Friday, May 11, 2012

The End.


Almost a fortnight has passed since I boarded the puddle jumper back to Belize City and I still have thoughts of San Pedro on a daily basis. I have attempted to deal with my crushing burrito withdrawal by looking back over my time in Belize, realizing how truly impactful the experience was. It helped shape my views as a teacher and also allowed me to reach my full potential for consuming debilitating amounts of rice and beans.

As far as the actual teaching goes, one of the major affects this trip had on me was my view of inclusive education. In Belize, there is no real identification process for students with special needs. Instead, the children who would receive modifications or additional support were they to be educated in the States are swept aside in their Belizean classrooms. It made me realize that creating even slight modifications for students with disabilities can make a huge difference in that student’s education. For example, allowing a student who had previously sat in the corner without any interaction to pass out papers or help the teacher collect assignments is a drastic improvement over their prior experience. A child should first and foremost feel comfortable in their classroom, and it is especially important to realize this with students who have special needs. By interacting with these Belizean students, I have gained insight and confidence to teach students with disabilities back in the US.

The reality of this field experience being over is finally starting to sink in. I really hope that someday I’ll be able to return to San Pedro and if not relive the experience, at least create a new one with equally wonderful memories. But for now, I’m off to get ready for graduation in t-minus six hours. I hope I don’t trip. 

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Final Days


While I’m now physically back in America, for the duration of this blog post (and those to follow) we’ll just say I’m mentally still in Belize so you can read about the teaching, packing, and Star Wars that took place. A fair warning: this is another long one.  

First, the teaching: our last two days at Isla Bonita occurred sans local teachers. While the Belizean educators made their way to a professional development workshop in Belize City, the gringos were left in charge. Luckily for me, Ms. Yvette had been away on personal matters prior to this, so subbing for Standard Tree was nothing new. Thursday was filled with grammar lessons, fraction practice, and enough intermittent rain showers to cause pandemonium during lunch hour. While the majority of students thought they were melting, a brave few risked turning the playground into an inadvertent slip-n-slide, causing the teachers to have mental flashes of broken bones and revoked visas. Happily, lunch ended with no physical injuries and the learning continued. Friday brought sun, spelling tests, and a school-wide celebration. The morning was spent in the usual routine of lessons, but at noon the students went home for lunch to get ready for the beach party that was to take place when they got back. While the children went off to don bathing suits and swim pants (it’s apparently laughable to refer to boys’ bathing garments as “suits”) the student teachers sat down to a feast. We were brought perfectly seasoned beef tacos, onion soup, taquitos, and an amazing fried coconut cake (shout out to Mollpeeps). When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, I waddled up to the classroom to get the students ready for the beach party. However, instead of the usual cacophony coming from behind the door I heard only silence, leading me to the only logical conclusion that they had all been running around the room, smashed heads, and were simultaneously knocked unconscious.  When I opened the door, however, I was greeted with a boisterous “surprise!” and found myself in the midst of my going-away party (much better than the comatose pile of children I was expecting). I was amazed at the class’ party planning ability; they had put together the entire thing at the suggestion of Ms. Yvette, who had been absent for the past 4 days. The students brought snacks, music, and enough coca-cola to stock three vending machines. So instead of going to the beach, the 10 kiddos and I spent the afternoon in the classroom blasting Lady Gaga and eating way too much cake. They even brought me presents, including key chains, magnets, a mug, and a photo album—all the things the tacky tourist in me wanted but couldn’t justify buying for myself. There were a few moments during the party when I started to get overly emotional, realizing how much I was going to miss these kids and San Pedro. However, at the end of the day the children deemed me braver than the last teacher since I didn’t actually cry. Really, I attribute this to the snacks; I don’t see how anyone could cry while dipping Doritos into cream cheese (thank you, Standard Three, for introducing me to such magic). After sad goodbyes and hopeful “I’ll try to come back and visit”s it was back to Pedro’s to pack.

Second, the packing: You don’t really care about that, do you?

Third, the Star Wars: As a way to celebrate our final night, Pedro’s decided to throw a Star Wars costume party. This was great for me as it forced me (heh, force) to wear something other than the bathing suit cover-up I had been living in for the past 5 weeks. Frustration arose, however, when I tore threw my suitcase and realized I did not have a full-size Chewbacca costume that I might have just forgotten about. Luckily, my many trips to the grocery store had paid off, and on my floor were two bags—one red, one black. After a bit of cutting and some sharpie work, I put the plastic bags over my head and walked down to the party as Darth Maul. Apparently it is not just my own mother who is concerned about asphyxiation; I had quite a few partygoers question my wardrobe choice. However, I made it back alive. Dark Side don’t need no oxygen.



Friday, April 27, 2012

Schools Galore


After teaching a rousing language arts lesson in the morning (editing marks and proper punctuation, yeah!), Wednesday was dedicated to exploring the other elementary schools on the island.

At the very least, I no longer associate the words “elementary school” with field day and spaghetti dinners.  If this shift in thinking started tapping me on the shoulder in my North Carolina internship, it’s been smashing me over the head since I got to Belize. The lack of smartboards and speedy Internet that is complained about in the States is nothing compared to the need for adequate sewage in some Belizean elementary schools. Guided by the air of the rotating fans, we made our way across the rickety dock that passed for the hallway of Holy Cross Elementary, a school built on top of a swampy landfill.

What surprised me the most, however, was the school situated in the “middle class” neighborhood. The dusty courtyard and AC deficiency would not have been tolerated in any middle class system back home. It brought to light the stark contrast between what we expect in America and what is accepted in Belize. This middle class housing looked like its heyday would have coincided with Barry Manilow belting out Copa Cabana. The porch railings with sculpted lions and peeling Key West paint looked like a ninety-year-old woman who applied an exorbitant amount of makeup as a last-ditch attempt to recapture her youth. The bright colors and Greco pillars that were meant to cover up flaws instead accentuated the wrinkles and cracks of the once-youthful structures. As if the foot-deep potholes in the dirt road would have gone unnoticed.  

It was a lesson in gratitude to see schools coming from so little yet doing so much. I swear on my gradebook to never complain about another faulty expo marker or unsharpened pencil. The fact that I don’t melt into a puddle of perspiration by the end of the day is a comfort that I had not realized is afforded to so few. Long live central air, purified water, and Isla Bonita Elementary for providing such luxuries. 

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Burritos


Halfway through the final week in Belize: my excuse to shove as many burritos into my mouth as possible. I wont start the reminiscing until the end of the week, but I feel the customary “my, time sure does fly,” is appropriate at this point. Three days left, let the tortilla consumption begin. 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Heritage


Last week, the inland trip with its cultural excursions and unlimited hot tea (thank you Rosa’s continental breakfast) drew to a close and gave way to a reality of full time teaching at Isla Bonita. Having spent the past few days wandering around ruins and, thanks to ATM, being literally immersed in history, I walked into school last Monday with the idea of Belizean heritage at the forefront my mind.

With such a rich and remarkable history, it only makes sense that Belizean students feel so connected to their past. They know their roots, and as a result are able to carry on the form and customs of their ancestors. These students feel much more of a connection to their forefathers than I do to the pale Bowdrings who crossed the Atlantic decades ago, bestowing upon me sunburns and freckles.

It is interesting to hear these students spout out knowledge of Caracol, Lamanai, and Xunantunich, whereas I have seen students in the US struggle to name the first two presidents. However, these students who know so much about ancient ruins are the same ones who overexert themselves trying to spell “house” and cringe in fear when they see fractions on the board. There is a great imbalance of what the students know about their heritage and what they need to learn about the rest of the world in order for them to be successful and carry on the heritage they are so proud of. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Spelunking


Last night I came to the conclusion that the awesomeness of what I’m doing is inversely related to the amount of blogging I do. Case in point: it’s been over a week since the coolest adventure of my life and I’m just now sending it out for your perusal.

When I say coolest I mean that literally; it all began with a jump into frigid water that, by the feel of it, hadn’t felt sunlight since the ancient Mayans waded through it. Luckily, summers in Marshfield had prepared me for such a situation, and I recovered quickly from the chill. This icy H20 sits at the mouth of Actun Tunichil Muknal (ATM), the three-mile long cave system located in San Ignacio, Cayo District.

So into the cave I went, in all my helmet-, headlight-, and tankini-clad glory. After only the first few yards of clambering for footholds and sliding down craggy rocks, spelunking had already become my new favorite activity (overtaking sitting on a dock and eating queso). As we went deeper and deeper into the cave, the darkness became something I could actually feel. We stopped at one point and everyone turned off their headlights, engulfing us in the thickest blackness I have ever experienced. Not being able to see my hand an inch from my face became quickly disorienting, and gave me a sliver of understanding about the Mayan customs. The ancient Mayans used to come into the cave for rituals, ingest some type of hallucinogen, extinguish their torches, and listen to the voices that spoke to them in the darkness. Something tells me, however, that you would start hearing voices even without the aid of drugs; it was an extremely primordial and spooky place. We continued the rest of our trek taking advantage of our 21st century battery packs, shining our lights on the broken pottery and human skeletons that give a calcified history of those who braved the cave before us. The whole tour took approximately three hours, but time could have easily stood still as we squeezed our way through the maze of the Mayan underworld.

I hiked back to the bus laden with soggy sneakers, a feeling of having experienced history firsthand, and an ardent desire to find a million more entrances to the cavernous world beneath us. 

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Caracol and a Waterfall


If you haven’t spent a day climbing and jumping off of things, I suggest you either find a place to do so or transform your backyard into a pool and jump off the roof. While this may not give you the same Mayan Indiana Jones feeling I had today, it’s the best idea I have for replicating the experience without actually coming to Belize. Which you should do anyway, so forget the backyard pool and just get on a plane.  

My morning started off with a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and considering I hadn’t had peanut butter in three weeks, I was already happy to call it a day. Little did I know just how much more exciting the day would get after my energizing breakfast. When the air conditioned passenger bus pulled up in front of our hotel at 7:30am, I was amazed at how far bussing technology had come since the previous day. The first place this miraculously cool mode of transportation took us was at first glance a dirt road. However, it turns out if you walk on dirt roads, they tend to lead to other places. In this case, we wound up at the top of a set of stone steps that lead down to the second entrance of a Mayan shelter cave. In case your cave knowledge is the same as mine was at the beginning of the day, caves are huge. Just the sheer size made me feel about the size of a mosquito, and that was before hearing about the history held its cool, damp walls. Apparently the cave was used as a shelter way back in the day (picture 600 B.C.), as evidenced by the pottery and tools found scattered around its ledges and near the small river that runs through it. Our guide, Diego, informed us that this cave is the smallest of the Belizean cave systems, which makes me rather giddy to explore Actun Tunichil Muknal (worth a google) tomorrow.

After a series of jaw drops and group photos, we headed back to the bus and drove onward to Caracol. Here we spent much of the afternoon having our minds and eyes filled with amazing knowledge of Mayan architecture, agriculture, recreation, and religion. Not only were we allowed to touch the ruins, but to climb on them as well. Caracol means “snail” in Spanish, which is appropriate considering how long it took me to crawl to the top of the ruins. Ancient Mayans must have had amazing legs.
Another highlight of the day was our protein-enriched pre-lunch snack—termites. I ate a termite. From a tree. It tasted like minty carrots.

After the insect appetizer, we sat down to an amazing lunch of chicken burritos, watermelon, and banana chocolate chip bread. It was right after we got under our lunchtime shelter that it began to rain, cooling the area and allowing me to stop sweating for the first time in 7 hours. From there it was back to the bus and on to the most refreshing part of the day; river swimming and waterfall jumping. Again we were dropped off on a dirt road with our backpacks slung over our shoulders and made the trek down to Five Sisters Falls. I have not felt such joy climbing rocks and jumping into water since the infamous River Rat trip of ’02. The rest of the afternoon was spent swimming around and, in my case, trying to look a lot cooler than I actually am by attempting to jump off the side of a waterfall. I made it out unscathed, but it seems I won’t be adding “graceful” to my list of attributes anytime soon.

The evening was topped off with a grilled chicken and brie sandwich and some San Ignacio exploring. Now I’m all set to be rocked to sleep by the gentle blaring of the techno music coming from the club next door. Goodnight to all.