Mazapan School

It's too easy to post only the highlights of your life onto a blog, and I know I've been guilty of this. I also know that I will continue to be guilty of this.

I want to now highlight more of the place in which some days I spend from 6:45am to 5:30pm. [And yes, I have a newfound appreciation for all of my former and present teachers, that is forrrr sure.]

Here are some of my favorite poems written by my eighth graders:

Returning by: M. C.
Dropping from the sky
I say goodbye
and fall to the great mother lake

Afternoon by I..

Winter afternoon,

Unfinished dreams fade away

By the fireplace.

Religion by L.E.

Will my religion take me to heaven?

Or is that religion better and mine or least?

Are religious persons better?

Will religion make world peace?

I think religions are good and bad as a fact.

Why do we spend so much time talking about how to better our world or how to make peace?

I think it will be better to take acts.

Why do we spend so much time reading the Bible, Torah, or any religious book?

Is that what God on you will look?

Will God count the hours you spend reading these books or will God count your actions?

Religion can’t be fractions, nor the world should be.

If all those words at last were to be only words,

How would you feel?

Let that white bird not be a symbol, let it be real.

and last, but certainly not least: 

Why are you Everywhere? By A Special Young Man. 

Who are you?

Why am I seeing you everywhere?

Is it love that makes us see each other?

Or are you just a stalker that wants to see my beauty?

Oh, and some new ones from my seventh graders:

Green Dinosaurs by W.N.
Dinosaurs are green
because they like to eat beans


These people really are [mostly] a joy to spend my days with.

Mazapan is picturesque. The approximately 350 students from pre-k to 12th grade take classes in 1 of 7 houses like this. My classroom happens to be on the top floor of the building on the right. All of the well-trafficked thoroughfares are covered with that green awning because we live in the tropics.


And here are some pictures of me doing that whole teaching thang:

 The woman at the well listening to the words of futbol-jersey-wearing Jesus.

Explaining a particular poetry station to my 7th graders. Wait. Espera. Is that a crazed look on my face?

Ooooh yes it is. I've come to wear it frequently and well, if I do say so myself.

New pictures are below, and I think that's all for a while my dear friends.

Full Moon

Tropical Autumn

Lluvia

Some of the best moments of my life have involved rain.

I remember my mom letting me wade through a huge parking-lot-lake without shoes on when I was little enough to feel like Pocahontas in a blonde wig. I remember standing on the porch with Dad watching storms in awe. I remember the August storm on College Avenue last year. And I remember the hitchhike rain of 5 days ago.

Four of my colleagues and I decided to spend the majority of our day off traveling up the mountains to Río Cangrejal, which happens to be one of the premier rafting rivers in Central America. Once there, I enjoyed some wonderful sitting, jumping, and swimming. Then my group spent a few hours at a restaurant feasting on quite the delectable vista (see below). Rather then spending an hour of waiting, and 2 and ½ dollars of money taking a taxi home, my experienced friends said that the only good way to get home is: to Hitchhike.

Parents: cue the scolding.

God: cue the raining.

We raised one thumb each (which I then learned is a universal symbol) to a passing truck. He said we could hop on in, and so we did.

If I were an experienced local and had a bunch of gringos in the back of my truck, I’d probably do the same as our driver. Because of my curious nature, I’d drive over as many craters in the dirt road as I could find to see how that infamous American badonkadonk really could cushion itself. Because of the pouring rain and my compassionate heart, I’d drive as quickly as possible so hot showers could be available to those cold-blooded North Americans ASAP. And because of grief over the loss of my pigs that used to accompany me in my truck, I’d continue at such a rapid pace just to hear those squeals once more…

After just 15 minutes passed, we were safely back in the city and pounded on the side of truck to have our driver stop. I moved my lips in a “gracias” sort of fashion, and  realized I hadn’t stopped smiling until that moment.

Homage to the Shadows*

      To all who read this and/or have been my friend, thank you for choosing to love me. You have loved me so well throughout these months in word and deed.
      Words have a sad reputation of being empty. However, I know how sincerely- how fully- you have said these words; they are like the constant shadows cast from embodied actions on a cloudless day. I can't replicate all of the shadows, but I want to thank you for saying:

"How did you sleep?"

"How was your day?"

"Can I photocopy that for you?"

"Ms. Grace, you've gotten so much better. I don't get confused at all anymore!"

"I really want to cyber-hug ya." 

"It is my intention that you will always have a home here. You will always be family."

"I really do hope you are doing well and I'd love to talk on the phone sometime upon your arrival. 

You are a dear person to me Gracie" 

"I was thinking of you the other day because I attempted to climb a tree and didn't fall! ...and I think, 'Wouldn't Gracie be proud.' "

"I think of you often, especially when..." 

 "I´ve been thinking a lot about our weekend and I think it will be really important"

"Praying so much."

 "and my next comment after she almost gagged was, that was a Grace McCutcheon comment." 

"Shoot me some prayer requests when you can!"

"Dear dear friend,

   I was just sitting here thinking of you and couldn't get up before I wrote to you.  There is a beautiful storm brewing outside the window...the sky is steel grey and the light green trees have taken on a silver tint as the wind flips their leaves over.  And yet, there is a golden light that washes over all this...This storm I'm watching feels like this passage...how our Father, more loving and powerful than we will ever know, comes in light, bringing healing to this earth, triumphing over the darkness and storms of this present age, to set us free for joy this new life brings. May you be filled with joy." 

"I love her so much, and I pray that she would feel the prayers I've been praying for her. Lord continue to help her do the work out there and safely come back to us soon :) amen."

"How are YOU?Excited to see you!Please let me know your thoughts."

"Are you bringing a working cell phone for emergencies?

Do you have pepper spray?

Have fun."

I cannot love life. I love the author of it.

I cannot pay homage to those who make me relationally rich,  but to the one who has authored and enabled such loving relationships.


Author's note*

Though most of the words in this piece are not mine, I spent more time crafting this post than most. I wondered how will people read this? Is this boasting about my quality of friends? Will people feel left out if I didn't quote them? Is this plagiarism?  and more.

I am convicted now that this is a worthwhile post. 

Please do not deny the remarkable love that has been given to me in these words.
Please do not suppose this remarkable love has been given to me because I am remarkable.
I am not.
I want this to be a witness that this sincerity of love is REAL,
and the community from which it flows exists.
If you don't have this and want it, it's available to you.

You only have to ask.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."

"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

A Classic

You all ready for a classic “If I had stayed in the US I’d never…” list?  Ready or not, here it comes.

I would never:

-have a personal bathroom, or step down into my shower.

-converse in such an incredibly friendly manner. Por ejemplo (for example), I said to a passing stranger on the street, “Good evening." She promptly replied, “How are you my love?”

-start and finish 4 books in 12 days; having few friends has its perks (this was during the observation part of my practicum and would in no way be possible now)

-cook during the school year ( I <3 my cafeteria). Here, my cooking is better than it’s ever been…mostly because before, it never has been.

-be tempted to buy small animals before 6:45 am. As if it’s not hard enough for me to drive by those great big PUPPY stores in the US, here they hold bunches of puppies on the corner as I go to and from work! And with this inflation, I’m sure they only cost 20 bucks.

-say, “Then Jesus saved the whole world from their fish.”

-learn the Spanish word for plunger. àgross implications

-watch Alf on an after-school television program (that one’s for you Jess and Dan)

-make my bed ever day

-hear an 8^th grader ask in utter nonchalance, “Should we do the skit in English or Spanish?”

-mime “live birth” in front of my host family and 15 other strange, though smiley, women. I do love a good game of babyshower charades.

-wash my dishes with the neatest little soap-in-a-tub, where the sponge lives happily and so efficiently ever after

-cook lunch (the main meal here) for four at least once a week. I think I already said something like this.

-have seen a 5 gallon tub of Cheese Puffs sold at Honduras’ version of Office Max  (this one's for you ULs)

A link

https://sites.google.com/site/mrlightsclass/

Here is a little link to my classroom website. Feel free to look around; the homework for all of my classes is posted daily, and there is a little "Get to know Ms. Grace" link on the left.

Thank you for all of your prayerful support of my journey thus far. Really, it means so so much. May you be blessed today with a renewed sense of hope, joy and love.