The sun has begun to rise and my cell phone wakes me up. It's 6am and my cold shower feels amazing - when it's over. I've fallen down the wooden stairs before, so I take them slowly now. I enter our little kitchen area. The new faucet in the kitchen sink looks pretty and is a relief; two weeks ago we had water problems.
It's now about 7am as we walk the 4 blocks to the park where we catch the bus. We pass by two panaderias (pastry shops), a pharmacy and other smalls stores as we walk across the cracked concrete walkway. I try my best to ignore the comments men make when we pass. I prefer my early days here when I couldn't understand what they said. After crossing three streets with fast buses and cars and no traffic lights, we reach parque Daniel Hernandez. Our little bus, like the others, don't run by a set schedule. Somedays we barely have to wait, other times for almost 30 minutes. Riding the buses here also means sometimes you only find standing room and hopes of personal space should be quickly forgotten.
This is my favorite part of the day, as we pass all the beautiful scenery. I'm slowly waking up and mentally preparing for the Colegio. After 20 minutes we arrive in the small residency of Las Moritas. We stop right in front of the school, with its mural painted on the outside walls. We ring the bell and the young woman who works in the kitchen opens the door. The classrooms have open walls facing the hallway, so we wave at the students as we pass by. Our desk is small and in the library. The work is about to begin.
First on the list is kinder. They jump out of their seats and give me a group hug. Since they are so short, I have to be careful they don't push me over, with all them squeezing my legs! They are taught songs, colors and that sort of thing. Next is first grade. They are the ones who always fight and misbehave and perhaps have taught me the greatest lessons in love and patience. Besides grades 1-5, we have preparatoria in the morning as well, the grade between kinder and 1st.
They have recesses during the day and a snack, but they don't have a formal lunch. Grades K-3 get out at varying times around midday and 4th &5th arrive at 12:30pm and study until 4:30pm. One of my favorite memories is when we didn't give classes in the afternoon because the kids were in the library watching a soccer match! Since the World Cup, ¨Mundial¨, is almost beginning I can't go anywhere without seeing a FIFA sign or hearing ¨Waving Flag¨ and ¨Waka Waka¨ on the radio.
Even though our day usually ends at 1:30pm, we started giving English lessons to youth and community members from 1:30pm - 3:00pm several weeks ago. After about 3 months of this, 2 being only me teaching the kids, I burnt out. On top of my teaching concerns, a close friend of mine here died and his illness and tragedy shook me completely and profoundly. This exhaustion was devastating, especially since after my accident I've had to watch my health and pace myself more. Luckily, my roommate had already been here for a month and was able to take over the classes with the children. I've been teaching only the class to the community lately and resting, which has been wonderful.
Through my tears and frustrations here I'm learning the truth of working conditions in developing countries. As pointed out to me by a good friend, most of us in the US aren't used to demanding physical labor. As Baha'u'llah says, mankind is meant to carry forward an ever-advancing civilization. In the US we are still progressing and much work is to be done, but I believe we are definitely more developed in terms of matieral possession and civil rights. It's a confusing mess, thinking of how to improve the world, but I know I'll be able to use and make more sense of my experiences here as my life goes on. And I am continually more thankful for my life and this precious time to serve others.
