A Honduran Science Class

Reviewed my class one morning,and it occurred to me that we could have the class outside. The topic was plant tropism, and what better way than having my sixth graders wonder around outside our Honduran nature. So we went to look at sunflowers. Kids wondered what exactly made them move, so we discussed phototropism. Along the discussion, I remembered that song that Methodist missionaries taught me a long time ago: "Like a sunflower that follows every movement of the sun, so I turn towards you to follow you my Lord..," there was no need to get into that with my kids but they wondered about my sanity in my humming.

There were the "dormilonas" (mimosa pudica;sleepyheads;tickle-me-plants) waiting to be touched so that they could hide within themselves, the simple explanation is that they do that to protect themselves from foot traffic (cows, goats, humans etc.), there are bunches of them on campus and merely considered weed, I imagine that people actually think of these as special plants elsewhere. The kids were running everywhere touching them as though they had never seen them before, they had, but not in a science class context.

On another day we discussed rocks. I gave them an assignment, to go outside and look for sedimentary rocks and other types if they could find any. I warned them to leave big rocks alone, I didn't want them bitten by snakes or dangerous insects. They were all excited to be outside once again, but this time hunting for rocks. In the end I had a bunch of rocks brought to me with different explanations as to what they were. Amazingly someone found a magnetic rock with bits of shiny gold look-alike pieces (fool's gold we are guessing).

Next up - clouds. We went cloud spotting. We found them around. Cirrus, stratus and cumulus. We also found dragons, sofas, a nose, a bear and someone farting in the skies.

Recently, chicharras (cicadas) began singing their mating songs, and how convenient that we are currently discussing animal behavior and mating behavior specifically. This time there was no need to go outside. I asked them to be silent for a minute and to just listen. The sound had been there all this while, its just that we were not attuned to it. It washed over us increasing in sound gradually. A jarring noise that at first seemed a cacophony became a uniform intoxicating sound, a symphony of maracas. I think that I'm becoming addicted to the sound of these insects. I respect these creatures that spend 17 years underground developing and growing to come out this once and sing for a few weeks to attract a mate.

Off topic - Dulce is Sweet

Dulce - the perfect student. Always two chapters ahead, demands that I check homeworks that I have not assigned yet. Always on time, asking questions that stump the teacher and best of all - always with a contagious smile. She is the leader of her class, intervenes for other's grades, constantly reminds her peers about due homeworks or upcoming tests. In a way, that's what differentiates my sixth graders from my seventh graders. The absence of a peer that reminds, advocates and keep others accountable has drastic academic and behavioral effects.

In turn, and making a huge leap in comparison (if the reader will allow me), but in the spirit that a class is a microcosm of society, the same consequences brought upon by the absence of good leadership fall on a nation as a whole. Take for example, our Honduran President Mel Zelaya.

He lacks foresight, has no accountability and cares less for the Honduran worker. Hondurans are being hit hard by the United State's recession. Just take a look at the labels of your favourite t-shirts or underwear or other garments to figure out that many clothes that Americans wear come from third world countries like Honduras. Heck!!! China is outsourcing its sweatshops to Honduras. If Americans are not buying as they did before, then Hondurans are not producing, and if there is no production then therefore there are no jobs here. 133,000 jobs lost so far (33,000 from garment factories). Mel Zelaya has gone rogue like Venezuelan Hugo Chavez. Trying to be populist, he has exarcebated Honduran economy by instituting an unbelievable minimum wage increase (40-60%). I'm all for more pay for workers specially when it involves international sweatshops that exploit workers, but given the global crisis, this is wrong timing and way too high of an increase in a too short period of time. It's having catastrophic effects for a country where 28% unemployment rate is the norm. At 10%, California should consider itself lucky and for many reasons I rather be unemployed in the States than in Honduras. But I digress, and way off topic and could go on and on about Mel, but for fear of losing your interest let me finish.

My teachers always said that their greatest joy came from knowing that some of us would go and be productive citizens. They felt that they had taken part in developing us as we turned out to be successful in whatever field we chose. I'm starting to experience that as I look at Dulce and others that are similar to her. I can only hope for a better future for Honduras and hope that future leaders like Dulce do not decide to live elsewhere besides her home country. I'm being egoistical and hypocritical, because Dulce is who she is way before I met her and will probably be the same as she goes forward, and I can't wait to go home!!! I'm glad to have taken part in her development. Even if only it means to only have taught her a school year of spelling and science.

Off Topic - Teaching at El Alba #2

I consider myself extremely lucky to have landed a teaching job here in Honduras a couple of weeks after I got off the plane in Tegus. After our tearful goodbyes, I perused the newspaper I had grabbed earlier in the day and looked up potential jobs. Saw an article calling for teachers in Siguatepeque and here I am.

Teaching, is what I had wanted to do for a long time. I still remember that day that made me seriously think about teaching. It was a video on PBS about a teacher who unconventionally taught his classes with very good results. The video must have been made in the fifties or earlier because I remember the film being in black and white. The way he took his students outside and interacted with them and the results he got by teaching differently than his peers made me think that the profession was worthwile. I am sure things are different nowadays what with "teaching to the test" and things of that nature and such (as Arnold will say). I am sure I'll be somewhat disappointed to teach in California specially given this first year experience teaching in El Alba.

First of all, I found that teacher that inspired me to teach, here in Honduras. Well, not exactly him, but he reminds me a lot of the teacher on tv. Mr Cierra as he known by all, is a caring individual, knowledgeable, patient and loved by all students. I remember the first day that I met him. I was given a few books to teach from and was pretty much told "go teach." You can imagine how I felt, but there have been many "sink or swim" situations in my life so I knew how to respond - I needed a guide and I needed someone right away because classes were waiting for me! Of course, I began asking around for the previous science, reading or spelling teachers and no surprise! I had taken their place so they were gone! Who to turn to? Who?

At first, Mr Cierra just brushed me off. I was told to go to him because I would be teaching his homeroom classes and I needed to talk to the guide teacher. My first days were hectic, the same for Mr Cierra back-to-work preparations and so he was too busy for me. Somehow, he gathered that I really needed help and recanted. He sat in my few first classes and gave me pointers. I was nervous throughout this scrutiny. Told me that I was not teaching to college kids and needed to tone down the science for the sixth graders. He showed me how to prepare the weekly and term plans. Taught me to look ahead upcoming months and take out holidays or event days and that I will never finish class books given to me but to go ahead and give it a try. When it came to dealing with parents he said "Think of the conversation like a sandwhich. The soft part comes first where you applaud their child and then you get to the meat of it where you discuss the reason for their visit, lastly you leave the parent with additional praise for the kid." This last advice has come useful since I've had many visits from parents or sibblings throughout the school year. It's not that they do bad (some do), but it's because here at El Alba most parents are concerned about how their kid is doing and drop once in a while to check in - I know! Concerned parents are hard to come by in California public schools.

One last thing that he said lately is "have fun, it's a job but you should be having fun doing it." He'd caught me scolding my class for their refusal to work, I was probably too upset to notice how I was behaving, but that comment pulled me out completely. He was right, so far I'd been having fun, but you know how it is. Some kids get you riled up and the majority pays. In summary I've tried to be understanding with them like I've seen Mr Cierra does, but when they misbehave I've to be strict with them. And in some situations, I know that it's a daily struggle but if you know me you know that I only see it as a challenge to look forward to.

Taking a break from the Story

To all my readers:
Thanks a lot for following my story and for your comments. I know that its disappointing coming to my blog and finding bi-weekly updates. I follow a few blogs myself and there is an unsaid demand that bloggers have to blog before losing people's interest. Those that know me personally will probably keep coming, but for those that don't, then I have to deliver. I've been busy at school and my memory about Belize is now fuzzy. I think that my memories as a kid in Honduras were allowed to be grainy but now that I have arrived to the Belizean part - I have to be more accurate. So, I'm taking a quick trip to visit my "adopted" country (Belize) during Easter week and will now write a few stories about teaching in Sigua. Therefore, my Belizean stories will be more descriptive and include other people in my life. Just picture me going around Belize with a handheld video camera and pen and paper.
Please, do not be confused: I'm taking a break from my immigrant story (25 years ago) and now telling about my current experiences, AND these stories are not going to be chronological but more of a summary of my past 7 months of teaching.
Saludes a tod@s.

Belizean Welcome

From Puerto Cortez we travelled with about twelve others in a "panga." A panga is a small motor boat, used to travel short distances between the Port of Cortez and Valencia Belize. I remember that boat ride very well. My little sister could not take the up and down of the boat as it glided and began hurling her breakfast all over the place. Everybody else kept their distance for fear of being smeared. I could care less. Dolphins were swimming along us! They swam underwater and jump once in a while as they accompanied us. Our boat also made the occasional school of flying fish leap in the air, added on top the constant spray of salt water that our boat made. We approached a coral island to refuel. The dolphins abandoned us the closer we got to the island, and as we got closer the water became clearer and clearer. It became turquoise and it looked like you could reach down below and touch the coral reef that appeared from nowhere. Fishes of many kinds swam below us. We beached on a white sandy coast quickly refueled and moved on to Belize. It was a memorable moment that will define my later life in Belize - a natural paradise with little worries while growing up next to pestering sisters (just kidding girls).

We finally arrived to Belize after the three hour boat ride and made it through customs. It was to be one of the few times that we were together as a whole family. My Mom had gone looking for us in Honduras while my Dad waited for us in the Belizean side. While the five us walked to the upstairs room that Dad had rented, a Creole kid began following us. Then he began saying things I could not understand in a language that will later become my own. One thing we all understood. He was interested in the t-shirt I was wearing - that I loved dearly.

"Maaa, look!! he shouted. "Da bway have wan Bugs the Bunny shut!!!
He began pulling and hanging on my shirt as I ran away scared from him to hide behind my Mom. He meant to tear the shirt of my back!!
"Bugs di Bunny shut!!"
"Bugs di Bunny!!" "Bugs di Bunny!!"
"Gimme di Bugs di Bunny shut!!"
It was a riot as he chased me around and I trying to push people in between. Of course my sisters were are rolling with laughter and my Mom and Dad were having a fun time too.

Welcome to Belize - I guess?

Migration Begins

There are a few things that I remember from the early 80's when I was six years old. Cindy Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun is one, Los Gatos Bravos is another and Ronald Reagan. Cindy Lauper is just another liking of Hondurans for 80's music that is still prevalent even today. The Honduran northern coast is known for Punta music where Los Gatos Bravos were causing a musical upheaval, it was a period of partying for many folks in the coast of Puerto Cortez back then, but I did not really understood why. Honduras was stuck between other revolutions. One had occured in Nicaragua and another was in progress in El Salvador. The country was a launching point for trained Contras (Nicaraguans trained by Americans in Honduras to fight the rebel army in that country), and for counterinsurgency measures against El Salvador's Farabundo Marti army(FMLN). It was Ronald Reagan this and Ronald Reagan that everyday on radio and tv and so there was no way of getting away from it.
Honduras began requiring that every male of age serve its army. Conscription was everywhere and my maternal grandparents did not like the idea because out of their 12 children three were girls and the rest were destined to serve the military. My grandfather Hector did not like where the country was going. I can only guess where he stood politically back then by the nickname he gave me - Sandino (Nicaraguan Rebel). Later in life I asked him why the nickname and he said "Its because the way you stuck to your mom, like the Sandinos loved their country. Nobody could rip you away from your mom." And it was true.
I went everywhere with my mom back then. Along with my dad she was involved with her church and so we went everywhere in Honduras setting up churches or just sizing up locales. My sisters were jealous of me because of this. One time, my little sister and I found ourselves running through streets with my mom in the lead. We were running away from the military which was arresting people that had participated in a riot. My mom's memory is fuzzy of the events back then, and I don't recall if we were part of the ruckus. We were running anyway, and I remember spending a long time hidding under a bed with my little sister listening to the running and shooting outside. Going places with my mom was not easy and this proved to be true later in life.
What did it for my grandparents was the lost of one my uncles who had joined the army. His death took them over to a launching point where it was decided that all the Aguilares were leaving and coming back was not going to be an option. My grandfather personified the love/hate relationship that many Hondurans have with the United States, blamed for all societal ills but its the first place that everyone is headed. My grandparents were herding their family to the US and there was no stopping them. Except that not everyone in their family completely agreed with their decision. For instance, Tia Marin and uncle Rene decided to stay in San Pedro. Both in the older kids section of the family and so with more connections and excuses to stay behind.
Like Moses in the desert, my grandparents lost a few along the way. My uncle Juan Carlos died in Southern Mexico in a boating accident. While swimming in a river, a boat rode over him an split his head. My aunt Olga decided to stay in Mexico City. I guess she liked the city and decided it was good enough to live in. Uncle Gonzalo is in Tecate which is on the border with Mexico and the US. My mom said that it took her family about three years to make it out of Mexico and that after many tries crossing the border illegally, Uncle Gonzalo just gave up and stayed at the Mexican border where he works as an electrician. I don't think he tried hard enough, it must have been easier to cross the border illegaly back then. Everybody else landed in Baltimore, Maryland. Someone had mentioned to them that there was a fishing industry there that offered good money.
This was the early 80's. When Cindy Lauper was singing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and Hondura's economy and politics were tanking. My mom and dad had been spotted by their church as good church-planting material, and so it was decided that they should head out of the country. The decision was easy for Mom. She, being the oldest, had lost her family to migration and there was no reason to stay in Honduras. Fifteen years will pass before we heard anything from them. So while her family toiled through Mexico, my family headed on a different path.

San Pedro Sula Living

I immediately recognized her. She had aged a lot but had not lost the Aguilar look. So there was no way to miss her and her husband as they waited for me at the bus depot in San Pedro Sula. The last that I remember of her was she being very strict, but quickly found that absurd as she hugged me and carried my luggage to the taxi. None of her or what I was to encounter next indicated any rigidity but I instantly felt flushed with pity for her and the situation she currently lives in.

I arrived in San Pedro in August, and it was very hot. San Pedro did not seem any different from Tegus and was only better traffic wise, otherwise it was the same - dirty streets, trash everywhere, over congested, car fumes and an overall feel of a city in a hurry to somewhere except where we now drove along. Tia Mari had spent the past 25 years exactly in the same part of the city and was not going anywhere. That was why it was easy for anyone visiting to get back to her. She said that it helped to be where they were because of her husband's taxi job. It provided him with clients and was close to central park where he paid for a spot to pick up people. Tia is now sixty and showed more than that in age. She walks with a shuffle as if tired of walking even though she goes around only in car for fear of being robbed. Constantly watches channel six which continuously shows dead people or other victims of San Pedro's crime. In fact whenever I visit them, she immediately catches me up on the latest kidnappings, murders, killings, feminicidios (women killings), shootings, stabbings and so on. Things I try to avoid seeing or reading about,which I do not need to worry about in Sigua. She is traumatized! I plainly see in her how people in fear live here and understand why everyone has cable but low quality water supply. It's better to be entertained indoors than demand something essential like water to be in constant supply (and not every other day as is the case in most places including Sigua) and of good quality (not the murky brown). She sits all day reviewing the carnage that she already saw in the evening news yesterday, but this time with more detail in the morning newspapers. She gets up only to prepare food for uncle who because of his job comes in irregularly. Its easy to feel sorry for her, and I have not started on her environment or where she lives.

She is not listed in the phone book for fear of scam artists. I don't blame her. Once, when I was visiting, the phone rang but I was not going to pick up. It was not my business and the call was not mine since I did not lived there, and there was no one at home anyway. But the phone rang and rang. So I picked up and a heavy male voice immediately told me that my family that was crossing through Mexico was being held for ransom somewhere near the United States border and that if I did not wire some money immediately...well lets say that it will not be good. I immediately hung up. I don't blame Tia for not being listed, she probably gets a lot of these calls.

Everything is dying around Tia, and if not she tell tales of the dead as she did tell once about my uncle Rene. Whenever I visit, I'm given a back room with a large bed to sleep in. Once, when I was going to sleep, she began telling me about the last person that slept there, it was my Uncle Rene. She said that Uncle Rene's chronic drinking problem led him to a slow death on that bed. She described in detail for about about an hour or so of how their care had no effect on his passing away. On top of the gun shots, suffocating heat and mosquitoes, I don't remember sleeping that night. I thought to myself during that night, that we were sort of doing the same to her. It was like coming to pay our respect at someone's grave whenever we visited her (I'm not the only one from her family here now after being gone for decades). No matter what we do we cannot stop her slow descent, its like we left her here to die and what we see now is just a specter stripped away from any real spirit she was before.

I have a lot of respect for my Aunt because she was the only one that stayed behind in Honduras when all her 11 siblings and family decided to immigrate to the United States in the early 80's. She made the decision to stay behind in the crumbling society that Honduras was then. She does not regret her decision but desires to see this land where everyone moved to. Only to visit and then come back, she wants to know what's the great to do about the US. Part of the reason I'm now in Sigua is San Pedro. If Tia wanted to scare me, she was successful at first and no pleading of hers would make me stay in San Pedro. I ran out of that city in a hurry, back to that little town I had seen and my way back and from Tegus - Siguatepeque. It reminded me of Big Bear and Big Bear City in California without the lake.