La clase y Puerto Viejo

Tuesday afternoon, Mitzi mentioned she thought the kids were getting used to having me around in the classroom and asked me if I’d like to teach a poetry lesson the next day. I was a little nervous about having such short notice to plan the lesson but it went really well! We looked at the life of Langston Hughes (who is the inspiration for a poetry project the whole fifth grade is doing), read some of his poetry , and then talked about it. The fifth grade is also spending the semester on US American black history, which ties in very neatly and is also very inspirational for the kids to write about concepts like “peace,” “dreams,” and “freedom.” Even though I erased the example poem we did together as a class, a lot of the kids remembered the ones we did together and “used” (I would say “copied”) them in their own poems. Some were basically just regurgitated from what we did together, which was okay, but a few kids really took the writing to heart and came up with some very beautiful poems. One girl in particular shyly took me aside to read some extra poems she wrote after she finished, and I was very moved by how personal and vulnerable they were and that she wanted to share them with me.

Also, all the kids wrote me letters to 1. practice grammar and vocabulary, and 2. tell me about themselves. One of my favorites (because let's be honest, we all have favorites) wrote this one:





In case you can't read it, he signed it "Today my teacher, tomorrow my friend." I LOVE this kid. If you've seen Dirty Dancing Havana Nights, he kinda looks like Diego Luna. I told him that in the cafeteria on the first day of school but he couldn't have cared less. Instead he says "Sometimes wherever I am I look down and find my pencil still in my hand. [We both looked down at the tray of food in his hands with a pencil poking out from underneath.] I don't know, Teacher." The Spanish grammar with English words cracks me up. Plus I love the lilt from their Costa Rican accents. But my absolute favorite is when they say "Ay, Teacher...!" It sounds like affectionately reluctant acceptance of whatever it is I'm telling them to do.

Last weekend about half of us went to Puerto Viejo, which is a beach on the Caribbean side. The area is suuuper Rasta from all the Jamaican influence. We got up at 5 but even still 4 of the 7 of us ended up without seats. We were supposed to stand for the whole 4 and a half hour drive but instead squeezed ourselves into any and all possible nooks and crannies of the bus. This was my seat:





Really, though, the time went pretty fast and we got there by 10:30. Saturday was overcast and rained off and on but it was still really muggy and the ocean was warm. We spent a good part of the day just playing in the waves and getting tousled. Followed by napping in hammocks in the hostel. Sunday ended up being a gorgeous day that just got hotter and hotter. Again, we spent most of it at the beach. One of the girls actually found a couple live sand dollars swimming around (or whatever it is sand dollars do). We also watched some local kids go fishing in the tide pools with baited string attached to water bottles. They just wound the string around the bottles like a reel and tossed out the line. The best part was watching them catch a couple fish. Whoever says you need a fancy reel and bait clearly has never been to Puerto Viejo.

our hostel






boy with fish







Oh, one more thing: on the train ride back I was looking out the window and saw construction cranes like the ones back home. Thought of you, Dad. And George Lucas. :o)