El Día del Padre

If you think it's strange that we celebrate Father's Day at an orphanage, well...you're not the only one. I was anti-this celebration from the get-go. It seemed like another time-wasting event that might also manage to really upset the children. On top of that, we spent hours and hours creating intricate centerpieces and decorations. We also had to prepare a presentation for the assembly. I somehow managed to end up in charge of this. It would have been fine but, of course, we were doing everything at the last possible moment. The other teachers literally changed their minds FIVE times about whether they wanted a play or a dance. If I'm going to be in charge of something, I want it to look good, and I didn't feel like I could under the circumstances and ended up in tears. One of the other teachers ended up helping me with a little play about an embarrassing dad. Today was the big day, and I'm surprised and pleased to say how much I actually enjoyed it. All the male figures on the Ranch (directors, tíos, teachers, staff) showed up for an assembly in their honor. Our little play went just great even though it was hard to hear the kids (I did the narration). The most important people up front understood it. My favorite part was when they lined up all the honorees and all the kids passed through the line to hug and thank them. I took my little Nataly up with me. We had recess until the kids left at noon, and I got to just play with the kids, which was so refreshing. After cleaning the classroon as per usual, we went to enjoy a special lunch with the "dads." It was great to relax, laugh, and shoot the breeze with the rest of the staff, especially the Montessori girls. I hadn't talked to Momo about the fact that I'd decided not to stay another year, but she mentioned to someone that she didn't want to let me go and they'd be heartbroken, but that there would always be a place for me there. I've been having a hard time, and that was what I needed to hear. And it also felt good to honor some really important people on the Ranch for all they do to fill the father role for these children. Perhaps I should work on being more optimistic in general.

Volunteer Housing AKA Musical Chairs

You may remember from an earlier blog that before I came home for a visit, I had to pack up all my belongings to be moved while I was gone. I feel the need to elaborate on the theme. San Vicente (Casa Personal) was in need of some serious remodeling. All the wood had to be ripped out because it was moldy and disgusting and the roof was structurally unsound. They started work on my hallway in January. When I came back, five of us were living in Casita Buen Pastor by where the tíos live. Tiffany, Patricia, and Sona were in one bedroom with three beds, and Leila and I shared the master bedroom with one queen size bed. When Leila left, I had a room, bathroom, and closet to myself. I would have preferred to have Leila stay, but I wasn’t about to complain about having my own room. The casita has its own kitchen and common area, which made it really fun to have visitors. I loved living with those girls, the remaining ones from my original volunteer group. We were supposed to move back to San Vicente when the rooms were ready, and I was going to get to have my own room since there was one extra space (the volunteer coordinator Lauren was moving to another building) and I’m the veteran. Well, we got the call today that EVERYONE had to move…except me. We four girls wanted to stay here in the casita, but that was not to be. Lauren’s new room was taken by a nun who has come to live on the Ranch. So, Tiff, Patri, and Sona moved into the newly renovated rooms. They are quite lovely, but they lack any sort of shelving as well as a door to the bathroom because apparently the money ran out. Mmhmm. Lauren is moving in with me, and two of the new volunteers DeeDee and Micaela are moving into the other room in the casita. Supposedly the rooms in the other hallway will be done in 2-3 weeks (why do I doubt that?), and Lauren and I will move into her old room. At least I’ll have hot water, but possibly nowhere to put my things. Trying not to complain too much because the rooms are really nice. And the poor new volunteers are finally getting to move after being in the dorms at the far end of San Vicente for way too long. But it’s hard to feel settled when you have to move cada rato and things change at the drop of a hat.

Being Asian in Honduras

Means…

You are Chinese. Even when you thoughtfully explain that your biological father was born in Vietnam and your mom is a gringa, you are misunderstood. When you further explain that Vietnam is a country to the south of China, it is then assumed that you are in fact Japanese.

To get your attention on the streets of Tegucigalpa, people yell “china” (Chinese girl).

Your closest Honduran friends lovingly refer to you as “chinita” (little Chinese girl).

When they see the scene where the Chinese girl dances in the latest Karate Kid movie, all the girls scream your name.

Children ask you if you can do karate and tell you to put your hair in a bun “like they do in your country.”

Adults ask you if you are related to Bruce Lee. You say no, you are related to Jackie Chan.

You start to make off-color racial jokes because it is so normal here (see above).

When you are making a sample coat of arms for the first grade “Who am I?” unit and you draw in one of the squares what you want to be (in my case, a mom), your teaching partner edits the drawing of you and your baby so that they have slanty eyes. Seriously.

You despair when one of the abuelitas tells you that you must not be from the United States because you look different. You then have a little personal celebration when she says you don’t look Chinese, but CATRACHA!!!

Finally...

a good day at school. It’s been a rough first 18 days, let me tell you. Between the two of us, Kenia and I have 12 first graders, but it feels like a lot more. They have really been pushing me. I’ve never been around kids who just don’t listen and whose immediate reaction to direction is to say “no.” Maybe the dance team girls. ;) And between sharing a classroom and the constraints of the system and the culture, I sometimes find it difficult to work my magic, if you will. But I’m doing what I know to be best practice, and I’m seeing results. I’m giving choices (thank you, Donna Egge and Love and Logic and MOM): You can play now and work during recess or work now and play during recess. I'm taking away privileges when they are disrespectful, whether that is going to a special class or the right to be in the classroom itself. I’m using humor. I literally sat on a kid until he stopped saying no. Hmph…try that in the United States! I’m using wait time. That sometimes means we sit in the ellipse for a really long time. I’m using discipline based in love and relationship. We had our first art class with Dorie today, and I heard Cathy Crossen in my ear and decided to do the project with the kids. I’m giving hugs and kisses because I can and because these kids need it. Momo came up to me and thanked me for backing her up during a pedagogical discussion with the other teachers. Those who have been in my classroom know that I have always placed more importance on content than presentation. And that is so not Honduras. I just don’t think a first grader should have to redo his science classwork five times to make sure the spelling and handwriting are perfect, and Momo is with me on that. But it’s hard to convince people who were educated in such a different way. Sorry I haven’t written in a long time. I’d been feeling pretty down and wanted to wait until I had something good to say. And now I do.

Fumigation

I feel the need to describe this most odd of experiences. Everyone once in awhile, all the hogars need to be sprayed for bugs and undesirable creatures. This means that all the kids must vacate for an entire day and night. Casa Suyapa (little kids) sleeps in the building adjacent to the church, Buen Pastor (boys) sleeps in the school, and Talita Kumi (girls) sleeps in talleres (the workshops). The younger girls were in classrooms, but the older girls had to sleep in the auditorium. They all spent Friday night packing up their lockers and shoving everything into the middle of the room. Saturday morning, they brought their overnight stuff down to talleres. Metal benches were pushed together and beds set up on top of them to create a sea of humanity, mattresses, blankets, sheets, and pillows. We worked raking in the the morning and then after mass, the tias set up a TV and DVD player so we could watch movies. Dinner was unusually delicious, with my favorite piping hot sweet milk (lactose intolerant, schmatose intolerant). After watching Mannequin (one of my favorite movies growing up - hooray for the 80s), I curled up with Deisy for the worst night's sleep I've had since I got here. It was cold and terribly uncomfortable, but I wouldn't have traded the experience. I love being able to be in solidarity with my girls. That said, I hope it doesn't happen again in the next 5 months!

Mis Hijas

Things are settling down, and I’m getting back into a routine, which is always good for me. And the best part of coming home after a long, hard day is going to spend time with my hogar daughters. I love to do things for them, whether it’s baking them a birthday cake, making them valentines, or lending out my nail polish. They are always so appreciative and do so much for me in return. They were so excited when I showed up in my first pair of skinny jeans the other day. Just about everyone told me how guapa I looked and congratulated me on being more gordita as well. Nuvia insisted on taking a pair of my regular jeans and making them skinny jeans in the sewing taller, and they fit me perfectly! Then there is Estefany, who is my go-to person for a good hug, kiss, and “I love you.” We bonded as tías during Christmas and have been even closer since I took her to the clinic with a serious injury and held her hand as they bandaged her up. I love those moments when I get to feel like a mom. Saravia is the one who keeps me sane, most recently by scrounging me up some delicious food on sopa de menudo (chicken foot soup) night. Kerberling is doing her year of service in Montessori and is newly excited to see me every morning. She made my day when she told me that it’s not just any volunteer that is accepted by the girls and that they trust me and feel like I understand them. Sheila is always game for an impromptu dance or karaoke party and brightens the room with her infectious laugh. She’s also mastered ye olde, “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” There have been changes in the hogar, but thanks to cell phones, I’m getting sweet little text messages and occasionally even phone calls from my girls outside the Ranch. And the newbies are all girls I know from Inmaculada and all accept my goodnight hugs. Even though that 6:00-8:00 p.m. window is part of my required time, I glad to say it doesn’t usually feel like work. And to think that when I got here, I was adamant about wanting a boys hogar. When we did our rotation, I didn’t even visit Pilares. Now, I can’t imagine my life here without them. Sometimes things really do work out for the best.

Changes

I'm experiencing a lot of them, and we all know how well I do with those. Things at the Ranch were absolutely crazy following the end of the school year, with major emotional ups and downs. But I was feeling important and needed and getting the praise I so much need. When I was at home, I couldn't wait to get back. And now that I'm here, things just feel...strange. I got lice, had a big disagreement with someone, experienced a loss, and got stolen from. On top of that, I was taking some time to relax and just going to hogar and planning Visitor Day for the kids without visitors, and I don't do well without enough to do. I know I deserved the break and had been given it by my boss, but somehow I ended up feeling guilty. We're getting ready to start the school year and I'm feeling disenchanted. I forgot how much cleaning up of mouse and cockroach poop it involves. I'm ready to just get back into my old routine, but it's just not quite right with old volunteers leaving and new ones here. All the employees who have been gone for two months are back at work. I'm living away from Casa Personal because of the remodel. And my hogar is changing, which I hate. Three girls went off to high school, two are working in Tegus in Casa Angeles, half will probably pass to the next hogar, and most are doing their year of service so that I hardly see them. There have been bright moments: Gabi falling asleep on my lap and carrying her across the Ranch to put her to bed; playing with our consentidos in the baby house with Saravia; a gift of a blanket from Magda who is leaving for Choluteca so I never forget her. In those moments, I don't know how I could ever leave. And other days, I don't know how I'll make it six more months.