Love and Memories

My mom and sister are here, visiting me. Take about reframing, recapturing perspective! All of a sudden I am talking, striking up conversations, making friends with people I haven't met before and I am understanding more than I ever thought I would...and I am being understood. I can speak Spanish! Who'd've guessed!

Especially with my family here (I said my family is here meeting my other family when we were in Calle Real) I am realizing and seeing just how at home I am here. How much I love the people here, how much i am loved.

I am just going to put here an excerpt from one of my reflections for my praxis class...memories :)


Roxana was angry at me this morning. The star chart must have been blown off the wall and so we had to create a new one, and I had to ask who had how many stars. Blanca and Karina both had 8 and I knew that, but for the others…When Roxana saw others had 8 and she had 5 redrawn, she refused to participate because I didn’t give her any stars. In her eyes, being treated unfairly by someone she trusted. What to do with that?
Blanca, who is about ten, is another of the girls in my morning class. The first word that comes to mind with her is lista: smart, clever, dying to learn, always ready to show what she knows, to dive headlong into the day’s lesson or activity. Log straight black hair, a small mouth, and very big eyes. Often she stays after to help me clean up. Often she is the only who has done her homework. But there is much more to her, this ten year old, than a thirst to learn, she has an energy, a desire to be recognized, a sweetness, and a little bit of a bratty know-it-all-ness which is all the more endearing. She has taken to repeating my instructions to the class in a way that is somewhat mocking and somewhat bossy.
All of them, Roxana, Bea, Blanca, Karina were making fun of Vanesa this morning, another ten year old, as she was an ARENA supporter while the other four are Mauricio aficionados. Normally quiet, normally very unsure of herself (constantly telling me “no puedo”…”no puedo escribirla” or “No puedo jugar esto”), today she retreated even more inside of herself. As class went on, I could see her shutting down more and more and more, withdrawing. At the end of class, we all talked about the need to respect each other, especially those who support a different political party. This was not received well. We talked a little more, class ended. Before Vanesa left, I asked her if I could visit her house later. She brightened up instantly, began to smile, and just relaxed.
Jorge is the youngest in my afternoon class. Usually he is kind of with us, kind of doing is own thing (whether it be coloring or running around or just day dreaming). Whenever I call him back to us, he looks at me, gives me this angelic, toothy smile, participates for five minutes and then is gone again. Today, he came up behind me, monkey-grabbed on to my legs with his arms and legs and then started giggling when I started to walk with him. I stopped and he peered around my legs, smiling, still laughing. Marina is also in my afternoon class and she, there is no other way to put it, is simply impish, sprite-like, always wanting to play, always pushing the line, but with a smile much like Jorge’s.