sprawled out there on the floor, I took one look and began laughing. It looked exactly like a cow! In my sleep-deprived mind, it looked quite like a cow had died on our kitchen floor. So I took a whiteboard marker and outlined it so everyone else could see what I was seeing. I think we all got a kick out of the chocolate on the floor. Our kitchen was....well, a bit messy, as you can see. But what can you do when you have no water to wash all the dishes that are generated when cooking for such a massive amount of people? We decided to call it a night around 11 and slept really well!
Thankfully, the water was back on when we woke up on Saturday morning and we were able to wash some of the dishes that had accumulated the night before. Then we set to work again, cutting up onions, strawberries, potatoes, celery, parsley, and oregano and grating cheese, making stuffing, making whipped cream in the mop bucket (please remember it was clean!), filling chicken breasts, seasoning potatoes, and putting everything in baking pans. We ended up with 14 of them till we were done. Where do you bake 14 baking pans full of food? Luckily, if you're in Peru, you likely have a community oven close. Community ovens are a wonderful thing. Since many people don't have ovens in their homes, community ovens are open to anyone. Many people who have them in their houses are bread makers. But they have extra room in their ovens on a regular basis. So people can bring things and they'll bake them for a small fee. You drop them off, come back after a while and voila! You have cooked food! We lugged the 14 baking pans between 5 of us over to the oven, about a block from our house. They easily fit into the oven. Then we called one of the men from the church, who has a taxi, and asked if he could pick us and the food up when we were ready to go out to the church. That detail taken care of, we decided to go out to the church awhile to begin cooking the vegetables. When we got there, we found out that we wouldn't be eating till about an hour later than what we'd thought. So we hung out at the church for about an hour till we had to go pick up the food. Right as we were getting ready to go, it began to rain. Now, around this time of year, often when it rains, it hails. That's just the way the weather is. Yeah, you guessed it. We were running through hail to the bus stop to pick up public transportation to get home to get the food out of the oven. Well, when we got to the bus stop at the bottom of the huge hill on which our house sits, there was no rain. (Not only is rain in Cusco accompanied by hail, it is also very spotty). But till the combi came to pick us up and take us up the hill, it was definitely raining. So we ran up the last bit of hill to our front door in the rain. After changing into dry clothes, we went to the oven with Hermano Satu in his taxi and collected all our various baking pans of chicken and potatoes. Covering them with blankets in the back of the taxi, we headed to the church. In a steady rain, we carried all of the pans to the church kitchen, where we covered them with blankets on the floor till we were ready to serve the food. Hurriedly, we dumped the vegetables in pots so they could boil and be ready by the time everyone was ready to eat. And then it was a mad, scurrying rush of serving and grabbing bites to eat and serving cake. And then it was time to clean up and wash all the dishes, which took us far into the night. Around 10:15, David came back with the church combi from taking the people from Huacarpay and Lucre back to their homes. We loaded in, all our dirty baking pans in tow to wash at home in the morning. We got home around 10:45, tired, with the feeling of having done our job pretty well and now wanting to get some shut-eye! Carrie (my roommate) declared quite emphatically that it will be a while before she cooks for that many people again. It was quite the adventure and tired us all out. It was fun, in a way, but I'm glad I don't have to do it every day. It was, however, a good roommate bonding experience. :)

Moments of Merriment and Mirth with a Mexican Christmas

Okay, I'll admit it. There are sometimes that I just want to laugh at my students. Today there were several of them in third grade. First of all, let me back up and say that we are studying Christmas around the world in both third and fourth grades right now. Last week, we spent the week in Sweden learning about St. Lucia's Day and Tomte (the Swedish Santa Claus) and their Christmas trees with edible decorations. We did several exciting projects. This week we're in Mexico learning about Las Posadas and manger scenes and how Mexican children put their shoes out so that the 3 kings can put gifts in them (I think my kids were somewhat grossed out by that little tidbit of information!). Today in fourth grade, we made a yummy Mexican dessert called Merengon. In third grade we're making piñatas out of balloons, newspaper and toilet paper. And of course paste. Lots and lots of paste. It wasn't a problem on my kitchen table...honest!
And then I took paste into third grade yesterday. Lucky for me, it's just flour and water...not a bad combination. Being the adult, orderly by nature, in my first year of teaching, never having done this with 20 kids in my charge before, it never occurred to me to have the kids bring in an old shirt or something they could use to cover themselves. The result of that was that yesterday, I had 20 kids covered in varying degrees by flour-water paste and a bunch washing out their uniform jackets during recess (the difference between American kids and Peruvian kids is that many Peruvian kids are used to washing clothes by hand). Let me just put a disclaimer on this: doing laundry during recess was completely their idea and was not provoked in any way by their English teacher. So I decided I'd get smart and tell the kids to bring in an old shirt today, for everyone's peace of mind. Well, anyone who's ever worked with kids knows how reliable their memories can be when you don't want them to be and how unreliable they can be when you want them to remember something. The end result of my announcement was about 5-7 old shirts appearing today. The rest of the kids somehow magically remembered when they walked in the school door today. Thus, I was barraged with numerous pronouncements of "Profe, I didn't bring my old shirt". I was contenting myself with just telling them "Then you'll have to be really careful not to get paste on you".
They, however, must not have been content with that (or else they didn't want to wash their uniforms by hand again). I must explain that I had given each one of them a plastic grocery bag with their name on it yesterday on which to lay their piñata as it was drying. When they came in from gym class, their piñatas were on their desks and their grocery bags were lying along the walls of the classroom so they could again place their sticky piñatas on them overnight. Jonatan was the first one to get the brilliant idea. He came up to me with his grocery bag on like an apron and said "Profe, can you tie this for me?" I marveled at his creativity. It took all of about 5 seconds for his idea to spread like wildfire through the entire class. Thus, while several were donning old shirts, numerous others were coming up to me saying "Profe, can you tie this?" Grocery bags, however, unfortunately, have an opening smaller than the waist size of your average Peruvian third grader, causing problems. And then Isaac came up with another brilliant idea. He stepped through the bottom of his grocery bag, pulling it up like a bathing suit, and putting the handles over his shoulders like straps. In the end, this (or variations of it) proved to be by far the most popular design. It didn't take long for me to have virtually 20 third graders decked out in the latest grocery bag fashions. In the midst of the madness, Ron entered to collect library books. Through the myriad rustle of plastic bags, I called "I have a class of artistic geniuses!" He looked at them, in various stages of plasticating themselves, and said "This was their idea?" I assured him I had had absolutely nothing to do with it, to which he laughed and replied "I need to get the camera!" Luckily I had mine too.
I had another interesting thing happen in third grade today - funny, yet thought-provoking too. I decided that since I'd gotten paste on myself as well (funny how that happens when you're working with kids but not when you're doing it by yourself at home...), I'd bring an apron today. So I brought this very old and thin Peruvian style apron that we have at home. I felt a little funny with it on, since I'm not accustomed to wearing aprons of any style - Peruvian or American. (Peruvian aprons, just for the record, cover the front and back and tie on the sides. In the front they have several big pockets. Most more traditional women wear them often. And I think pretty much anyone who sells in the market wears one.) The kids were at gym class when I put it on. When they came back, I met some of them in the hallway to tell them to enter the class calmly and orderly so we could get started right away on our project. Isaac ran up to me, gave me a hug and said "Profe, you look beautiful!" Later, Shally said the same thing. The only thing I can figure out is that this was the first time they'd seen me looking more Peruvian and they liked it! As I was working on putting on plastic bag aprons in the classroom Miriam came in. She came right up to me and, pretending I was a vendor in the market, asked "Do you have any tomatoes?" I played along "6 soles a kilo", I told her. "Do you have change for a 10?" she wondered. Then she wondered if I had potatoes. I told her I didn't. It was a strange, amazing and funny phenomenon all at the same time, how my kids reacted to me in the apron. I'll have to do further experiments with the apron in the future. I'm curious now. (Plus, it has nice big pockets which really come in handy as a teacher!)
Sometimes I just want to laugh. And now that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have a class full of artistic geniuses, I wonder how I can incorporate more artistic aspects into the class, especially in learning grammar.
The pictures are, from top to bottom: Isaac in his bag, Alejandra, Diana and Miriam in their bags, Bethany, Alejandra, Miriam, Yuli and Dany in their bags, Dany in his bag, Stefany and Saraí in their bags.

And so we are coming to the end...

The end is in sight. Not that I am desperately awaiting its arrival, but I can't help but realize that the school year is winding down. I have now handed in my last month planning and we are in the middle of our last unit both in third and fourth grades. It's a longer unit, since it covers the last 6 weeks of the school year instead of the normal 4-week units. And I decided to take advantage of everything that the kids are supposed to learn and make them into 2 units about Christmas around the world. Fourth grade's focus is food and third grade's focus is...well, varied. It includes meeting people, having sensory experiences, etc... We're doing a lot of craft-type projects, which the kids love. And when the kids love what they're doing, they behave better. Which makes me happier too. The rule of thumb that applies to moms also applies to teachers, I think. "When the teacher ain't happy, ain't nobody happy". So far at least, I think we'll end the year on a good note in both classes.
I'm teaching all my students a song that I learned as a child from a tape of Scripture verses in song that we had. It comes from Luke 2:11, 12: "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: you will find the baby wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger." The kids seem to be enjoying it. We've talked about what the words mean, but I really want to get to what the heart of the verse means as well. Jesus the Savior was born for us. He was born humbly. He was born as the promised one sent from God for us. I was very excited the other week when I introduced the verse to my fourth graders. I was telling them that this was the last verse and the last unit for the year. Ronaldo burst out "Awwwww.....this is the last verse?" He's always the first one to wonder when we're going to change the verse (which we do every month), so I've always thought that he didn't really enjoy them. But the disappointment in his voice and the fact that, when I asked him, he told me he wanted more verses, told me otherwise. It was good encouragement to keep going.
And then last week the first graders did a chapel for the whole school based on the armor of God. Over the summer, we worked for several months learning that passage in fourth grade. Since it was so long, we put motions to it and everything. So I decided to do a little review with them after chapel. We went through the entire verse and most of the kids seemed to remember it well. I was very impressed.
This past week we studied Sweden. Fourth grade made St. Lucia buns and third grade made a St. Lucia crown of candles out of paper plates and construction paper. I'll have to put pictures on here. There are definite maturity differences between the two classes (beyond just the fact that one is third grade and the other is fourth). Fourth grade has a much longer attention span, so they caught a lot more of what I was telling them. Next up is Mexico. Should be interesting.
It's been a good last few weeks. Yes, they've had their challenges, but things have been going much better lately than they were during the summer. I'm learning a lot. Teaching is definitely a very complex and delicate process. And it all seems to happen at 80 miles an hour.
5 weeks left. 5 busy weeks. 5 short weeks. 5 weeks of teaching and learning. It's hard to believe. The year has gone so fast. I can definitely feel God's help in so many ways. And yes, I can most DEFINITELY feel the prayers of so many people. Thank you! Here's to the final weeks of the school year.