As we sit in our 90-degree apartment sipping care package tea and enjoying fresh homemade peanut butter cookies, it seems like a good time to think about where we’re at in our Peace Corps service, our successes, frustrations, and our plans for the future. Sometimes, when we’re rushing around from school to co-planning session to community class to school again, we find it hard to take a moment to reflect, to appreciate and think critically. (And lately, to write blog posts!)
Motorcyclists, cruising by with their helmets safely strapped on their elbows, leave us (literally) in their dust as we pick our way through the carcasses of unfortunate toads splayed out in acrobatic positions the gravel road. Sometimes we feel like those toads, hit hard by life, wondering exactly why we threw ourselves blindly into harm’s way.
Kevin’s mom came to visit us last week and we had a wonderful time introducing her to our life in La Rambla. We’re coming off of the visitor high now though, re-immersing ourselves in our work and feeling the familiar excitement of another awesome community class, the thrill of a breakthrough with a local teacher, and the contentment that comes with riding past the elementary on my bike and hearing all of the children scream, “Hi Megon! Bye bye, Megon!”
We’ve been fortunate to have experienced quite a bit of success in our endeavors here so far. We’ve built up a dedicated group of 20-something community class students whose warmth and devotion to learning English amaze us daily. We’ve started to see growth in some of our teachers who have put forth the effort to plan and co-teach with us on a regular basis. We’ve made good friends within the community, friends we can rely on for support and guidance whenever we need it.
We feel that our community integration process is going well. We’ve built enough trust with the new pulpería owners, whose store sprung up shortly after Adolfo’s death and helped pull the community together again, that one day they lent us bags full of food and household items to use in our community class during our buying and selling unit. People we’ve never met before have started to approach us about the graduation exam prep course we’re starting this weekend. It seems we’ve been accepted.
It’s not all happiness and success around here though. We get sick. Ten months in the country doesn’t mean we’re immune to parasites, apparently. We’ve had some seriously frustrating days too, days when we feel like no matter what we do, our impact on Costa Rican education isn’t going to be enough. Often, teachers and administrators can’t find the time to work with us or blow off meetings we’d planned weeks in advance.
Sometimes they use us as teacher’s aids or have us babysit their students while they relax. Some teachers have even told us that they’ve given up on this year already and that they’d rather work with us next year. (And there’s still more than 3 full months of school left.) There are days when we feel like all of our effort is wasted.
Motorcyclists, cruising by with their helmets safely strapped on their elbows, leave us (literally) in their dust as we pick our way through the carcasses of unfortunate toads splayed out in acrobatic positions the gravel road. Sometimes we feel like those toads, hit hard by life, wondering exactly why we threw ourselves blindly into harm’s way.But then we’re reminded that it’s the little things that really have made this Peace Corps experience worthwhile. Earlier this month, a mother from our community English class approached us to ask if we’d mind hosting a surprise birthday party for her 9-year old daughter. The party was a lot of fun. Kevin decorated with balloons and a huge “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” sign, we ate pizza and upside-down pineapple cake and played Monopoly. Then the mother started to cry, telling us how much the special moment meant to her daughter and her and how much they needed the distraction from their tough life.
That felt pretty good.
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