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.