And then I thought, "OHMYGOD. I'm going to die. I didn't get a rabies shot."

The last couple of weeks have provided WONDERFUL weather, so I often find myself slathering on sunscreen (SPF 30 - for my mother) and spending the days or afternoons outside. My cheeks and nose have adopted a permanent hue of pink. My students make fun of me. One of them asked me today if I wished I was black. Excuse me? I had no idea how to respond, so, I turned it back on her: "Well, do you wish YOU were black?" She said no, she likes the color of her skin (I would describe it as a light mocha), so I said that I liked the color of my skin too. THAT was awkward.

On Friday, inspired by the beautiful weather and the excess amount of stress that my job has dealt me, I decided to run. I know, I know. I've never done anything of the sort in my life, but I thought that I should have a positive outlet for all of the negative emotions that I have after school (mostly FRUSTRATION). So, I put on some running capri pant-things (that I've previously used as pajamas), found a tank top, dug my Nikes out of my closet, made a "running" playlist on my iPod, rubbed some sunscreen on my face and shoulders, and set off.

As soon as I stepped outside, I started sweating (direct equatorial sun-rays? HOT), and my "look at me becoming a runner" attitude wilted just the tiniest bit. I gave the security guard a little wave, and pushed play. Not even kidding, half a block from my house, a stray dog (there are a million) starts barking. Now, usually the dogs will just bark at you, but remain in their place, as you walk/run (in my case "light jog") by. Not this one. Before I knew it, I was legit being chased by this dog. The whole episode lasted probably a total of 15 seconds, but in that time I: turned around and started RUNNING (REALLY running) the other way, screaming loud enough that I could hear myself over my iPod (which was loud), and then I thought, "OHMYGOD. I'm going to die. I didn't get a rabies shot."

To make the situation even more embarrassing (God forbid I be alone), the security guard came out of his port-a-potty sized hut and asked me if I was ok. NO I am NOT ok. DO you see that BEAR-sized dog (it was probably actually the size of... who am I kidding, I don't know anything about dogs. But it was between a Jack Russel Terrior [miss you Pixie and Perdy!] and a yellow lab) barking, baring it's teeth, and RUNNING AFTER ME?!?! I smiled and kept running. The dog stopped chasing me when I got out of it's turf.

I slowed down to a walk and was DYING (but so happy to be alive). After I stopped sprinting for my LIFE, I realized that I was running faster for that fifteen seconds than I thought I was. WHEW I was out of BREATH, and I could feel my face THROBBING in the heat. And OBVIOUSLY I was sweating. Nevertheless, I have become a dedicated runner - as in the I don't run up that street anymore, and I've left my house in my running gear 4 of the last 5 days, come back sweating disgustingly with my face redder than I've ever seen it, and woken up sore the next day. Yippee.

On Saturday, I was out of my house most of the day (running for a small portion) helping students with their Open House projects. When I came back, Olga, the maid, met me at the door: "Teacher Sarita! I have a surprise for you in your bathroom. I know you will love it." Nervous? I was too.

THIS is what I found:

Thanks, Olga. Now every time I walk into my bathroom, I start laughing.

At school this week, it's been quite hectic. We've started the entire year review, which is horrible, especially since their trimester exam is only on the last two units. It doesn't make sense, but then a lot of things in this country still boggle my mind. So anyways, I don't even know what I was doing, but my head snapped up from my desk to a shriek that I know all too well: David. I don't know HOW this happened, but David, somehow, got white-out EVERYWHERE. All over his hands, the floor, his FACE, his pencil case, the girl next to him - EVERYWHERE. After I yell his name, he looks up at me with that dopey grin. What a kid.

Speaking of David, last Friday, the kids had to take a unit test. Part of the grammar they learned was the correct form for sentences using "wish" and then regrets. So, on the test (I have to make them, and it's awful), the kids had to write five of their own wishes, and 4 of their own regrets. Here are some, for your reading pleasure. Notice a common theme? Me too.

WISHES
- I wish that I hit David and his stupid bubble gum. (I commented "Me too!" on that one)
- I wish I ate a big hot dog.
- I wish I caught that wild cat.
- I wish David popped his bubble gum in his eye.

REGRETS
- I should have crushed David's project.
- I shouldn't have gone to Australia. I got hit by a kangaroo! Ouch!
- I shouldn't have eaten that fried chicken. I feel really sick.
- I should have popped David's bubble gum in his face.

We love David! At least they did alright on the grammar?

Until next time,
Sara the dedicated (ask me in a week if I'm still "running") runner.

"No, Diego, it's a 'bling-ring'."

Every Monday through Thursday, I tutor nine year old Edison. On Monday, he came into my little closet of a classroom and starting waving his hand in my face. He was wearing a ring made out of a one dollar bill. He let me see it, and while he was writing on the board, I made my own. Every time he did something right, we would make fists and do the fist-pound, except Edison made a noise similar to the light saber movement (ask Peter or my brother to do it - I can't) and scrunched his face all up. The power of the ring, apparently, is very strong. I didn't feel it like he did.

After his class was over, I put the ring in my bag, because there was no way that I was going to wear it in public.

Every day after tutoring Edison, I catch a bus home. Now, as you know, my bus experiences haven't been pleasant. The stop I'm at is about 3 stops before it gets PACKED, so about 53% of the time, I'm able to get a seat, which I LOVE, because my bag is heavy, and I don't feel AS ill.

On Monday, I caught the bus like I usually do, and was able to get a seat right away. I was wedged (not exaggerating) between an OLD man (like, may-have-met-Jesus old) and a woman with her what looked/sounded like a 3 year old daughter. As I was sitting there, the old man kept giving me his two-tooth grin, and the little girl just kept STARING at me. I kept looking straight ahead, feeling very awkward, and VERY out of place.

As I'm sitting there, beginning to sweat because the bus was getting fuller, and apparently no one believes in opening the windows, I feel something on my hair, just a swift movement like a bug or something. This was no bug. It was the three year old girl. I thought it was an accident. I kept looking ahead. I feel it again. This time, there is no mistaking that it is this little girl, petting me like a dog (and we all know how much I LOVE dogs). Now, if I were her mother, I would have swatted her hand down and said, "Leave the poor, sweating white girl alone!", but as I looked over, I saw Madre sitting there grinning at her daughter - God's OBVIOUS gift to the world.

As I continue sitting there, more awkwardly than ever, trying my hardest to ignore this little piglet that keeps touching me, I hear her say to her mother, "Mommy, is her hair REAL?!" Madre just smiled and said "Yes, my love." Yes, you idiot, it's real, you've been touching it for the last ten minutes. I wish I was kidding when I tell you that for the entire 27 minute bus ride this girl was touching my hair. I wanted to smack her.

Today, as I was looking through my bag for a pencil during class, I found the ring that I made with Edison. So, I put it on. I suddenly turned into the coolest teacher ever. I decided that next week since it's just review, I'm going to teach the kids to make one. While they were reading today, Alfredo gave me a dollar and I made him a ring too.

I was sitting in the teacher's lounge, just laughing at my ring, and Diego comes in. So I show him and laugh. He laughs too, and gives me a dollar. He wore his ring on his pinky for the rest of the day, and every time I looked at him I just burst out laughing. He was calling it his dollar ring, but I kept telling him, "No, Diego, it's a 'bling-ring'." This made him laugh even more. I love that I'm thug enough to be wearing bling made out of dolla billz.

On my way to tutoring today (Edison, that little donkey, didn't show up), I realized that I didn't have enough money for the cab. I was a dollar short. As I was looking through my bag I thought, "WOW it's a good thing I'm wearing this bling-ring! I can take a cab!" So I paid for the cab with my ring. I felt hella cool.

OH, speaking of dollahs, my students have been asking me to speak in a British accent. Ummmmm. No. They don't understand why I won't, and in reality it's because it's EMBARRASSING, and all I can think about is how my sisters and I used to speak in British accents all the time when we were little. This one time, when I was in 3rd grade, we went to Disney World, and at one of the water parks, Jenna and I decided to speak in British accents all day. Mom yelled at us because there was actually a British family near us. Then we got all embarrassed and didn't go back to the towels ALL day because we didnt' know if they'd heard us. I'm sure they did.

Until next time,
Sara with skillz and dolla billz

"Teacher, will you miss your mother on Mother's Day?"

This was the most asked question that I received last week, which is normal, considering Mother's Day is all over the TV here, and everyone is doing something with their families. Yes, I will miss my mother a LOT on Mother's Day.

Holidays, no matter how big or how small, are the days that I am the most homesick. They don't even have to be holidays, really. I found myself missing home terribly on Friday when Taylor was crowned Prom Queen, and I couldn't see in person how beautiful she looked or the look of surprise on her face as they announced her name. So today, in an attempt to keep myself busy enough to not sink into a sad and lonely state, I went to an artesian market, made a few purchases and read in the park until clouds covered the sky and it looked like it may rain. Despite the fact that I was out and about, I was - and still am, for that matter - thinking about my mom, and all of the mothers that are out in the world.

I have had the pleasure of getting to know mothers from not only the United States, but from all parts of the world. All of these mothers are the "best mom in the world!", and this is true - each mother is the best mother in the world to her children. I can proudly say, that I too, have the best mother in the world.

As many of you know, I have been babysitting since the now-illegal age of 10 years old. During high school, I swore up and down that I would NEVER be a parent like my own mom was: a classic "mean mom" who gave us a curfew and punished us if we went past it, who wouldn't let us see our friends on Sunday because it is "family day", and who never let us sleep past 9AM on weekends. But, after caring for other people's children and having a very intimate view of how other mothers function, I realize that I have become more like my mom than I ever thought I would. And do you know what? I'm OK with that.

My mom always made family a priority, and now, being so far from my family, I couldn't be happier. Because of this, I can honestly say that my siblings are some of my closest friends. People who know my family have often told me that we are "abnormally close" and get along "surprisingly well". Thank you, Mom, for giving me all 6 of my wonderful siblings.

My mom also forced politeness upon us, making us hug all of our relatives upon leaving any sort of family occasion, and threatening our lives if we didn't behave in church. Although sometimes the threats didn't work (silent laughter fits in the middle of mass, anyone?), people who have known us "since [we] were born!" come up to my parents in church and congratulate them on how well-behaved we are. To be honest, we've gotten worse as we've gotten older, but still, it's nice to hear that you're polite once in awhile. Thank you, Mom, for beating politeness into me.

Among many other things, my mom gave me a mind of my own. If she didn't love and support me as much as she does, I would never have had the opportunity to be living and teaching in a foreign country. She wasn't wild about the idea of me coming here, but she never once told me no. She never even asked me if I was sure that I was making the right decision. My mom saw that I wanted to do this, and she respected it, never once telling me that she didn't want me to leave. Thank you, Mom, for letting me think for myself.

As I just pass the four month mark of being in Ecuador, I sit here realizing how blessed my siblings and I are, for having the best mom in the world.

We don't tell our mothers enough how much we appreciate them and how much we really love them. Don't just do it today - do it as often as you can.

So, to all of the wonderful mothers in the world who love their children, we love you too.

Happy Mother's Day.

"Teacher, you will be a good mother."

First - I added the pictures from Diego's camera of our weekend in the country. Click on the link above, and then they're in the album called "My wonderful weekend in the country". Enjoy!



Now - I'm sure you're wondering why one of my students told me that I'm going to be a good mother, especially after last week's episode of smacking a kid (David) in the forehead with the door. Please read on.

The drama of this past week has revolved around one main character: David. This poor kid is one of the class clowns, but instead of just being the funny guy, he gets picked on constantly by others. I'll admit that most of the time he brings it on to himself, but some of the things that have happened to him!

The kids aren't allowed to chew gum in my class. This is a rule that has been set by the school, but I enforce it mostly because I can't stand to hear them smacking their lips, blowing bubbles, and snapping their gum. And the gum they chew isn't just chewing gum like Trident or Orbit (my personal favorite). It's BUBBLE gum that they buy at a little stand near the cafeteria. It comes in gum ball form, and they end up with a huge wad of gum in their mouths that they can't even BEGIN to chew discreetly.

I've begun starting the class saying "If you have gum, spit it out now. This is your only chance." So, half the students groan, tell me I'm horrible, and spit out their gum. The same students every day. David and Jahir always spit out their gum at this point. But 5 minutes after sitting down, they put ANOTHER piece of gum in their mouths. Really? You KNOW I'm going to tell you to spit it out. And half the time, when I tell them AGAIN, they say, "BUT TEACHERRRRRRRRRRR, it's a new pieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeece." I tell them "You KNOW I'm going to make you spit it out. It's not MY fault that you're throwing your money away AS WE SPEAK." David and Jahir always take multiple trips to the garbage can to spit out their gum.

David was annoying everyone in class on Monday, and, unfortunately for David, he was being annoying when Jahir had to spit out his third piece of gum. Instead of putting it in the garbage can, he PUT IT IN DAVID'S HAIR. Peanut butter, anyone? David starts screaming like a girl (I'm not kidding - yesterday he even said, "Teacher, do you want to hear me scream like a girl?" And then he lets out this piercing shriek.) and yelling "TEACHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR DID YOU SEE WHAT JAHIR JUST DO TO ME?!?!" So I scold Jahir, fighting to keep a straight face, and I begin to pick the gum out of David's hair.

On Tuesday, David thought that he figured out a way to keep his gum when I told him he had to spit it out: put the gum at the very back of his throat, so when he opens his mouth to show me that it's not there I don't see it, and then cough it up when I go back to my desk. Well THAT blew up in his face.

I told David to spit out his gum, so he faked it, putting his new plan into action. I am not as stupid as the kids think I am. I KNEW that David didn't spit out his gum, and so I inspected his mouth longer than usual. I knew he "swallowed" it. When I walked away, David, being satisfied because HE thinks that I think that he spit out his gum, starts coughing to cough up this wad of gum. He was coughing more than usual. It turns out that the wad of gum traveled too far down David's throat. He realized that he couldn't cough it up. He was standing by the garbage can holding his throat coughing. The kid was literally choking on his gum. I didn't know what to do.

A kid named Sergio - with a name like that he even SOUNDS like he would be someone's knight in shining armor, and it turns out that he was David's - LEAPED up from his desk and begins POUNDING on poor, poor David's back. The gum landed on the floor. David's eyes were watering, but he was laughing really hard none the less. I guess it takes a near-death experience for the kid to learn to just spit out his fricking gum.

Wednesday, I thought that David would be a new man and NOT put a new piece of gum in his mouth after I told him to spit it out. Wrong. But oh well. At least he didn't try swallowing his gum every time - he just spit it out, wad by wad.

On Wednesday, all of the kids in David's class had little clay fetuses that they made for a different class (tutoria, but I have no idea what that means). They were actually really disturbing and gross, mostly because they were just little clay babies with umbilical cords coming out of their stomachs. David had one. "Sara, I want you to meet my son," he said to me upon entering class. (Side note: David is the only student that calls me just Sara and not Teacher or Teacher Sara. The kid kills me.) I told David that I would babysit his son during class, because I knew that these ugly fetuses were going to be a distraction.

I was partially right. It turned out that the CLAY caused the distraction.

Throughout the class, the kids were throwing clay at each other, David of course being the main culprit. Apparently, on David's way up to my desk to ask me a question, he threw a tiny piece of clay at Katya. When David got to my desk, Katya followed him. Before I knew it, Katya is RUBBING a pea-sized piece of gray clay into David's hair. Now I am completely aware that a pea is NOT that big. It gets bigger and messier, however, when being rubbed into someone's hair. David starts screaming like a girl and rubbing at his hair, making the situation much worse than it may have been had he let me handle the situation.

So, for the next five minutes of class, I helped students coming up to my desk with their worksheets while picking clay out of David's hair. Upon this scene, Cristian, another student, comes up to my desk and says, "Teacher, you will be a good mother." Thank you, Cristian, but in all honesty, if the way I teach/"take care" of my students is any reflection on the kind of mother I will be, I probably shouldn't have children. I DID get all of the clay out of David's hair in the end.

The worksheet that the students were working on have to do with wishes - the topic of the lesson we're on. I found the worksheet on the internet. The students had to fill in the blanks with a verb in the past tense. Example: "I wish I ________________ Chinese. Shopping in Beijing is hard!" Now, the kind of answer that this statement is prompting is "could speak" or "spoke" in the blank. These are two sentences that I got back when a couple students asked me to look over their sheet: "I wish I wasn't Chinese. Shopping in Beijing is hard!" and "I wish I could be Chinese..." I started laughing SO hard at the "I wish I could be Chinese." sentence, especially because it came from shy Diego, who sits right in front of my desk. When he asked why I was laughing, I said, "Diego, you want to be Chinese?!" and his face got all red as I explained what the answer should be. It was hilarious.

Until next time,
Sara the Supermom

"I will give you THREE LifeSavers if you don't tell anyone what happened!!"

First of all, I've added recent pictures to my Picasa account. They include pictures from the farm visit, and a picture of the Superman Jesus! If you click on the link above - La Vida Ecuatoriana - it will bring you to the albums.

Since returning from Easter Break, I've found that my schedule is more exhausting than ever. I am away from my house for around 12 hours per day, and by the time I get home, I watch America's Next Top Model, Skype with whomever may be available (NEVER TRAVIS, AHEM), and am usually falling asleep by 9:30. I like being busier though - time is flying by, and I can't believe that we're already in May! I'm teaching the final unit to the kids, and after that they have a week review of the entire year, trimester exams, and then the kids that pass are let out of school (I think it's on June 11), while the failed kids have two weeks of a summer school type program where they are given ONE MORE CHANCE to pass the school year. Talking to my boss, everyone always passes, because no one likes being left behind - no wonder some of the English levels in my classroom are so low!

Last Tuesday, the kids had a unit test. On Monday, thinking that I'm being nice and giving all of the kids the opportunity to get a 100%, I gave the kids a review guide, and we discussed ALL of the answers. The review guide was indeed the same exact thing as the test, although I did change around the order of questions. This still doesn't seem to matter. The lowest grade I gave was a 62%, and this just BAFFLES me. HOW is this POSSIBLE? 24 hours ago, I gave you ALL the right answers, and you're still getting nearly half of them WRONG. I didn't say this to the kids, but OH how I wanted too.

When the kids are "sick" on the day of a test, I make them take it the first day that they are well again, but they have to move a desk into the hallway so that I can resume class without disturbing them. David (the kid who got his face stuck in his braces a while back) had to take the test on Wednesday.

To give you a visual, all of the classrooms have double doors, that in total width are slightly larger than a normal doorway. One of the doors always stays closed, so there's only a narrow opening to get in and out of the classroom. So David, instead of moving his desk in the normal spot in the hallway - away from the doors and against a wall - decides to put his back up against the closed door and face out. Fine. I make him move forward a little bit so that I can get the other door closed, albeit with some force. All in all, it's a tight fit for him to be there, but it's pointless arguing with the kid.

After I close both of the doors, I notice David peaking through the cracks of the doors. I go over, open a door, and say "DAVID! TAKE YOUR TEST!!" And he responds "OK Teacher!!!!!" I close the door again. 20 seconds later, David opens it, to peak have of his face through the door. "DAVID! JUST TAKE YOUR TEST!!!!!!!" His response? "OK TEACHER!!!!" With that huge goofy smile on his face. I lock the door, so he can't open it anymore.

In the next 10 minutes, David keeps peaking through the crack, but I say nothing. Sometimes he BANGS on the door because he has a question, so I pop my head out and help him. About 4 minutes went by with no movement from David, so I decided to go check on him to make sure that he didn't have any questions.

As I was walking toward the door, I was telling something to another student, so I wasn't looking at the door as I was opening it. Apparently, David saw me coming, and, without me noticing, started peaking through the crack of the doors. Key words - WITHOUT ME NOTICING. As I continue talking to Sergio, I open the door, somewhat forcefully because I have to shove it past David's desk, and BOOM. Oh shit.

"TEACHERRRRRRR HOW COULD YOU DOOOOOOOO THAT TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?!?!?!?!" Since I didn't notice David's head in front of the door, when I opened it, it SMACKED him in the middle of the forehead. I wish I was talking about a little love tap. This poor kids eyes were watering, his forehead was getting red, and he looked like he was in pain. I was HORRIFIED. I'm going to lose my job. I'm going to lose my house. I'm going to have to fly back to the United States.

The 6 or so kids who sit near the door saw this happen, and they BUSTED out laughing, as in tears were in THEIR eyes as well. I shut the door and talked to David in the hallway, after feeling his forehead and making sure there was not a horrible goose egg forming. "David. I will give you THREE LifeSavers if you don't tell ANYONE what just happened." Now first, I would like to thank God for having it be David that I smacked with a door. He LOVES candy, so he eagerly nodded his head and said "OK Teacher! I won't say ANYTHING!!" I stopped sweating, and wanted to hug him. I told him to finish taking his test, offered him Excedrin (which is illegal, but dang, I would have had a headache too), and went back into the classroom. As a side note, I was telling my friend Jess about this incident, and she said, "Sara, that is totally worth TWENTY LifeSavers." This I am completely aware of. David, however, is not.

Once I went back into the classroom, I completely lost it. I started laughing SO hard that tears were streaming down my cheeks and my stomach hurt. The kids who saw it were still laughing too, and the others were just bewildered.

When David finished his test, he moved his desk back into the classroom - he sits in the front row - and sat down. Throughout the entire class, he kept looking at me and giving me that goofy smile, and holding up three fingers, in case I forgot my promise to give him three LifeSavers. No, David, I didn't forget - TRUST ME.

I didn't bring my LifeSavers to school until Friday, and at that point I decided to be nice and let everyone in David's class have one. I just walk around with a Ziplock bag full of LifeSavers, and everyone takes one. David took three, and of course the tattle-tale kids that I have yell, "DAVID TOOK THREE! TEACHER! DID YOU SEE?!?! DAVID HAS THREEEEEEEEEEEEE." You know, LifeSavers aren't even that good, and here they are putting up a huge fuss about it. I told them, "I know." And moved on.

I am so happy to say that David kept the secret, and I still have a job.

Until next time,
Sara the teacher who bribes children with candy. Hey - it works.