I’m actually combining two assignments with this post—for one teacher I’m supposed to write about the English Language teaching I’ve seen at my placement, and for the other I’m supposed to write about my relationship with my mentor. I have enough work due between planning for eleven periods a day and the evil pre-post test assignment that I feel this small compromise shouldn’t kill anyone.
Let’s start with the English Language at my school. Teaching the upper grades at a bilingual school has its perks. Namely, the fact that the students essentially are fluent in English. Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what ‘fluent’ entails. My students can talk to me in English, watch Glee in English, and write expressive and comical responses to assigned prompts. The problems arise when they are assigned random American literature texts. They either don’t understand the context (see like seven of my other posts) or they do not understand the flowery language of authors (I’m pointing at you, F. Scott Fitzgerald). However, I have to hand it to these kids- they power through the texts despite their language limitations. I actually have students that ENJOYED The Great Gatsby and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They thought the books were INTERESTING. Wild.
The English teaching routine goes like this—teachers are given an Annual Plan of objectives to meet throughout the year. Kind of like a curriculum, but it’s more like, “by the end of the trimester read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and go through chapters 1-7 of the Grammar Sense 4 book.” With those guidelines, English teachers march into the classroom and spend the day alternating between grammar activities and the text. Not exactly a party, but it apparently gets the job done. These kids know their modals and present perfect better than I do.
I can’t say that I spent a lot of time here in the observing position. We were told that we would have up to two weeks to observe before we started teaching. Apparently, ‘observation’ translates loosely to take over all instruction with no mentor present and no texts and no guiding Annual Plan (I finally was able to get hold of that Holy Grail document about a week ago). I think this is pretty standard fare for abroad, but it makes my whole post on ‘my relationship with my mentor’ a little interesting. Eventually we met and have interacted regularly since about the second week. I’m going to pretty much limit what I have to say on that topic to two main points. 1. She is very open to my ideas about how to run the classroom. She has provided no negative feedback towards any of my lessons, and supports my actions when I take disciplinary measures with students. She respects my space, but I know that she will back me up if I advocate for resources (um, the school said the books would be in over a month ago, where are they), and she’ll do weird errands for me like finding speakers. She also loves Glee and thinks it’s brilliant that I’ve decided to use Glee to work on conversational skills. I also indicate to students that GLEE IS JUST LIKE REAL AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOL and as my mentor attended an American high school… well she thinks I’m pretty awesome for saying that. Main Point 2. She completely undermines what I am saying sometimes. I know she doesn’t mean to at all, but it happens. She is rarely in the room for a long period of time, but when she is, she will often engage in side Spanish conversations with students. My big thing is that this is English class, we’re supposed to speak English (unless you need help translating words or something), and also side conversations are just rude. I can’t really clear my throat or anything obvious, so I normally just tune it out. It bothers me though. Alright, enough of being a Negative Nancy. Point is, the students are in my class speaking English. Someone is doing something right.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
It's like he's trying to speak to me, I know it.
I’m staring at her, and it’s like that scene in Finding Nemo- “Look, you're really cute, but I can't understand what you're saying. Say the first thing again.” My host mother looks concerned and is TRYING to explain something to me, but I can’t make out a word of what she is saying. I had expressed to her that I was not feeling well and needed to take a day off to recuperate. Was she trying to take me to the hospital? Quarantine me? Telling me to go to bed? I finally turned to Merlyn for clarification. “She is, how to say, ah, ask if you want to go to Washington.” I turned back to mom and quickly assured her in Spanish that I did not want to go home and pointed to my sinuses. Not serious, I said. Just the weather and plants and my nose. She nodded and seemed relieved. As Katey, Marge and I have been saying- language fail.
My heads hurts at night from trying so hard to think and speak Spanish. As a veteran student of the process of second language acquisition, I know I’m technically in the ‘silent period’ when you understand a significant portion but cannot spit out the words. However, I’ve taken it upon myself to try and use the Spanish and just sound like an idiot. It’s the only way I’ll really learn the language. Of course, the fact that my family speaks virtually no English makes my Spanish usage somewhat mandatory. For example, after school today I am going to Atenas to work on my pre- and post-test data with Katey. I needed to explain to Merlyn that I would not be on the bus this afternoon, but would return later in the evening. Fortunately, most of my Spanish is centered upon the theme of home—how I survived the day, food we eat, when I am leaving home, when I will be back, where I am going, etc. The repetition of these words helps out a lot. I still don’t know what mom is saying sometimes (she speaks very quickly) but I am able to figure out from her tone that she is asking if I want more food (the answer is always yes).
I am learning, but it’s a slow process. I look forward to my run every day because it’s the only time when I can literally think to myself and listen to English music and just space out in my English bubble. Yeah, I know I teach English at school, but a lot of the day is dedicated to deciphering the word the student is looking for in Spanish or informing my students that I UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY ARE SAYING AND I KNOW THEY DO NOT WANT TO READ BUT IT IS GOING TO HAPPEN. Cough eighth grade.
This may sound stupid, but I think some of my language struggle comes from the fact I look somewhat native. People assume that I know Spanish because I look generally like someone that knows Spanish. I know that sounds like blatant stereotyping, but I was out with Merlyn (she has a fairer complexion than I do) and she asked someone at a store to repeat what they had said. The salesperson sighed and turned to me to explain the second time since my silly friend apparently did not understand Spanish. I didn’t even try to nod appropriately or fake understanding. Merlyn and I just started laughing. I think the most humbling part is the fact that Katey understands and speaks way more Spanish than I do. When we were out on Saturday, I wanted to say, look. I may look like all of you, but the blonde chick is the only one that’s going to get what you’re saying so talk to her. Haha.
Well actually let’s look at Saturday. We were out in Atenas at some crazy town-wide party where people ride horses through the streets and apparently bottles of Bacardi can be bought for four dollars. A pair of running shorts is fifty dollars, alcohol four. Well THAT makes sense. Anyways, the point is the town was crazy. Horses and people everywhere, pouring rain, dancing in the streets. Typical Costa Rican scene. Katey, Marge and I joined the revelers after a late dinner. Shockingly, we were approached by some young gentlemen from San Jose. They had just graduated from university and were on their way to a party. Were we interested? Well, let’s think. Random guys, walking to a random party, we barely understand them and they barely understand us… yeah, let’s go! Well, we walked in the rain up a massive hill in the middle of nowhere, and I was starting to get concerned. Not only were we with some random guys, but my language skills were impairing my ability to find out much about where we were going. On the bright side, if we were murdered I hadn’t spent all weekend doing the pre- and post-test assignment for Katy Arnett. I hadn’t even started the paper. So I mean, at least I’d had fun prior to my demise.
So we get to the top of the hill and I’m sure all is lost. However, once we get over the hill I’m realizing that this is no random house party- a field is covered with thousands of people. There are cotton candy machines, merry-go-rounds, you name it. At eleven pm in the rain. Kids everywhere. Totally normal. Before too long, we found some of the Indiana University girls (random) and headed towards the dance party. Quite the experience.
Right, so I was talking about my language skills. Although they fail me at times (illness, navigation, etc.) if I end up at a dance party with thousands of new friends, I must be doing something right. And that’s my posting on language. The end.
My heads hurts at night from trying so hard to think and speak Spanish. As a veteran student of the process of second language acquisition, I know I’m technically in the ‘silent period’ when you understand a significant portion but cannot spit out the words. However, I’ve taken it upon myself to try and use the Spanish and just sound like an idiot. It’s the only way I’ll really learn the language. Of course, the fact that my family speaks virtually no English makes my Spanish usage somewhat mandatory. For example, after school today I am going to Atenas to work on my pre- and post-test data with Katey. I needed to explain to Merlyn that I would not be on the bus this afternoon, but would return later in the evening. Fortunately, most of my Spanish is centered upon the theme of home—how I survived the day, food we eat, when I am leaving home, when I will be back, where I am going, etc. The repetition of these words helps out a lot. I still don’t know what mom is saying sometimes (she speaks very quickly) but I am able to figure out from her tone that she is asking if I want more food (the answer is always yes).
I am learning, but it’s a slow process. I look forward to my run every day because it’s the only time when I can literally think to myself and listen to English music and just space out in my English bubble. Yeah, I know I teach English at school, but a lot of the day is dedicated to deciphering the word the student is looking for in Spanish or informing my students that I UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY ARE SAYING AND I KNOW THEY DO NOT WANT TO READ BUT IT IS GOING TO HAPPEN. Cough eighth grade.
This may sound stupid, but I think some of my language struggle comes from the fact I look somewhat native. People assume that I know Spanish because I look generally like someone that knows Spanish. I know that sounds like blatant stereotyping, but I was out with Merlyn (she has a fairer complexion than I do) and she asked someone at a store to repeat what they had said. The salesperson sighed and turned to me to explain the second time since my silly friend apparently did not understand Spanish. I didn’t even try to nod appropriately or fake understanding. Merlyn and I just started laughing. I think the most humbling part is the fact that Katey understands and speaks way more Spanish than I do. When we were out on Saturday, I wanted to say, look. I may look like all of you, but the blonde chick is the only one that’s going to get what you’re saying so talk to her. Haha.
Well actually let’s look at Saturday. We were out in Atenas at some crazy town-wide party where people ride horses through the streets and apparently bottles of Bacardi can be bought for four dollars. A pair of running shorts is fifty dollars, alcohol four. Well THAT makes sense. Anyways, the point is the town was crazy. Horses and people everywhere, pouring rain, dancing in the streets. Typical Costa Rican scene. Katey, Marge and I joined the revelers after a late dinner. Shockingly, we were approached by some young gentlemen from San Jose. They had just graduated from university and were on their way to a party. Were we interested? Well, let’s think. Random guys, walking to a random party, we barely understand them and they barely understand us… yeah, let’s go! Well, we walked in the rain up a massive hill in the middle of nowhere, and I was starting to get concerned. Not only were we with some random guys, but my language skills were impairing my ability to find out much about where we were going. On the bright side, if we were murdered I hadn’t spent all weekend doing the pre- and post-test assignment for Katy Arnett. I hadn’t even started the paper. So I mean, at least I’d had fun prior to my demise.
So we get to the top of the hill and I’m sure all is lost. However, once we get over the hill I’m realizing that this is no random house party- a field is covered with thousands of people. There are cotton candy machines, merry-go-rounds, you name it. At eleven pm in the rain. Kids everywhere. Totally normal. Before too long, we found some of the Indiana University girls (random) and headed towards the dance party. Quite the experience.
Right, so I was talking about my language skills. Although they fail me at times (illness, navigation, etc.) if I end up at a dance party with thousands of new friends, I must be doing something right. And that’s my posting on language. The end.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Post I Should Have Posted A While Ago
When I wrote about breaking into the house, I realized I haven’t really told you about my living conditions. Maybe that’s something I should explain. I think I covered the basics on the family- mom, dad, Merlyn (19), and Christopher (11). Maybe I didn’t. Well here’s the quick run-down: Merlyn is my best friend here. She’s 19, but she could easily pass for mid-20s. She’s gorgeous. She’s studying business at the local university. She’s taken me on a few adventures down here- the zoo, shopping, the grocery store. It’s great to have her around. Especially when you do stupid stuff like leave all of your makeup at Marjorie’s before some important event. It’s nice to have someone with your skin tone in the house to help you out. Merlyn’s English is about the same level as my Spanish- we can choke out what we need to say in order to get by. Haha. It works though! Christopher is 11. He seriously cracks me up. He does typical boy things (eats about seven bowls of Frosted Flakes hourly), and he loves to play with Rocky and the chickens. Just this morning he somehow covertly snuck the majority of breakfast to Rocky and Blanket the Chicken outside the window. Skills. I think he knows more English than he lets on, but it’s cool. I just make a fool out of myself using Spanish instead. Mom and Dad are so chill. I think she starts working on my dinner around 8 am. When I show up for breakfast around 5:45, she’s already done like four loads of laundry and made an extensive meal. It’s really insane. Dad works on the farm (see past post) a few days a week, and sits around watching soccer the rest of the time. He thinks I’m hilarious because I obviously don’t know what the blazes is going on about eighty percent of the time. Every time I start looking particularly puzzled he giggles.
With that being said, they are an adorable family. It’s apparent that mom and dad are obsessed with each other which is soooo cute. Merlyn and Chris get along pretty well too, considering their age difference. She’s always howling at him for doing stuff, but in an endearing way.
The house itself is awesome. We have a pool, indoor gardens, pool house with a full bar and kitchen, mango trees, coconut trees, chickens, dog, it’s amazing. I have my own room (Merlyn’s room) and bathroom. Only complaint—haven’t taken a warm shower since I left Maryland. That sucks. It’s my motivation to go running, though. If I’m sweating bullets when I get home, the cold shower feels refreshing. At any other hour, it just makes me want to die.
It’s nice staying with a family. It seems like you aren’t really a zillion miles away in a place where you don’t know anyone or the language if you get to come home to a family every day. I worry when Chris isn’t getting to the bus fast enough in the afternoon, and I like watching soccer with dad when I get tired of schoolwork. It’s cute. I’m going to miss them to pieces when I get back to the US. Hopefully, Merlyn and/or Chris can come up to the US at some point. I know they would love my crazy life at home!
With that being said, they are an adorable family. It’s apparent that mom and dad are obsessed with each other which is soooo cute. Merlyn and Chris get along pretty well too, considering their age difference. She’s always howling at him for doing stuff, but in an endearing way.
The house itself is awesome. We have a pool, indoor gardens, pool house with a full bar and kitchen, mango trees, coconut trees, chickens, dog, it’s amazing. I have my own room (Merlyn’s room) and bathroom. Only complaint—haven’t taken a warm shower since I left Maryland. That sucks. It’s my motivation to go running, though. If I’m sweating bullets when I get home, the cold shower feels refreshing. At any other hour, it just makes me want to die.
It’s nice staying with a family. It seems like you aren’t really a zillion miles away in a place where you don’t know anyone or the language if you get to come home to a family every day. I worry when Chris isn’t getting to the bus fast enough in the afternoon, and I like watching soccer with dad when I get tired of schoolwork. It’s cute. I’m going to miss them to pieces when I get back to the US. Hopefully, Merlyn and/or Chris can come up to the US at some point. I know they would love my crazy life at home!
I'm growing as a person.
During my time in Costa Rica, I have had to make some cultural adjustments. One, the language isn’t the same. That’s been a problem once in a while. Two, everyone is overly affectionate here. I will need to break the habit of kissing everyone I meet asap when I get back to the states. Three, I’m used to running around random dogs, chickens, roosters, children in the streets. It’s going to be strange to not see that anymore. Four, the food. I was always a carb queen, but this is unreal. I eat rice about six times a day and a piece of bread for lunch. A little excessive but it’s good stuff. Finally, five: I had to learn how to dance.
I know what you are thinking. Katie, you’ve always been an amazingly graceful and inspiring dancer. I know. Well, dancing here is different. People here know how to merengue. I mean everyone—children, old people, people out in clubs, people in the kitchen, they know how to do it. Which is amazing, because it’s basically a partner dance where you are improvising the whole time. How you manage to stay in sync with your partner is beyond me. Anyways, when we went out on Friday night, I decided this was a cultural hurdle I was going to overcome. And I did.
Well let me back up. It all started after the zoo when we decided to go out dancing. Marge and I headed to her house so we could get ready to go out. She wasn't joking, she does live in a mansion. Her mom's closet is like the size of my bedroom in Frederick. She gave us whatever we wanted to wear. I opted for a semi-conservative black strapless dress. Marge wore a skirt and pink top. Katey wore a skirt and heels. We drank a lot of coffee and danced to glee for a while, and then Marge's cousin came to pick us up. He's an awkward fellow. Decent English for a Costa Rican, but just kind of awkward. He's probably upper twenties. Anyways he was somehow in charge of taking us out. We decided upon the Costa Rican equivalent of Tiki bar... it's been closed all season and it was the big reopening that night. Parking was insane. I was terrified I would be over/under dressed, but I was fine. Hispanic women like to show a lot of skin... my skirt was far more conservative. I didn't stand out or anything though.
So the dancing. The bands were LEGIT. Imagine big bands, full brass, guys singing are not only good, but dance 1950s style the whole time. It was unbelievable. Of course, everyone was dancing merengue. Seriously, if you don't know how it looks, look it up. Obviously, I really wanted to learn. However, you need a partner. That was kind of a problem. Everyone seems to arrive with said partner, and I arrived with two white chicks. To make matters worse, cousin dude was starting to hit on the guy next to me. I mean really. So typical. Anyways, eventually some guy walks up and asks me to dance. Now, let's be for real. I am not usually too forgiving to random guys that try to talk to me. I'm barely nice to guys I know that try to talk to me. However, for some reason I decided to give this guy a chance. He was far from my normal standards: at least one article of jcrew/banana republic, shaved in the last 24 hours, unbearably left-wing (why I always bring not-so-straight guys home), and yet, I was like, whatever. Let's dance. I passed my drink off to Marge and headed to the dance floor.
It was the most fun I've ever had. He was a remarkably good dancer, and I picked up the steps pretty fast. It involves a lot of turns, and I love turns when I'm in a skirt. I was cracking up with sub-par standards guy. He didn't really speak English, but he could kick me in the right direction. It worked out. We danced all night.
FORTUNATELY sub-par guy peaced out with his friends, because it didn't look like gay cousin was going to save me if things got awkward. We piled into the car and headed home around 3. I banged on the door (I knew Merlyn was the only one home) and of course the alarm system goes off. I muttered some choice words to myself. Fortunately she came pretty quickly to the door. She was laughing and yelling at me for coming in so late at the same time. I was hysterical and speaking Spanglish a million miles an hour. Fail.
The next day (time check: 3 hours later) Merlyn and I went to meet the family for a Quinceñera. It was on a farm out in the end of the world and it was FANTASTIC. The service was in a church with no air conditioning and way too many dogs. Afterwards, the service moved to a big open farmhouse thing for the party. Imagine-- lights, fog machines, lavender plastic figurines everywhere... it was awesome. The food was great, Dad and I laughed about me breaking into the house, and we all danced. Fortunately I had some skills from the night before, so Dad and I could jam out to merengue. Eventually we were pooped. Back at the farm, I settled down and dreamt of the last time I showered (Friday morning). Around 6 am, I woke up and played around the farm. I heard a sad sounding animal nearby, and soon discovered it's head on the kitchen table. Considering I'm basically vegetarian in the real world, I was so proud of myself when I calmly ate pig for lunch. As I sat there eating, the head was still on the table. And other organs. Lordy.
After lunch, Michael and I went for a long horseback adventure. Shockingly, I have never ridden a horse extensively before. It's really not a hard skill. You hold on and turn the horse one way or another. We went to see a new calf that had been born earlier in the day, and we meandered through coffee and pineapple fields. It was unreal. No worries- there are pictures. I look nothing short of rustic.
Eventually we headed back to the house. I was SO HAPPY when I saw that fish was on the menu for dinner. I could not do pig again. I wasn't feeling great later in the evening... I think it was semi-stress paired with no allergy medicine on the farm. My shower helped, and then I was too distracted by work to notice any more sneezes.
Obviously, I’ve made cultural adjustments. By the end of this post, it’s apparent that I’m not the same person I was in the states. I mean, merengue, horses?!?!?!?, eating meat? I know. It’s been a learning experience. I think my greatest accomplishment is merengue, though. It makes me feel native. I WILL NEED A PARTNER WHEN I RETURN. SUBMIT YOUR APPLICATIONS VIA EMAIL.
Alright, that’s all, time to teach. Adios.
I know what you are thinking. Katie, you’ve always been an amazingly graceful and inspiring dancer. I know. Well, dancing here is different. People here know how to merengue. I mean everyone—children, old people, people out in clubs, people in the kitchen, they know how to do it. Which is amazing, because it’s basically a partner dance where you are improvising the whole time. How you manage to stay in sync with your partner is beyond me. Anyways, when we went out on Friday night, I decided this was a cultural hurdle I was going to overcome. And I did.
Well let me back up. It all started after the zoo when we decided to go out dancing. Marge and I headed to her house so we could get ready to go out. She wasn't joking, she does live in a mansion. Her mom's closet is like the size of my bedroom in Frederick. She gave us whatever we wanted to wear. I opted for a semi-conservative black strapless dress. Marge wore a skirt and pink top. Katey wore a skirt and heels. We drank a lot of coffee and danced to glee for a while, and then Marge's cousin came to pick us up. He's an awkward fellow. Decent English for a Costa Rican, but just kind of awkward. He's probably upper twenties. Anyways he was somehow in charge of taking us out. We decided upon the Costa Rican equivalent of Tiki bar... it's been closed all season and it was the big reopening that night. Parking was insane. I was terrified I would be over/under dressed, but I was fine. Hispanic women like to show a lot of skin... my skirt was far more conservative. I didn't stand out or anything though.
So the dancing. The bands were LEGIT. Imagine big bands, full brass, guys singing are not only good, but dance 1950s style the whole time. It was unbelievable. Of course, everyone was dancing merengue. Seriously, if you don't know how it looks, look it up. Obviously, I really wanted to learn. However, you need a partner. That was kind of a problem. Everyone seems to arrive with said partner, and I arrived with two white chicks. To make matters worse, cousin dude was starting to hit on the guy next to me. I mean really. So typical. Anyways, eventually some guy walks up and asks me to dance. Now, let's be for real. I am not usually too forgiving to random guys that try to talk to me. I'm barely nice to guys I know that try to talk to me. However, for some reason I decided to give this guy a chance. He was far from my normal standards: at least one article of jcrew/banana republic, shaved in the last 24 hours, unbearably left-wing (why I always bring not-so-straight guys home), and yet, I was like, whatever. Let's dance. I passed my drink off to Marge and headed to the dance floor.
It was the most fun I've ever had. He was a remarkably good dancer, and I picked up the steps pretty fast. It involves a lot of turns, and I love turns when I'm in a skirt. I was cracking up with sub-par standards guy. He didn't really speak English, but he could kick me in the right direction. It worked out. We danced all night.
FORTUNATELY sub-par guy peaced out with his friends, because it didn't look like gay cousin was going to save me if things got awkward. We piled into the car and headed home around 3. I banged on the door (I knew Merlyn was the only one home) and of course the alarm system goes off. I muttered some choice words to myself. Fortunately she came pretty quickly to the door. She was laughing and yelling at me for coming in so late at the same time. I was hysterical and speaking Spanglish a million miles an hour. Fail.
The next day (time check: 3 hours later) Merlyn and I went to meet the family for a Quinceñera. It was on a farm out in the end of the world and it was FANTASTIC. The service was in a church with no air conditioning and way too many dogs. Afterwards, the service moved to a big open farmhouse thing for the party. Imagine-- lights, fog machines, lavender plastic figurines everywhere... it was awesome. The food was great, Dad and I laughed about me breaking into the house, and we all danced. Fortunately I had some skills from the night before, so Dad and I could jam out to merengue. Eventually we were pooped. Back at the farm, I settled down and dreamt of the last time I showered (Friday morning). Around 6 am, I woke up and played around the farm. I heard a sad sounding animal nearby, and soon discovered it's head on the kitchen table. Considering I'm basically vegetarian in the real world, I was so proud of myself when I calmly ate pig for lunch. As I sat there eating, the head was still on the table. And other organs. Lordy.
After lunch, Michael and I went for a long horseback adventure. Shockingly, I have never ridden a horse extensively before. It's really not a hard skill. You hold on and turn the horse one way or another. We went to see a new calf that had been born earlier in the day, and we meandered through coffee and pineapple fields. It was unreal. No worries- there are pictures. I look nothing short of rustic.
Eventually we headed back to the house. I was SO HAPPY when I saw that fish was on the menu for dinner. I could not do pig again. I wasn't feeling great later in the evening... I think it was semi-stress paired with no allergy medicine on the farm. My shower helped, and then I was too distracted by work to notice any more sneezes.
Obviously, I’ve made cultural adjustments. By the end of this post, it’s apparent that I’m not the same person I was in the states. I mean, merengue, horses?!?!?!?, eating meat? I know. It’s been a learning experience. I think my greatest accomplishment is merengue, though. It makes me feel native. I WILL NEED A PARTNER WHEN I RETURN. SUBMIT YOUR APPLICATIONS VIA EMAIL.
Alright, that’s all, time to teach. Adios.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Tortugas Post
When Dian approached Marjorie and me with the idea of ‘saving turtles’ as our community service project, I was thrilled. I became familiar with turtle rescue programs when I was on spring break one year in Miami. Around our beach and throughout the streets you could find signs warning drivers to keep low lights and to watch out for young turtles. The notion of turtle saving intrigued me, but I never had the chance to pursue the matter further. That is, until this trip to Costa Rica! I was extremely excited about the trip for numerous reasons- one, turtle extinction is an issue that is truly affecting the Costa Rican (and world) community; two, we were going on the trip with other interns in the teaching program so I would make new friends; and three, we were going to the beach and quite frankly I like to tan. I had no major expectations of what the trip would entail, but based on the clothing requirements, I knew we were going to be in the trenches and getting dirty. Anyone who knows me knows that this well-dressed thing is just a façade; given the opportunity I will bury myself in dirt or sand. I was pumped.
On Friday morning, the bus picked Marjorie and me up in front of Fiesta del Maiz. You are probably wondering what that place is—in a nutshell it’s a restaurant with a giant corn sign. It was great to finally meet the other interns! Most of them are from Indiana, and they have the cutest little Midwestern accents. We all bonded instantly. I’m not exaggerating; it was so nice to hear about the experiences of others in similar situations. A few of the girls have the advantage of knowing Spanish. Must be nice. Along the way, we stopped to pick up another adventurer, a Hungarian young lady who had heard about the rescue program. By the time we drifted off the main roads and into the banana fields, you would have thought we had been friends for years. We all knew everyone’s secret stories (the breakup tales were dramatic and yet fantastic) and we knew we could tease each other pretty mercilessly. It was fortunate that we all got along, because our boat to take us to the island didn’t show up for about four hours. Finally we arrived at our camp. We were assigned to these adorable little cabins that contained one solitary cockroach but NO big spiders or scorpions. At least I think so. Soon after we arrived, we experienced a glorious Italian feast. Not exactly what I expected in Costa Rican backcountry! During dinner, we were informed of our schedule for the turtle hunt. We would go out around 11 pm and stay out until about 3 looking for turtles coming from the water to lay eggs. If the eggs were not in the protected area, we were to help with the process of collecting and relocating the eggs to the ‘turtle nursery’. Failure to move the eggs usually results in them being snatched by poachers. Since we had a few hours before the undercover mission began, I booked it to my cabin to take a nap. Soon though, I was decked out in my very official turtle catching shirt, sweatpants, and about two bottles of bugspray. I’m really bummed none of those pictures can be recovered. Not.
As soon as we got to the beach, we saw our first turtle. She was in the middle of laying a boatload of eggs, and it did not look fun. Due to the arrival of some government guy checking on the procedures of the program, we weren’t able to be as hands-on in the operation as originally intended. That was fine, though, we still got to watch the whole process. The leatherback turtles are MASSIVE. They look like dinosaurs emerging from the water. I don’t know how else to describe it. As we combed the spread of beach to look for more of these creepy creatures, we were able to continue to catch up on life. The ocean drowns out a lot of sounds, so the turtles didn’t really hear us coming. Katey and I talked extensively about Praxis and teaching (we both passed, thanks for wondering), and the fact that we live parallel lives right down the street from each other in western Maryland. Seriously, ask us sometime, it’s wild. Anyways, we ended up seeing three turtles that night at various stages of the egg dropping process. As a night owl, I found the whole experience remarkable. I could walk on the beach talking to friends and watching shooting starts every night! Eventually, we went back to the cabins and I took a pretty thorough shower. Honestly, there was no way for me to feel clean the entire weekend. I was either sweating my brains out or I was covered in dirt and sand OR some lovely combination of the two. Also, the fact the shower was a hose didn’t really help. Anyways, bed felt great. The next day, we conducted a thorough beach clean-up after breakfast. I decided to multitask and wear a bikini for the cleanup (no sense in wasting sun). Of course, this meant that it started to POUR about fifteen minutes into my hike. We were soaked. We did find some solid trash though, and way too many turtle shells. It makes me sad to think about the poachers crushing them, but you can understand the motives. It’s a very poor area with limited sources of income, and people pay a pretty penny (or colones) for the eggs.
Later in the afternoon we were given a cruise of the river. We were able to experience monkeys up close and personal, but fortunately the crocodiles kept their distance. The reptiles are really funny; we saw a few of the Jesus Christ lizards that run on top of the water. Quite a tour.
Our evening hunt the second night was structured in a different manner. We could volunteer for the 8-12 shift or the later (12 to whenever) shift. I actually volunteered for the earlier shift. Usually I’m all about the night, but I was worried about throwing off my sleep schedule for the week. I’ve finally adjusted to waking up at 5:30 without an alarm. Anyways, we did not see any turtles in my shift. It was rather damp and cold out, and I guess turtles are picky about their climate. Marjorie and I combed the beach religiously for four hours, talking about lord knows what because I think we pretty much covered every detail of our lives by about day ten of this trip. At the end of the four hours, she opted to stay up and I went to bed. I applaud her desire to see a turtle, but in the end I got eight hours of sleep. Who wins?
The next morning was drizzly and cold. In case you are keeping track, this means I have not accumulated any new tan at this point. In fact, I think I was losing color. We packed up camp and headed to the dock in the pouring rain. The trip from the island to the drop-off point was nothing short of intense. We probably traveled around 50 mph the whole time. I was wearing a poncho (thanks for packing that, Dad) so I wasn’t completely soaked. It was crazy though. They weren’t kidding about the rainy season here.
Although I was thoroughly disappointed to see the experience come to an end, I know that the friendships made on the trip will continue. I know that sounds so cheesy, but we all really bonded over turtles. I also think this experience is one that I will be able to incorporate into the classroom. As a potential Global Diplomacy teacher, I will spend a great deal of time talking about the issue of climate change. These turtles are in danger of extinction due to the fact the water temperature is rising. In conclusion, I have to hand it to Dian for giving us this amazing experience. I also should thank Julie and Paul, our fabulous guides, and the girls for a great time!
In case you are wondering, yes, I still have my fabulous turtle bracelet. How fitting!
On Friday morning, the bus picked Marjorie and me up in front of Fiesta del Maiz. You are probably wondering what that place is—in a nutshell it’s a restaurant with a giant corn sign. It was great to finally meet the other interns! Most of them are from Indiana, and they have the cutest little Midwestern accents. We all bonded instantly. I’m not exaggerating; it was so nice to hear about the experiences of others in similar situations. A few of the girls have the advantage of knowing Spanish. Must be nice. Along the way, we stopped to pick up another adventurer, a Hungarian young lady who had heard about the rescue program. By the time we drifted off the main roads and into the banana fields, you would have thought we had been friends for years. We all knew everyone’s secret stories (the breakup tales were dramatic and yet fantastic) and we knew we could tease each other pretty mercilessly. It was fortunate that we all got along, because our boat to take us to the island didn’t show up for about four hours. Finally we arrived at our camp. We were assigned to these adorable little cabins that contained one solitary cockroach but NO big spiders or scorpions. At least I think so. Soon after we arrived, we experienced a glorious Italian feast. Not exactly what I expected in Costa Rican backcountry! During dinner, we were informed of our schedule for the turtle hunt. We would go out around 11 pm and stay out until about 3 looking for turtles coming from the water to lay eggs. If the eggs were not in the protected area, we were to help with the process of collecting and relocating the eggs to the ‘turtle nursery’. Failure to move the eggs usually results in them being snatched by poachers. Since we had a few hours before the undercover mission began, I booked it to my cabin to take a nap. Soon though, I was decked out in my very official turtle catching shirt, sweatpants, and about two bottles of bugspray. I’m really bummed none of those pictures can be recovered. Not.
As soon as we got to the beach, we saw our first turtle. She was in the middle of laying a boatload of eggs, and it did not look fun. Due to the arrival of some government guy checking on the procedures of the program, we weren’t able to be as hands-on in the operation as originally intended. That was fine, though, we still got to watch the whole process. The leatherback turtles are MASSIVE. They look like dinosaurs emerging from the water. I don’t know how else to describe it. As we combed the spread of beach to look for more of these creepy creatures, we were able to continue to catch up on life. The ocean drowns out a lot of sounds, so the turtles didn’t really hear us coming. Katey and I talked extensively about Praxis and teaching (we both passed, thanks for wondering), and the fact that we live parallel lives right down the street from each other in western Maryland. Seriously, ask us sometime, it’s wild. Anyways, we ended up seeing three turtles that night at various stages of the egg dropping process. As a night owl, I found the whole experience remarkable. I could walk on the beach talking to friends and watching shooting starts every night! Eventually, we went back to the cabins and I took a pretty thorough shower. Honestly, there was no way for me to feel clean the entire weekend. I was either sweating my brains out or I was covered in dirt and sand OR some lovely combination of the two. Also, the fact the shower was a hose didn’t really help. Anyways, bed felt great. The next day, we conducted a thorough beach clean-up after breakfast. I decided to multitask and wear a bikini for the cleanup (no sense in wasting sun). Of course, this meant that it started to POUR about fifteen minutes into my hike. We were soaked. We did find some solid trash though, and way too many turtle shells. It makes me sad to think about the poachers crushing them, but you can understand the motives. It’s a very poor area with limited sources of income, and people pay a pretty penny (or colones) for the eggs.
Later in the afternoon we were given a cruise of the river. We were able to experience monkeys up close and personal, but fortunately the crocodiles kept their distance. The reptiles are really funny; we saw a few of the Jesus Christ lizards that run on top of the water. Quite a tour.
Our evening hunt the second night was structured in a different manner. We could volunteer for the 8-12 shift or the later (12 to whenever) shift. I actually volunteered for the earlier shift. Usually I’m all about the night, but I was worried about throwing off my sleep schedule for the week. I’ve finally adjusted to waking up at 5:30 without an alarm. Anyways, we did not see any turtles in my shift. It was rather damp and cold out, and I guess turtles are picky about their climate. Marjorie and I combed the beach religiously for four hours, talking about lord knows what because I think we pretty much covered every detail of our lives by about day ten of this trip. At the end of the four hours, she opted to stay up and I went to bed. I applaud her desire to see a turtle, but in the end I got eight hours of sleep. Who wins?
The next morning was drizzly and cold. In case you are keeping track, this means I have not accumulated any new tan at this point. In fact, I think I was losing color. We packed up camp and headed to the dock in the pouring rain. The trip from the island to the drop-off point was nothing short of intense. We probably traveled around 50 mph the whole time. I was wearing a poncho (thanks for packing that, Dad) so I wasn’t completely soaked. It was crazy though. They weren’t kidding about the rainy season here.
Although I was thoroughly disappointed to see the experience come to an end, I know that the friendships made on the trip will continue. I know that sounds so cheesy, but we all really bonded over turtles. I also think this experience is one that I will be able to incorporate into the classroom. As a potential Global Diplomacy teacher, I will spend a great deal of time talking about the issue of climate change. These turtles are in danger of extinction due to the fact the water temperature is rising. In conclusion, I have to hand it to Dian for giving us this amazing experience. I also should thank Julie and Paul, our fabulous guides, and the girls for a great time!
In case you are wondering, yes, I still have my fabulous turtle bracelet. How fitting!
WARNING: This post is about actual teaching. Occasionally I reflect on that. Turtle update will be posted after school.
Throughout my early teaching career, I have possessed a keen interest in the process of second language acquisition as it pertains to my content area. Often students that are entering the classroom without prior knowledge of English possess little knowledge of the traditional American history narrative. As a high school teacher, it is imperative that I acknowledge this gap in content knowledge and familiarize these individuals with the ‘traditional’ narrative in order to prepare them for the standardized graduation requirements. With that being said, a significant portion of my Masters Research Project (MRP) acknowledges that the content knowledge these students bring into the American classroom should NOT be discounted as a lesser narrative. Rather, students of all cultures and languages should feel welcomed to share their stories as a parallel, not conflicting, history.
With this educational philosophy firmly planted in my head, I entered the high school classroom in Costa Rica. Upon my arrival, I was informed that I would be teaching literature to students in grades 8-11. Although I am not a literature teacher, I was very familiar with many of the texts required in the curriculum, particularly the American classic To Kill a Mockingbird. For this reason, I looked forward to the ninth grade periods in the day when I would be able to explore the story with the students. When I invited the ninth graders to open their texts, however, they all groaned. “We hate this book!” “Nobody understands what’s going on!” “It’s boring!” Classic ninth grade complaints. However, it was clear when I asked for a basic summary that truly NO ONE knew what the book was about. I was able to clarify that the students were familiar with the main characters’ personalities, but other than that, they found the storyline to be extremely confusing. My first reaction was to assume it was a language barrier; maybe the flowery language at some points of the story was too much for ninth grade English language learners. Honestly, I read the book as an English speaking student in tenth grade, so the possibility did not seem too absurd. When I asked students to define ‘difficult’ words, however, they seemed to grasp the general ideas easily. At this point, I recognized it was a CONTENT problem, not a language problem. The same points I had learned as a history teacher were applicable in this setting. If the students do not understand the setting, the context of the story, the tale will not make sense. The students present in my class did not know what sleepy Alabama summers look like; they did not understand the history of Jim Crow laws, segregation, the Great Depression. To my students, the idea that a white man would defend a black man did not seem like a big deal. Why were the characters so upset about that? I realized instantly that I needed to place the students in the setting in order to make the story come alive… or at least make some coherent sense.
Fortunately, as an American Government teacher I taught Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) and Brown v. Board of Education (1954) extensively. Thinking on my feet, I flipped open a PowerPoint on my laptop entitled “Separate but Equal.” Although the language of the presentation went a little over the heads of my students, the pictures and my dialogue filled in what the students needed to know about the history of slavery, segregation, and the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. I showed the students pictures of the KKK and examples of Jim Crow laws that were enacted in Alabama during the time period of the book. I posted a picture of colored drinking fountains and asked if separate meant equal. Drawing a quick timeline on the front board, I was able to express to the students how recently these events had occurred. When I explained that segregation in Boston schools was still an issue in MY lifetime, the students looked appalled. “I don’t understand,” one of my outspoken male students interjected, “How come we didn’t know America has all of these bad things?” At this point, I paused. Well, my first reaction was, thank goodness you are not mandated to take an American history class as part of your Costa Rican graduate requirements. That would be imperialism at its best. My second thought was, I cannot fault your Costa Rican teacher for not explaining segregation and contextualizing this story. I bet To Kill a Mockingbird did not make much sense to her either! In a strange and obscure way, the school system in Costa Rica was assuming its English teachers possessed a prior knowledge base of American history.
The next afternoon, I had a United Streaming video prepared on Emmitt Till. The case in which a black man was accused of making advances on a white woman (with a very awful ending) in 1930s Mississippi paralleled some of the aspects of the case in Lee’s town of Maycomb. When the video showed the streets of Mississippi, I stopped to read descriptions of setting from the text that were present in the clip. When the students were outraged at the lack of justice in the case, I asked if they would have been strong enough to stand up for what they believed was right in the same manner as Atticus Finch. It was wild for me to see students so passionate about a history they had never known existed 24 hours ago. Armed with this new contextual understanding, we read ahead in the text. By the end of the week, several students allowed that the book was “tolerable.”
There are still significant challenges that I face with this text and this class. The largest of which I will be addressing in class on Thursday—the use of the ‘n’ word. Students recognize the word from popular music from the United States, and Lee uses the word frequently in the text. Although I have indicated several times when reading as a class that the word has a very negative connotation today, many students model Lee’s use the word to describe characters. At first, I shied away from addressing this rather uncomfortable topic. However, it has become apparent over the past few days that this is an issue I cannot afford to overlook. Imagine if my students were to come to the United States and believe the word was acceptable! It is much better for me to address the topic head on than to wait until the end of the book!
What did I learn from this experience? Well, the readings I had to do for Katy Arnett are actually applicable in the real world. Besides that point, I learned that establishing the setting and the context of a story is critical to the understanding of a text, whether it is a historical narrative or literature. Prior knowledge of an event or society cannot be assumed, even if it is a history of the all-powerful United States. I also learned that misconceptions may exist about language or cultures that seem completely unfathomable to a native English speaker in the United States. We cannot fault these students for thinking certain words are acceptable. Rather, we should look at the sources where the students have gathered this information. If American pop music and a treasured literature text use a word, students assume it is okay.
Today, I began my unit on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with the twelfth graders (I am VERY relieved I just missed the end of their Macbeth unit!). I sat the students down and had them close their eyes. Slowly, I described the busy streets of London in the mid 1800s. I illustrated pleasant buildings, and then paused to mention the boarded up dwelling at the end of the street. I asked students to explain what the building looked like. Without even opening the text, the students accurately described Stevenson’s English dwelling belonging to Mr. Hyde. As we read through the first chapter, the students continued to add onto their initial description of the house. “Now we know it has shutters on the side, but no windows.” I could tell just from this initial class meeting that many of my students are visual learners. Towards the end of the period, one of my students said, “This sounds like the town in that new movie Sherlock Holmes.” Perfect! I jumped on the parallel. “Has anyone seen that movie? That’s London in this time period.” Many students nodded. The context of the story was slowly forming.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Rain, Rocky, Religion, Rulers, and ...Turtles.
Right, so I didn't blog for a while. I mean excuse me, it's not like I was teaching or anything. Hahaha yeahhhh so this week I started to actually teach at Colegio de Santa Fe. I'm not going to get into too much detail about the school itself, but I will say my experience thus far has been eye opening and fabulous. The kiddies (grades 7-11) are hilarious, and for some reason think I'm funny. Anyways I love it.
Since a lot has happened since my last entry, I will limit my post to things that begin with 'R' and tortugas.
1. Rain
Rain is underrated. There are many times in Maryland when rain is annoying, but here it is not. Rainy season technically starts in a few weeks, so it is extremely, extremelyyy dry here. On Tuesday, my host sister Merlyn and I jumped in the pool to cool off in the extreme heat. Of course, that's the first time it decided to rain. I didn't even care! It felt so nice to have the rain cool off the sidewalks and for the 'fresh rain' scent to be in the air. It rained for the second time during my run this afternoon. It smelled like summer and I could see the steam rising off the road. Of course luck would have it that I was wearing a white top. Well, the neighbors will remember me. There's a dog that's been running a half mile or so with me everyday. He looks a lot like Houston, but way nicer and Spanish-speaking. Anyways, I was glad the rain did not deter him today. I like to vent about my life during our time together.
2. Rocky
Rocky is the yellow lab that sits outside this house. Technically, he's my host family's pet, but dogs are treated differently here. He really just lingers outside the door. He is absolutely adorable (as a lot of labs are). I assume he's a pretty hardy specimen as we all know Molly can't exist outdoors for over ten minutes. Anyways secretly I pet him when I'm outside. I think he needs a friend. The chickens that meander about the yard don't like to talk to him.
3. Religion
Okay, well if you've heard about my adventures through phone calls or email, you know I found religion on Saturday (ha). No, but besides that, I've found it really interesting to participate in the Catholic activities of Costa Rica. Easter Sunday, Katey, Marge and I headed to the cemetery in Atenas to participate in the services and the parade. Seriously, I saw about 300 kids in their Easter clothes that I wanted to stick in my suitcase. No need to call the police, I held off. Back to the service- the music was beautiful, the church was breathtaking, and most importantly, Katey's parents bought us cotton c
andy to celebrate the holiday.
My host family is also quite religious; a service was held at the pool house (yeah, I said pool house) on Tuesday. I didn't participate due to my obligation to drive with my sister to take my brother to English classes, but the music upon our return was nice. My host mom has been singing the songs since, so I think I'm set for the next gathering.
4. Rulers
Oh... right... school. Yeah, keeping it short, I just want to reiterate that I love the school and the students. It's a different pace from the US, and I can't tell if that's refreshing or nerve wracking. By that I mean that time is a lot more... fluid in the schools. Classes change whenever, students show up whenever, recess lasts til whenever, etc. At first I was freaking out when one out of 15 of my students showed up at 7:30 am, but by now, I know that's just the way it's going to be. And that's fine. I mean we're in school 7:30-3:15, I certainly think I have enough time to do what I need to do. I can also say that the fluidity extends to curriculum. I went from HSA classes to "read this book by May." Wow. This point I kinda like. I was reading To Kill a Mockingbird with my ninth graders and I realized they didn't understand segregation or America in the 1930s. I actually had the TIME in the curriculum to stop and do a two-day crash course on post-reconstruction America through the Civil Rights Movement. By providing the context to the story, I think it's making a lot more sense. I can't fault my mentor teacher for not explaining 1930s Alabama; I mean, how's she supposed to know? I'm glad I can provide this insight to my students. (Who am I kidding? I'm just glad I was able to teach history for two days.)
5. TURTLES
Right, you were wondering when I would get to the turtles. So tomorrow morning, around 8 am, I will leave on an epic weekend trip to save the lives of leatherback turtles. I know, I am so selfless to spend another weekend at the beach. We're going to the Atlantic this time, so I get a whole new side of the country to explore!
I'll be sure to post pictures of that whole experience, and please PRAY that my transportation goes well!
Miss you all!
Since a lot has happened since my last entry, I will limit my post to things that begin with 'R' and tortugas.
1. Rain
Rain is underrated. There are many times in Maryland when rain is annoying, but here it is not. Rainy season technically starts in a few weeks, so it is extremely, extremelyyy dry here. On Tuesday, my host sister Merlyn and I jumped in the pool to cool off in the extreme heat. Of course, that's the first time it decided to rain. I didn't even care! It felt so nice to have the rain cool off the sidewalks and for the 'fresh rain' scent to be in the air. It rained for the second time during my run this afternoon. It smelled like summer and I could see the steam rising off the road. Of course luck would have it that I was wearing a white top. Well, the neighbors will remember me. There's a dog that's been running a half mile or so with me everyday. He looks a lot like Houston, but way nicer and Spanish-speaking. Anyways, I was glad the rain did not deter him today. I like to vent about my life during our time together.
2. Rocky
Rocky is the yellow lab that sits outside this house. Technically, he's my host family's pet, but dogs are treated differently here. He really just lingers outside the door. He is absolutely adorable (as a lot of labs are). I assume he's a pretty hardy specimen as we all know Molly can't exist outdoors for over ten minutes. Anyways secretly I pet him when I'm outside. I think he needs a friend. The chickens that meander about the yard don't like to talk to him.
3. Religion
Okay, well if you've heard about my adventures through phone calls or email, you know I found religion on Saturday (ha). No, but besides that, I've found it really interesting to participate in the Catholic activities of Costa Rica. Easter Sunday, Katey, Marge and I headed to the cemetery in Atenas to participate in the services and the parade. Seriously, I saw about 300 kids in their Easter clothes that I wanted to stick in my suitcase. No need to call the police, I held off. Back to the service- the music was beautiful, the church was breathtaking, and most importantly, Katey's parents bought us cotton c
andy to celebrate the holiday.My host family is also quite religious; a service was held at the pool house (yeah, I said pool house) on Tuesday. I didn't participate due to my obligation to drive with my sister to take my brother to English classes, but the music upon our return was nice. My host mom has been singing the songs since, so I think I'm set for the next gathering.
4. Rulers
Oh... right... school. Yeah, keeping it short, I just want to reiterate that I love the school and the students. It's a different pace from the US, and I can't tell if that's refreshing or nerve wracking. By that I mean that time is a lot more... fluid in the schools. Classes change whenever, students show up whenever, recess lasts til whenever, etc. At first I was freaking out when one out of 15 of my students showed up at 7:30 am, but by now, I know that's just the way it's going to be. And that's fine. I mean we're in school 7:30-3:15, I certainly think I have enough time to do what I need to do. I can also say that the fluidity extends to curriculum. I went from HSA classes to "read this book by May." Wow. This point I kinda like. I was reading To Kill a Mockingbird with my ninth graders and I realized they didn't understand segregation or America in the 1930s. I actually had the TIME in the curriculum to stop and do a two-day crash course on post-reconstruction America through the Civil Rights Movement. By providing the context to the story, I think it's making a lot more sense. I can't fault my mentor teacher for not explaining 1930s Alabama; I mean, how's she supposed to know? I'm glad I can provide this insight to my students. (Who am I kidding? I'm just glad I was able to teach history for two days.)
5. TURTLES
Right, you were wondering when I would get to the turtles. So tomorrow morning, around 8 am, I will leave on an epic weekend trip to save the lives of leatherback turtles. I know, I am so selfless to spend another weekend at the beach. We're going to the Atlantic this time, so I get a whole new side of the country to explore!
I'll be sure to post pictures of that whole experience, and please PRAY that my transportation goes well!
Miss you all!
Friday, April 2, 2010
"I'm in love with you." "Erm, I don't think that's what you're trying to say in English."
AWESOME. NIGHT.
Okay so we went out with Katie (Kah-tee, the same way people say my name here), Angela's babysitter, and her friends that are all about 21. They were having a bonfire on the beach, so really, we just found St. Mary's of Costa Rica. Except not, because the stars were out of this world and we were on the Pacific Ocean. But other than that, it was the same. They were mixing drinks on the beach with music and a massive fire that added to the already 90 degree weather. We were pretty shy at first, but tried to use as much horrific Spanish as possible. They totally accepted us! We joked around, and before too long, broke into dance to everything from salsa to Lady Gaga. One of the guys taught me some salsa... which was awesome until he disclosed he was my little sister's age. Whomp whomp. Anyways so we took a ton of pictures, check it out on facebook! When I looked through my pictures after they were taken with some of our new amigos, I accidentally clicked forward to the pictures of the snowstorm. They thought the storm was wild! They took turns flippin
g through my pictures of Jevi and co. in the snow. They were cracking up looking at us!Around eleven, we were pooped. We had a walk of a little less than a kilometer to get back to Angela's, and then we passed out. Seriously, we are lame here, but it's just SO HOT. I was up in the loft, and it was around 90 degrees. However, when you are tired, you are tired. I was out.
My new friends are supposed to friend me on facebook. Get exciteddd! Sadly they are students that don't live around here, so I don't think I'll run into them today. As it's Good Friday, we're going to mass at 6 pm in the town of Nosara. I'm pretty interested to see what that entails!
Side Note: It's really neat how easily we all keep in touch over all parts of the globe. I've chatted with Jeva in Africa and Bailer in New Zealand every single day. It's great! What did people do before gchat and facebook...?
Side Note II: The title of this post refers to what one of the guys said to me as we were talking. I think his English was just rough, or he wants a green card. Either way, I clarified I was not in love with him.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Yoga and Hammocks: The Challenges of Living Abroad
Today was REALLY ROUGH. I woke up around seven thirty and meandered around the house for a while. I'd fallen asleep in my clothes from the night before (not from a wild night, but rather because I couldn't make it through watching a pirated copy of The Proposal), so I quickly changed into my swim suit. Meaghan, Marjorie and I made the executive decision around nine to go to yoga at the Yoga House. We'd gone the morning before to the Nosara Yoga Institute for yoga on the top of a hill with hummingbirds and monkeys (no joke amazing), and we were excited to try out an alternate yoga experience. After vetoing the advanced classes, we settled on Yoga for Surfers and Athletes. Mostly to pick up guys. The walk to the class was about 40 minutes, so we had a good deal of time prior to the start of the class at 12:30. What is one to do at 11 with no plans? Get ice cream. We went back to the place we'd eaten lunch at the day before and snacked on ice cream with the local birds and random dogs. I have been eating Cas flavored sorbet for two straight days and it's legit. It tastes a little like mango+lime+pineapple. But different and more refreshing. Anyways I had it in a cone and it is unbelievable. Unlike yesterday, I was able to finish all of my snack before birds with funky hair attacked. That was nice.
After snacks, we shopped for a bit. I am looking for really Costa Rican stuff, so I'm a little turned off by the overwhelming amount of American goods. I found some SWEET pink parrot earrings that I could see on either Becky or April. Gaudy as sin, but both of you could get away with them. I might go back and buy them tomorrow... they were a solid 5 dollars.
Finally we headed to yoga. I looooved it. Our instructor was a beast of a woman and flexible as anything, but we had a great time. After our class we peaced back to the beach. It was a nice walk back in the sun! The tide was coming in full force though, so I was almost swept out to sea at some points of the walk.
Oh right, forgot an important part! I bought a bracelet! It's a woven teal bracelet with a little turtle carved in wood. It's adorable. I LOVE it. I'm wearing it right now.
I took a solid nap for a few hours in the hammock, and then we did dinner. Kristi made portabello mushrooms and spinach and pasta and grilled pieces of cheese (don't ask, it's crack) and now we're getting ready to go out. Angela's babysitter for Ella is about our age, and a bunch of her friends are in town. I'm thinking we need to go meet them! I'll let you know how that goes!
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