A few stories thus far...

After my arrival to Costa Rica on January 7, I lived in a small town located about an hour and a half southwest of San Jose called Orosi.  Orosi is where the WorldTeach orientation took place.  My days were filled with spanish classes, teaching workshops, and town social events.  After two weeks of orientation it was time to go visit the town where I would be teaching for the rest of the year, El Vergel.     

Visit to My Site...

One of the other WT volunteers, Jeremy Mann, and I caught a bus out of SJ early Saturday morning headed for la zona sur.  The ride to the zona sur was absolutely amazing.  The interamerica highway winds its way through dense jungle, up and down steep mountains, and over raging rivers.  We were blown away by how beautiful it was.  We saw a countless number of of birds, 20 different waterfalls, and some of the most breathtaking views I had ever seen.     

After five and a half hours bird watching and snapping photos I found myself saying goodbye to Jeremy on the side of the interamericana and realizing that I was, for the first time, completely alone in Costa Rica.  The fifteen minutes it takes to get from Rey Curre (Jeremy’s site) to El Vergel seemed like a hours.  There were so many questions and concerns running through my head. Was my family going to like me?  Was I going to be able to live in a village of 100 people after having lived in LA most of my life?  Could I cope with the heat, mosquitoes, and wild animals? 

I got dropped off on the side of the highway and pulled my bags out from the compartment under the bus. As the bus pulled away I saw three little smiling kids emerged from the other side of the highway.  I walked over to them and said “Hi my name is John... Im the new english teacher”.  From the way they were looking at me I could tell they already knew who I was.  One of the little girls quickly grabbed my hand and started to walk me towards, what I hoped, was my house.  I asked what her name was.  She looked up at me and through a toothless grin she said “Abigail”.  I recognized the name immediately.  I had read all about her in packet of information given to me by the previous teacher in El Vergel.  Abigail was the daughter of my host sister Evelyn as well as one of my smartest second graders. The excitement and kindness of this pretty little girl eased many of the fears I had felt while on the bus.  

She brought me to my house where I met the rest of the family.  They were all very nice however not extremely talkative.  After a brief introduction with the family my host mother Eliza took me on a tour of the town.  She took me to her mothers house where I met some of the extended family, then to my school and classroom.  My classroom was almost exactly what I  was expecting it to be, an open-air shack with a chalk board and a few desks.  I was most impressed by the view from my class.  It has by far the best view of all the other classrooms.  It overlooks the town plaza and river, with jungle-covered mountains off in the distance. It is beautiful.  

The rest of the day was spent in the swimming in the river with the family.  They were all really impressed that I was able to swim to the other side of the river (only about 150 yards) without drowning.  I think swimming classes are going to have to be one of my projects for this year.  Almost nobody in El Vergel knows how to swim, not even the adults. The town has such an awesome resource literally in their backyard almost no one uses it.  

EI Vergel was almost exactly what I was expecting it to be. I knew it was going to be small but I was a little bit freaked out about how small it really was. Only about 10-12 houses.  They say there are about 100 people, however I think there are actually less.  

The trip was short. I woke up early the next day, said goodbye to the family and jumped on a bus going to San Jose.  Fifteen minutes up the road the bus picked up Jeremy. We shared stories about our visits almost the whole way, still blown away by what was going by the window.  The trip defiantly put into perspective exactly what we would be doing this year and what our lifestyles were going to be like.  We arrived in Orosi just as the sun was setting and defiantly happy to be back with our gringo friends.             

         

The First Day of School...

The first day of school I woke up early allowing my self enough time to shower, eat breakfast, and make the 30 second commute to school.  I arrived at my classroom 15 minutes early in order to make any last minute preparations.  Around 7 o'clock I approached my director to see which grade I would be teaching.  She said first we were going to have a meeting with all the parents and students.  So we all went into the comedor, Dona Eiza (the director) talked for about 20 minutes.  I tried my best to understand what she was saying but i think I only got about 60% of it.  I did however understand when she handed me the micophone and said, “te toca John” (your turn John). I said “what!!??”.  I had no idea I was going to have to say anything and was completely caught off guard.  So I stood in-front of the audience for a few silent seconds, contemplating what I was going to say, then began to talk.  I was so nervous, the worlds didn’t come out clear at all.  I don’t think anyone understood a word of my broken spanish.  However a few of the mothers gave me polite smiles and a small applause. 

When the meeting ended, Directora Eliza announced that the second graders were to go to English class.  So each of the eight second graders  grabbed a piece of one of my limps (head included) and dragged me to my classroom, each of them screaming "Tichar Tichar" the whole way.  The plan was to implement my strict discipline policy right off the bat, then do some basic diagnostic games/tests to see what the kids remembered after their summer vacation.  None of this happened.  First, I wrote all the classroom rules on the board and told the students to copy them down in their notebooks.  And this was about as far as we got.  I seriously overestimated their ability to function in the classroom.  After 20 minutes of copying only 1 of them had finished the four sentences I had on the board. I spent most of the time trying to get the kids to just sit still and concentrate.  I don’t think I have ever seen a group of kids so hyper. Ever.  I’m pretty sure the eight cups of coffee they drank that morning, as well as the huge bag of candy handed out to each of them upon arrival didn’t help either.  They might as well have given crack.  Luckily, the director came to my rescue.  She poked her head into the room and asked if we wanted to play a game with her and some of the older students. The room erupted into screams of SIIII!!!! It was obvious they wanted to play.  However, I think I wanted to get out of there more than they did.  So we played "hot potato" in the yard until breakfast.  After breakfast I was given another class.  I didn’t even try to do work.  We played “uno” until it was time to leave.      

 

Pobre Garfield 

This morning I woke up at my usual time (6am), rolled out of bed, and stumbled into the kitchen to get some coffee.  Upon arrived I was surprised to find Quito and Wainner (my host brother and host cousin, both 8ys old) already dressed in their school uniforms, standing on a chair, and holding our cat Garfield upside-down in the air.  I quickly asked what they were doing.  They said "John mira mira"  then they dropped, the still half-asleep Garfield, from five feet thinking he would land safely on his feet like cats are supposed to.  Garfield did not land on his feet. He landed right on his back. He let out and great MEEEOOOWWW, then quickly ran out the door into the safety of the yard.  Quito and Wainner erupted into laughter, they thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen!  I tried to explain to them that it wasn't a good idea to play with the cat like that and that they could hurt Garfield if they dropped him from so high, but I could hardly get a sentence out.  I was laughing too hard also. 

Sometimes I feel like garfield. The other day I was playing a harmless game of “duck duck goose” on the plaza with my first grade class.  One of my more hyperactive students, Daniela, was “it”. She walked around the circle patting everyones head saying “dog...dog...dog” (the first graders cant say duck yet). Then she arrived at my head. She didn’t give me a light pat and say “dog”.  Instead she grabbed my hair with both hands, gave it a hard pull and screamed “COLOCHOS!!!” (Curls).  The rest of the class thought it was hilarious when I cried out in pain. The next thing I knew the entire class was on top of me and each one had a handful of my hair.  The chubby kid in my class, Steven, jumped right no my face.  At this point, no joke, thought I was going to die.  I couldn’t breath and there were twelve 5 year-olds on top of me.  I pictured my host mother having calling the WorldTeach office and explaining to them how one of their volunteers was trampled to death by a bunch of first graders.  I took all my strength to get them off of me.                  

Is it bad that the kids are already driving me crazy?  I hope not. I hope its normal for adults to be annoyed by little kids some of the time.  There is just no escaping them.  I would be fine if I only had to be with them for half a day while Im at school, but two live in my house and there are another 12 or so nearby. They are always jumping on me, putting bugs in my face, or asking me questions.  I know they are just kids, but sometimes I need a break.   

At sunset the other day I went down to one of my favorite spots. A tire overlooking the river. I wanted to enjoy the last 10 pages of my book in silence.  I got through maybe a page and half before my 10 year old sister came running over wondering what I was doing. At that point I knew the book was a lost cause, gave it up, and started to play with her.      

I need to find a place I can escape to.  My room is too hot. The river is too close.  Maybe next time ill see where Garfield runs to after the kids torture him.   Better yet, maybe Ill go to the school.  I know when I was a little kid that was the last place I wanted to be.