home at last.

I've already been back in Indiana for two weeks, and it feels all too normal. The year behind me already feels like a whirlwind passed. I'm still somewhat in shock at how slowly it seemed to crawl by yet how quickly it now seems to have passed.

Hands down, I miss my kids more than anything. But home feels so good. I have experienced little to no reverse culture shock in this transition, which is somehow surprising as well as expected. I think I envisioned and longed to come home so badly that I somehow surpassed the shock. I go back and forth between how wonderful home is and this gaping hole I now find in the pit of my heart. I'm so happy, but I miss them so much it hurts.

I had requested to our church's music director that we sing a Brooklyn Tabernacle song on my first Sunday home, and I was excited to worship with church family, but when my request was granted, I found myself fighting back tears because I had taught "Days of Elijah" to my class. They loved that song, and I loved hearing and watching them sing it, and in those moments that we sang together at church, I was flooded with the memory of my beloved students.

My time with them already feels like a fleeting memory, and I'm so desperate to remember everything and forget nothing. I know I will never forget them, not one, but I'm so scared that just as all other moments in life, the memory of them will begin to fade and become more dim with time. I can only pray that it doesn't.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my journeys. Thank you for learning my kids through my eyes and loving them in any kind of capacity.

This concludes my writings about my year teaching, living, and loving in Honduras.

a difficult goodbye.

In my mind there is a jumbled confusion that spans between the time when I committed to come here and now. My feelings then of ignorant excitement and exuberance in the spring of 2009, rejoicing and squealing on my college campus about my near future, don't compare to what I'm feeling now: exhaustion, frustration, sadness, love, nostalgia, regret, disappointment, relief.

Never have I been so tired. I'm exhausted. My job became increasingly exhausting up until the last day. So much emotion wears one down. I'm sure I've aged more than I should have in the past year.

I've never felt more frustrated with an organization as a whole, especially one that bears the name of Christ. Unnecessarily exerting authority, mistreating employees and parents based on gender, economical status, and false pretenses, and lying to students in order to provoke certain behaviors are not actions that imitate those of Christ.

Harder than anything I've faced this year, or at any point in this life, however, was goodbye to my fourth graders. I've never been so desperate to cherish the last moments, memorize the warmth of their hugs, burn the image of their faces into my mind, remember each of their laughs, or desperately show them, if I had failed at some point, just how much I love them. I've never loved other people in this capacity or to this extent or with this much depth, and I've never been so utterly heart-broken. These children are so precious to me, and it pierces the heart when tears roll down their faces, and they fall into your arms. I could feel their heaving sobs, and all I could return were tears. There was no consolation in those last desperate embraces.

Approaching the end of this year, my anxiousness to return home far exceeded my sadness in leaving, but that no longer holds true. Saying goodbye is so hard. I think a good measure of love is the difficulty of the goodbye the ensues.

joke.

My student's father told me a joke yesterday:

"St. Peter was at the gate of heaven monitoring who entered and who was cast into hell. On one table there was a Bible and on another table there was money. He who chose the Bible was admitted into heaven, and he who chose the money was sent to hell.

"A man approached and chose the Bible, and St. Peter opened the gate to him and said, 'Welcome to heaven!' A second man came and took the money, so he was sent to hell. A third man approached, and after taking a look at the two tables, he reached out both his arms and grabbed both the Bible and the money.

"St. Peter wasn't sure what to do with this man, so he called God. 'God, there is a man here that took both the Bible and the money. What should I do with him?'

"God replied, 'Oh, that's Pastor Evelio. Cast him into hell.'"

Pastor Evelio Reyes is the founder of the school for which I worked this year, Vida Abundante.

never has the end been so bittersweet.

I love my kids. So much.

Laura Beth worked for weeks with the kids on goodbye songs for the 1st through 5th grade teachers. My "surprise" was yesterday. I was doing all right during the song about "forever friends" until I looked over and saw Irma in tears. Then they started streaming down my cheeks, and within seconds, I saw Lesly and Ana and half the class crying.

Saying goodbye to the school will be so easy. I'll laugh in utter happiness at the thought of never seeing Mr. Calderon's face again.

But those children have burrowed their way so deep into my heart that I can hardly maintain composure just at the thought of not seeing their ornery faces every week. I can't believe we've spent an entire school year together, and all that's left is one week to say goodbye.

Coming home has never been so appealing. But leaving has never been so hard.

my parents are here!

Darrel, Barb, and Maria came to visit! It's so refreshing to have my parents around and a change of pace. I am so looking forward to going home (less than 12 days now).

Mom and Dad enjoyed what Gracias had to offer. They loved my kids (Who couldn't really?), and now we're at the ruins checking out one of the coolest parts of this country.

nearing the end.

My kids recently realized that school was nearing an end. Only because I told them. They seem to only have a developing concept of time, so I thought I'd help them along so that it didn't hit them too hard. Shortly after their realization and excitement that a long vacation was in sight, they realized that the end of school meant the end our face-to-face relationship.

I've been receiving extra long hugs lately. Today from Fátima, Maria José, and Jasson. And I found Maria José crying while everyone else was playing checkers and Hungry Hungry Hippos. When I asked her what was wrong, she said, "I no want you to go to da United States."

I have a feeling these next few weeks are only going to get harder.

my kids are beautiful.

Ana Maria:
Sarahí:

Maria José:
Marvin:
Kimberly:
Miguel:
Lesly, Paola, Kimberly, & Jasson:
Paola:
Deyssi:
Mario:
Lesly:
Fátima:
Héctor José:
Lorean:
Edgar:
Tito:
Fausto & Jonathan:
Levi:
Irma:
Manuel:
Fausto:
Maylim:
Oscar:

closer to home.

The school bought me a plane ticket, and I'm coming home. I'm so happy about that. Twenty more days of school. Only four weeks. And it's all over. I will be so sad to say goodbye to my kids, but my anxiousness and excitement to return home currently far exceed my departing sadness.

I wish you could understand how beautiful it sounds to do my laundry in a washer and dryer. I'll do laundry all day. And my hands won't go raw from scrubbing in cold water (Not that I did that all year. It only took a couple times before I started paying a muchacha to do it for me.). And my clothes will be warm and smell wonderful when I pull them out of the dryer. And they'll be really clean.

I'll go to church. And feel at home. I'll sleep in my bed, and bugs won't bite me in the night. I'll drink tap water, and I'll drive a car. I'll call my friends, and I won't lose signal. I'll walk around barefoot, and I won't step on a dead moth. I'll hug my mom and nuzzle my puppies and kiss my dad on the cheek, and I won't be sick from the ever changing mood swings of the climate. And the list goes on and on and on.

I've never been happier to be coming home.

six more weeks.

I've been ready to come home for a while now. The thought of leaving Gracias is bittersweet, but for the most part it is a relieving thought.

The truth about my time at Abundant Life Christian School is summed up in frustration and disappointment. That is, outside my classroom. My kids have been amazing, and I'm so grateful to have spent this past year with them, and I'm going to miss them so much it already hurts. What I speak of is the school itself. My intention in expressing my disappointment and frustration is not to publicly berate ALCS (I'll save that for my personal journal.) but to be honest in my experience.

I think I can justifiably say that Abundant Life does not like me. I have felt singled out by my principal this entire year. There was a point where he was calling me into his office weekly for about six weeks to inform me of everything I was doing wrong in my job, even though I often assured him that many of the things he was asking of me, I was already doing. Sometimes I would walk out of our meetings with tears streaming down my face. It turns out he makes up rules (pointless and sometimes ridiculous rules, I should say) on the spot and leaves little room for suggestions and negotiations.

The school and the organization that it comes out of are nothing like I expected them to be. They bear the name Christian, but business and pleasing their clients (the parents) are their priorities. They put on flashy events, portray excellence, and ask us to give the students high marks so that the parents "understand." And when they ask us to work overtime with no extra pay, they remind us that what we're doing is a ministry and a service to God. "God will reward you" - I think that's one of my boss's favorite things to repeat. It might also be worth mentioning that the founder of the church and the school has his named graffitied across the wall of Gracias' cemetery in a statement that claims he has already secured his place in hell.

This year has been amazing and challenging. But it has been hard. Now, understand something please. A hard year for me is probably not considered hard on the grand scale of things. I had been lucky enough in my 23 years prior to moving to Honduras never to grieve the loss of a loved one or experience true hardship. So it was difficult when my grandfather passed away in October. Shortly thereafter I received the news that my cousin, who is also one of my best friends, had experienced congestive heart failure (I'm still praising God that she received a new heart not even a couple weeks ago.).

So with the combination of opposition from work, tragedy back home in the States, and myriad other things (i.e. lack of a church family and a church to attend, repeat sickness including pneumonia and bronchitis and what seemed to be a perpetual cold, and missing my dear friends), that's why I say this year has been harder than others.

fitzgerald.

The girls and I got a puppy. Named him Fitzgerald. He chews on everything.

science project.

We just finished a chapter on oceanography, so for a science project, the kids profiled different sea animals.

no, not a plane crash.

It turns out that a plane did not crash into the mountain. Thankfully. What we heard and felt was the sonic boom of the space shuttle Endeavor on its way to Cape Canaveral. And what I saw was clearly the path of the shuttle. Now I can rest easy.

update on marvin.

Since I've created a special chart for Marvin, his attitude and his behavior have improved. Some days he does really well, but others he still can't hold it together enough to get by without punishment. He hasn't gone to the office since our little crisis a few weeks back, so I suppose that is proof of improvement. I'm hoping for improvement on a grander scale. This will be the fourth week with the behavior chart and hopefully the first week he can receive a prize (a Hot Wheels car).

So here's his chart that he relentlessly refers to as his "shart" even though I correct him every single time, "Ch-ch-chart!"

plane crash?

I was standing outside on the phone tonight. The sky was clear and I was admiring the stars. In the next instant, I looked up and saw a huge white line cutting the sky in half. It looked like a jet stream, but it was closer than I had ever seen one before. It was there, bright and white, and within minutes it was gone.

Then, moments later, I heard what sounded like an explosion not too far away in the mountains. I felt it too. The ground shook, and my house shook. It freaked me out. I immediately got off the phone and had a mini freakout with Jacki. We concluded that a plane crashed into the mountain. It still has me shaken as I try to go to sleep tonight.

What is also unsettling is that I'm fairly certain I won't be able to find any news about this tomorrow or any time soon.

lately.

I had my second round of report cards and parent-teacher conferences at school. Thankfully, my parents were happier this time around. Many of my kids have improved their grades since the first quarter, so I had some happy moms and dads. Miguel's mom was so happy that it brought tears to her eyes. I've implemented behavior charts for Levi and Marvin, and their parents seemed happy with the results from those.

Ana Maria and Lorean have been sick and absent from school for at least a week now. The principals tell me that Ana has hepatitis and Lorean has dengue fever. Both of these are pretty serious, so I'm hoping and praying that they will recover quickly.

Life here has become pretty routine. Not much exciting happens. Although the other day I was sitting incorrectly in one of the kids chairs (my butt on the desk and feet on the seat), and the imbalance of weight caused me to topple over in front of my class. I somehow landed on my feet but ended up with a bruise on the back of my leg. The kids were stuck somewhere between shock and laughter as I promptly continued to conduct class.

For the first time this week, I was the teacher responsible for a student receiving demerits. I didn't feel too great as I signed the paper that was to be sent home to Jasson's parents, because he sat there and cried. Receiving demerits devastates the students. I don't see that I have another choice, however, when I can't control a certain behavior.

100th day.

Monday was our 100th day of school. The kids didn't really understand what that meant. I don't really understand how they didn't. At least they liked their "100th day" stickers that I made them wear all day.

"Today is the 100th day of school!"
"Gwhaaaat?"
"We've been in school for 100 days."
"Huh??"
"Guys, we have come to school for 100 days."
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

I'm just glad there aren't 100 more.

shoe on the roof.

Friday at school I kicked my shoe on the roof. I was playing with Kimberly in the plaza during lunch and kicked a ball, but my little black flat flew farther than the ball and landed directly above my classroom. My kids loved it.

marvin's apology.

Marvin has been my biggest problem all year. He is a very energetic, boisterous child. He's always cracking jokes at others' expense and laughing when someone makes a mistake. He often interrupts my class by talking or getting out of his seat. It got to a point this week where I was spending more class time reprimanding Marvin than teaching and attending to the other students. I marched Marvin to the office, quickly explained to the principals that I could not conduct class with him present, and left. Marvin came back sobbing. Now, whenever he gets in trouble, he's very apologetic and regretful. He cries and promises to do better, but his behavior never improves.

The day following this climactic event, Mr. Lara, one of the principals, pulled me and Marvin out of class and explained to me that Marvin had made a deal with him. He handed me this letter:

To: Mr. Calderón, Mr. Lara y Ms. Anderson

I promise That I will never go to the office. I will have a Good behavior. I will not said bad things, and make Jokes in class. I promese That I will be better from Today. I am sorry of my bad behavior. I Talk with Ms. Anderson and, she told me That if a had a good behavior, she will gave me stickers, and Ms. Anderson told me that we are going to have something special.

¡I AM SORRY!

From: Marvin Javier Salinas Escalante

lesly is in love again.

Remember Lesly? She's the one who was in love with my brother just from the picture I have hanging in my classroom.

Well, Lesly has found love again. This semester Abundant Life has recruited a new teacher, Tad, or Mr. V, the apple of Lesly's eye. She was enamored the moment she met him. He visited my class the first afternoon he was on our campus, and Lesly ran up to him and said, "Do you have a girlfriend?" When his reply was "No," she immediately wrapped her arms around him.

Lesly made it very clear that she was crazy about Mr. V. I asked her, "What about my brother? I thought you were in love with him." Her explanation was very logical. "Well, your brother he is not here, and Mr. V, he is."

A couple days later, after she had recruited me to help her hunt down Mr. V and sat staring at her unaware love in the door of his empty classroom, I said to her, "Lesly, he's too old for you. You're not allowed to date until you're 18." With pure sincerity, she stopped me and said, "Miss, no! When my mother is born, my father he have 15 years." She went on to explain, "Mr. V only llevarme 13 years, so I have a chance!"

wasps.

A few days ago at school, there was a horrifying swarm of wasps. I was teaching one of my morning classes, and the kids suddenly brought to my attention that there were hundreds of wasps outside our east windows. It should be noted that in my classroom, the east windows are glass, and the west windows are completely open apart from bars. I tried to calm the kids down, reassuring them that the wasps couldn't get through the glass. But then we turned our attention from the east to the west, and horror struck me as I saw thousands of wasps swarming the school's plaza. I thought to myself, "They're going to come into the classrooms," and then what would we do? It would cause mayhem. I felt like I was in a horror film or a reenactment of one of the plagues, and fear seriously settled within me. But just as quickly as they came, the wasps left. Only one wasp found its way into our classroom that day, and no one was even stung.

weather, paint, clean lips.

I've been back in Honduras for almost a week now. I was not quite ready to leave home, but I reasoned with myself, arguing that at least the weather would be warm. Well, the weather wasn't so inviting either. It's in the 50s at night and the 60s during the day. Now, I know all you back in winter wonderland are thinking, "That's nothing compared to our subzero temperatures!" But please imagine sleeping in a bedroom where the temperature is about 55°. It may be 0° outside back in the midwest (or wherever you find yourself), but I bet most of your central heating thermostats are set to 70°. Excuse my rant.

Jacki and I painted our room today. It looks a lot cleaner, a lot healthier, and a lot more inviting. Hopefully my health will improve because of this. We're hoping we bleached and painted enough to kill it all.

I found some random entries in my journal that I neglected to share a while back:

• Levi swears that "finidished" (a word he uses for "finished") is an English word that comes from France, even though I've reminded him that French is spoken in France.
• Maria José asked me one day if she could go to the restroom to clean her lips.

back to honduras.

I'll be on my way back to Central America way too early tomorrow morning. I have successfully cycled through and gotten over both bronchitis and then pneumonia in my two weeks at home. I feel like I got here yesterday, and in less than 24 hours, I'll be back on Honduran soil.

Pros

• It's currently 72° in Gracias and 8° in Indianapolis.
• I'll see my 23 little rascals again.
• My dollar goes a lot further.
• Back to simplicity.
• Back to my Honduran friends and American roommates.
• I can eat unlimited baleadas and mantequilla again.

Cons

• I'll be away from my friends and family.
• Back to work.
• No more sleeping in my oh so comfortable bed.
• No more central air control.
• No more American convenience.
• No more (preferred) church.

So, to some of you, I'll see you on the other side. To the rest of you, I'll see you this summer, unless of course you opt to come visit me on my mountain. There's also Skype, e-mail, Facebook, instant messaging, international phone calls, letters, etc., but that's not as good as the real thing.