tings.

In the village:
Sheep graze in the yard in front of the classrooms. I sometimes trudge through the high grass around the building, in search of cell phone reception in a prickly field behind my office, just to hear a familiar voice from home.
I'm cutting, gluing, planning, as a dragonfly and black moth battle for a spot on the windowscreen.

I eat the typical Belizean rice and beans with fried plantains and fresh cucumbers, washed down with brightly colored juice containing 4 heaping spoonfuls of sugar- I watch her make the concoction in disbelief, but I drink it because it's put in front of me: a full glass. The food is delicious.

The students laugh often and smile massively when they see me; they never fail to call "Teacher Jenny!" They love story time and pile into a small room to be entertained for 10 minutes twice a day. They do all the movements I ask them too and fill in all the blanks I leave for them. They bring me little flowers and want to spend their breaks in my office touching my things and holding my hand. Kids
shout things like "My shirt is red!" sometimes when they see me because of the sentences we've practiced. It's absurd and makes me laugh. I brought my camera one afternoon and they were obsessive hams. The youngest ones continually request "duck duck juice" and "pokey."

The staff has welcomed me warmly, transforming the office into a small classroom just for me: blackboard, markers, tape, posterboard, chairs, a small table. This is a massively gracious gesture and I am so thankful.

I have learned that I'm terrible at making corn tortillas.
I have learned that teaching students to read... students who may have no one to help them with their English but me... is hard. I'm working with 8 grade levels and there are countless levels within each group. Feels damn near impossible some days.
I have learned how to make a broom. Chickens darted across the road as I went to my village host's parent's house. Her father helped me (broom-making is the family business). Cutting the straw with the knife wasn't easy; the man told me "You need to drink more milk!" I went home with a new little broom and a red rash on my arm from the straw.


In town:
Ballet class is good.... though I forgot how hard it is on my body. We have a nice wood-floor room; we use plastic chairs for barre. The girls seem to be enjoying it, and the parents are happy it's offered.

The host family just bought a vehicle, which is pretty big and exciting news (we just borrowed Grandad's before). We all piled into the van and cruised town for an hour tonight just because we could.

In Belize City:
I attended a Literacy Training meeting in the city. When all was said and done, I stood in the aisle on the bus ride back up north, while the bus blared Bob Marley's "Legend." I stared out the window at the river, men with machetes, listened to the music and was reminded that this is my life.