And I title this post as such because there is a smattering of stars across the bottom of our night horizon this evening and they are all a-twinkle as they do and today with the second graders (who are quickly becoming my favourite class) I taught them how to draw the stick figure star I learned when I was barely older than them. Also because the stars are there even when they aren't, even after time and space have extinguished the source but not the after-echo. Or something.
Because today is the ten day mark, the last double digit day I will be spending in this country with these people. (bonus points if you can count how many times I've exclaimed over "this country" and "these people" and the niños.) And I wasn't planning on feeling really weird about it but when you only have ten days left in a country that has been home for give or take the last seven weeks, such a number is knee-knocking. Gah! Sorry. I don't mean to seem obsessed with numbers, with the time that is almost missing, almost here, almost gone. On with it!
Yesterday my now-facebook friend Nicole (the English teacher) was sick so I had to teach the lessons solo yo! Well, I actually didn't have to do anything because if you don't put anything in to Carita Feliz you won't get anything out of it and I could have walked away and wouldn't have been judged except in my own eyes for being a coward and failure and hypocrite about this life, so I screwed my courage to the sticking post and swallowed the slight awkwardness of not quite knowing enough Spanish and just jumped in. Which was incredible, if the biggest challenge yet. Mostly because I didn't know the schedule for which class was when (rotates each day so I couldn't quite nail it last week) so I ended up erring greatly (aka the first class I jumped into didn't actually have english that day.......*squinching awkward eyes*) but my goodness. I've probably mentioned how much I love watching the other teachers in action (how I would not mind marrying one or two of them because they just have this sense of humor and a humble kind of grace.....gosh this just got a bit weird if this gets around) and how "good people" they seem to be but man were they ever so helpful and forgiving and kind to me as I stumbled between classes and tried to get the kids to listen. They called from teacher to teacher to figure out who was next and yelled no escuchan! when no one was escuchan-ing and smiled and asked my name and I'm not sure why I was so struck by this friendliness because if I've learned anything it is that nicaraguans are SO friendly but I think it is because I assumed they used up all of their patience with the kids. But friendly people are friendly to the bone. And so they were.
I mostly just taught the English alphabet and the days of the week because those are basic and quite essential and I just want them all to learn, to repeat and practice and learn and practice and learn and repeat and keep trying. I wrote the Spanish-phonetic English alphabet enough to have it memorized, and repeated the days of the week enough to feel how weird sounds actually are. And the kids were following in the footsteps of the teachers with how forgiving they were to me. They coped a-okay with my not so smooth spanish and understood me and corrected me kindly when I made mistakes, either giving me a false sense of confidence about how my malo español can get me by or just showing me how people don't care about the minor things. I just wish I could be more obviously an example of why you need to practice actually speaking a language to get better, need to open your mouth and just try and make the mistakes that will make you better. Because that was what I was doing but it is so difficult to translate that sentiment, even though kids are much better at trying, shy but eager versus mumbling embarrassed teenagers (unless they know English is a game changer in this country).
And now I'm here writing about it and thinking of those moments bent over a notebook with a student and leading them through conversations and pronouncing each letter and it makes me want to have those joyous happy tears slide down my face because there is so much success in those sentences, in the smiles, in the greatness that comes from the smallest of practice. This feeling is one that would plant me in a country, in one school with one class forever to follow them through progress and triumph and trials and see them go somewhere. This is the feeling that tells me I can do this. Having a day where it was just me in charge of the classes and seeing them all write down my words in their notebooks, pencils clutched tightly, fingers focused on each letter, having that day was all the realizing encouragement I ever needed, and a slightly disquieting show of just how influential a teacher can be. It is no longer something I doubt but something I know. Yo puedo.
And then today with the second graders I love I just had the most hilarious time. Sitting and tickling and laughing and joking with those humble and rambunctious boys, they were kid-fresh and full of giggles. Literally we were just giggling, me able to understand the jokes and being able to make them laugh back and giggling through the "no puedo"s of drawing the rooms of a house or whatever it was. Again I am bereft of words to describe it, glad as all stars that I have it as one of those priceless memories I'm going to fall back on whenever I lose all hope in humanity. Somewhere there are eight year olds giggling about churros and doing devil ears on turned heads, somewhere there will be eight year olds who can just exist. They will not smell of glue, they will not have bright red, veiny eyes, they will not move pseudo desperately through late night streets asking regalome, give me it, gift it to me, they will not be putting palm frond flowers behind tourist ears and feigning hunger as an excuse to wish for an American life, a westernized escape, French fries, an ice cream. I need to believe that somewhere the eight year old boys are loved and happy and laughing, quick to smile, never to judge.
The stars are out in full force now with the last of the sunset gone. There are bats squeaking around the corners, frogs in a distant chorus ushering in the quiet volcano night. I want to hold the world where it is as we all tuck into bed, doorsteps, each other.
Let's just breathe.
dftba
-k
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