LAST post

done doNE DONE!!!! Well, my tests have been graded, final grades entered, retests taken for those who failed, grades re-entered, books collected and inventory taken, individual pictures taken with each of the 11th graders (as promised, on the last day of school), my farewell speech given at the teachers' farewell party for me today, and decorations taken down; all that's left now is to finish packing my bags and sign the diplomas as soon as the office calls me down ("you're not leaving until we finish these today because you have to sign them"...we'll see what time that'll be). You should see the process we have to go through for end-of-the-year grades...it's the most archaic system I've ever seen...first we figure out grades in our book by hand, then in the computer, then double-check them in the computer, then double-check them with the principal, then print them off and double-check them ourselves with a calculator, then copy them by hand on to a report card, and then sign them. It's a whole thing. But, hey, I'm just about done, and here I sit in my classroom for the last time.

I decided the last day of school is both the worst day and the best day -- the students are absolutely crazy and you can't threaten them with anything, but at the same time, who cares? Because it's the last day. Anyway, the last few days were a bit frustrating and reminded me of why I'm leaving -- the administration in Tegucigalpa decided to come to the school to give these "standardized" tests the last day of school (which, in fact, is why we had school until Wednesday). So the students had tests in math and English -- and it was very frustrating because: 1. They were on the last day of school -- and the students knew they weren't going to count for a grade -- so no one tried or cared. 2. They didn't tell me anything about what was going to be on the language test, so I couldn't prepare my students. 3. Turns out that all the material was on things we covered the first month or so in August, and have not reviewed since then. 4. For some reason they put my in the seventh grade classroom to monitor the tests....wwwwwhhhhy? I have no idea.
So, bottom line is I'm sure my students all failed. Oh well....I guess I'm leaving anyway....it was just frustrating -- not to mention the fact that they told me the test was going to be on Tuesday, so I had to make sure all my students came that day, and then they decided not to come until Wednesday.....well, I won't even get into that.

The last day of school, despite the testing, was fun (and crazy, of course) -- well, when the testing was all done. The basketball team surprised the other basketball coach and I with a huge cake in the shape of a basketball, and all my students brought in a bunch of food (I supplied the cookies, as usual).Then Wednesday night I went with Lorena out to dinner to celebrate (where I saw about half my students, also celebrating), last night I went out to dinner with my family, and tonight I'm going to my family's friends' house because they want to say goodbye. (Now that I'm leaving everyone's my best friend. :)

Basketball cake!

Farm I went to with Lorena 

Dinner...we were laughing because I ordered baleadas and blackberry juice (classic Honduran food) and everyone else ordered hamburgers and coke (classic states food)...

So I suppose this is my last blog post. I can't believe how fast the time went, but that always happens, and I knew I would say that when I was all done. I'm leaving tomorrow morning to take a bus to Tegus, then get on another bus to San Pedro Sula, and then the next morning on a plane back to Grand Rapids. A lot of people have been asking me what I have learned this year, and I suppose since this is my last post I should do some reflecting on my year here.... So, to conclude this blog, adios, thanks for keeping up with me this past year, and here's what I've learned (in essay form...after all, I was an English teacher this year) -- so read it at your own pleasure if you get bored later:

Not what I expected

I really have a hard time asking for help. Just ask Rose, who would tell you about the Amazing Race we went on last year. Normal people, when lost or when trying to find some clue or landmark, would just ask the innocent bystanders on the street who are familiar with the area, but I insist on finding it myself (it’s a miracle she didn’t kill me by the end of the trip). I really have a hard time depending on other people too. Just ask anyone I have worked with on a project, who would tell you that I can’t delegate. Normal people would let other people do some of the work, but I don’t trust anyone to do their part.

And I suppose it’s worked out okay for me—this whole independent thing—until this year. It’s funny, because you would think living in Honduras for the past year—moving here by myself and teaching at a school as the only American teacher—would have made me more independent if anything. I’m away from my family and friends, my language, my home. I have to walk everywhere by myself; I have to do all my lesson planning by myself; I have to make every decision by myself. In so many ways I have felt more alone living here than I have ever felt before in my entire life. The weird thing is that I have also felt more dependent than ever too.

I can still remember my first day at school, when the principal handed me a stack of six huge language books, six spelling books, and six curriculum guides, as well as various teacher guides and quiz/test booklets and quiz/test booklet answer keys, telling me to start planning. And he gave me no classroom to work in and no bookshelf to place them in. I can still remember sitting alone in a classroom hours before the start of school parent orientation, suddenly realizing that all the other teachers had left to go home to change. And I was stranded at school, with no car and with no knowledge even of telling a taxi driver how to get to my house. I can still remember messing up my grade book and re-writing the whole thing over again—no one told me I had to use a green pen to record homework, a blue one to record quizzes, a black one to record tests, and a red one to record any failing grade.

I’d be lying if I told you this is what I had expected. Who goes to a third-world country hoping to learn to be dependent on other people? Rather, we go thinking others will be dependent on us—and maybe that’s even the reason we go. We are the ones hoping to help, to save the world. I suppose that’s why it never occurred to me that I was actually going to have to be the one asking for help. Can I borrow a shelf in your cabinet to fit my books? Can you give me a ride home? Can you show me how to organize my grade book? Can you tell me how to pay the bus fee at the bank? Can you show me where the supermarket is?

It took me a while to learn to ask for help, and it wasn’t easy. It’s also taken me a while to learn that I’m just as bad at depending on God as I am at depending on others. From the outside, it might look like I moved here because of a strong faith—I was doing what I felt God was calling me to do. And I wasn’t afraid because I was depending on Him to take care of me. I suppose that’s probably what it looked like, and even what it looked like to me. But looking back on it now, I realize that I actually probably moved here for the opposite reason: to do my own thing, to exercise my own independence. I never imagined that living here would be an exercise in the exact opposite.

The majority of my favorite verses and stories in the Bible now don’t have to do with God’s promises to us. They aren’t the ones that tell me that God is always with me; that He’s going to protect me; that He’s going to guide my life so I shouldn’t fear. Instead, I love those stories and verses about people just like me, people who struggle with trust. People who are forced to depend on God, people whose lives don’t end up in the ways they thought they would. People like Moses, who initially said “Here I am,” (Exodus 3:4) but followed up with, “What if they do not believe me or listen to me?” (Exodus 4:1) And, even later, a feeling of betrayal: “O Lord, why have you brought trouble upon these people? Is this why you sent me?” (Exodus 5: 22) Or those songs like “Breath of Heaven,” that have Mary asking, “Do you wonder, as you watch my face, if a wiser one should have had my place?” I’m most comforted when I hear stories about people like me—people who wonder if God is thinking He made a mistake in asking them to do something for Him. Somehow those people ended up depending on God, and somehow God carried those people through too. That’s what’s most comforting: the knowledge that God took people of little faith just like myself and asked them to do great things. They just had to learn to depend on Him.

After this year, and after deciding not to come back for another year, and now that I’m trying to figure out what to do for next year, I’ve decided I’m actually going to try to depend on God. I’m not sure what plans He has for me, but they probably aren’t going to be what I’m expecting. But I will try my best to depend on Him. And I think I might just be a little bit better at that than I was a year ago.