Into the Blue Then Into the Blues

I love Frank Sinatra; he's the perfect accompaniment for ballroom dancing, writing, doing the dishes, and cooking [note: for the best results I'd recommend doing the last two listed items whilst also ballroom dancing alone in the kitchen]. Almost two weekends ago I couldn't get "Come Fly with Me" out of my head because I had an opportunity I would have never imaged before arriving in Puerto Rico: I flew in a very small airplane over the coast and part of the Caribbean Sea piloted by one of my co-workers.

We were celebrating another co-worker's birthday and Robert offered to take the birthday girl and a few more of us up in his plane. Around 11am we headed to the "airport". I use quotation marks because the airport was essentially a field of tall grass, a few abandoned buildings, a hose, some rickety-looking hangars, and a paved stretch of asphalt serving as the runway.

One of the old hangars.

The plane was small and could only seat the pilot and one passenger at a time, so we took turns waiting on the ground. When it was my turn to climb inside, I was amused by how closely the inside of the plane resembled an old Oldsmobile my father used to have-- give or take a lot of gears and meters on the dashboard, of course. Despite only seating two people, the dashboard allotted for quite a bit of leg room. We put on the headsets so we could hear each other talk, then took off down the runway.

This stretch is perpendicular to the runway.

I was expecting a jolt when we left the ground, but none came. It wasn't as jarring as a large commercial plane, in fact, it felt just like driving in my father's old Oldsmobile; a bit bumpy at times, but reliably comfortable. We flew over the coast near Arroyo and glided over part of the Caribbean Sea. As we doubled back I had the option to pick if I wanted to fly over Guayama and see the buildings or stick with the sea. Since I couldn't keep my face away from the window to try and take in all of the water, rocks, mangroves, and sandbars, I couldn't part with the sea. These things are beautiful when you're level with them, but seeing them from up above and being able to see mangroves and sandbars hidden from you on the ground is amazing. The water whitened and jostled to show movement, but from the sky everything was placid.

After we landed Robert took another skyward trip so I waited on the ground where my heart was promptly stolen by a black lab mix puppy. One of my co-workers had given the puppy crackers which he chewed with utter joy. I noticed he was having trouble swallowing the crackers because of all the salt and went in search of water. By one of the abandoned buildings there was a water dish that had once been white but was now saturated green from various vegetation/mold growth. With no other options, I washed the bowl under the hose as best as I could and called the puppy over to me. He came right up to me without any qualms, drank some water, then laid down in the shade. 

"My" airport puppy. You can see the bugs in the picture.

The poor little guy kept squinting his eyes and appeared to have some type of eye infection. He wasn't putting all of his weight on one of his back legs, his ears were dirty, and I could see bugs leaping off him (the only thing that stopped me from petting him). My brain raced with the possibilities of taking him to a vet and adopting him, but currently it does not appear possible. When Robert came back he said this dog was relatively new to the airport and that, unfortunately, airport dogs don't last long. What he was referring to was that the dog was abandoned at the airport, and because the airport is basically a field far away from water, the dogs left there don't survive very long because of lack of food and someone to turn the spout to refill their moldy water dish. 

Stray dogs are a huge problem in Puerto Rico. After meeting "my" airport puppy, I researched the entire next week to see if there was a way I could finance adopting him. While this adoption is sadly iffy at best currently, I do plan to adopt a stray from Puerto Rico before I leave for good. In the meantime, however, I came across some fascinating information about strays on the island, including the statistic that there approximately 3-6 stray dogs for every square mile in Puerto Rico. Because there are so many strays, most of the animal shelters are at-capacity and are forced to euthanize animals because they can't afford to keep all of them. 

I came across several organizations trying to combat this problem and they even offer overseas adoption for people in the States. The dogs are rescued from streets and beaches, given all of their shots and treatments, and are sent on planes to the arms of their new family in the States. If you're interested in rescue-adoption or information about the organizations check out: http://www.islanddog.org/home.html

For more information on the dog overpopulation of Puerto Rico there are tons of sources. Here is one from the Huffington Post which mentions what life is like for these dogs: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cesar-millan/saving-the-satos-stray-do_b_1470597.html

While I'd love for Fate to give me the go-ahead to adopt this airport puppy, I realize that this poor little guy is one of many. It makes me sad that I can't rescue him right now, but I will take a dog home with me when I leave Puerto Rico for good. The day at the airport started high and went rather low, but it was a great experience to see more of what Puerto Rico has to offer: both the beautiful and the bitter.

You Say Tomato, I Say Manipulation

It's that burning question: Should Puerto Rico become the 51st state, remain a commonwealth, or become a free nation?

Not wanting to overstep my boundaries in a culture I'm just being introduced to, I have carefully avoided blurting out this question in the the event that it would be unwelcome and/or appear to be a loaded question coming from an American with little knowledge of what this question is really asking. But on Halloween, waiting out an Elementary School Halloween party, amongst superheroes, witches, zombies, princesses, and an assortment of furry animals, it came up in conversation with one of my Puerto Rican colleagues, the High School History teacher. And I have a feeling you won't find this printed in many US textbooks.

Oddly enough, it began with a rant about tomatoes. The tomatoes here are very orange and very expensive. For example, four medium-sized tomatoes, undeniably orange, are packaged together and fetch the price of $7. After agreeing with this complaint, the History teacher said, "But you know why, don't you?" Actually, I had no idea unless it was a cruel ploy to withhold the good tomatoes.

"Produce is so expensive because Puerto Rico is not allowed to trade with anyone except the US," she explained.

I mentally walked through the local grocery stores and recalled the signs on each produce item saying where it was from. Costa Rica. Chile. Mexico. But how is it possible to only trade with the US when Puerto Rico clearly gets produce from other countries?

Let's say you pick up the bananas from Costa Rica in a local grocery store in Puerto Rico. Those bananas did not travel from Costa Rica to Puerto Rico. They went from Costa Rica to the US to Puerto Rico. Why do this when it would be cheaper to export from Costa Rica to Puerto? Because Puerto Rico's commonwealth status prevents it from trading directly with countries except the US, which allows the US to collect an additional profit from the item it's "trading" with Puerto Rico.

Taken aback, and moderately confused, I asked about the role the US plays in relationship to Puerto Rico. And, more importantly, what's in it for both parties?

Being a commonwealth gives Puerto Ricans US citizenship, military protection (somewhat), and welfare money. Puerto Ricans can still not vote in Presidential elections unless they move to the US.

"That's it? Why is that appealing?" I asked.

My colleague went on to explain that the welfare money was somewhat ridiculous in proportion. In her hometown, she said approximately 60% of the people who lived there did not work. And not because they were old or prevented by any other means. It's because the US welfare gave them paid houses, paid cars, cellphone plans for $10/month, and even free wi-fi. Why work if you don't have to?

But this welfare, she explained, is likely doing more harm than good. Because some of the people receiving this money are content with not working, but still desire attaining a more extravagant lifestyle, it is not uncommon to sell drugs on the side, leading to potential violence.

What does the US get out the relationship if it's paying a crazy amount in welfare? Though it sounds like a lot of welfare money, when you consider how small the island is (though somewhat densely populated), it's not really all that much to a large country like the US. Especially when the US collects additional profits from Puerto Rico for trading produce, the exports that come from Puerto Rico like fruit and coffee, and the booming tourism industry. Though the US is giving money to Puerto Rico, it's collecting far more in return. Additionally, because Puerto Ricans have US citizenship, they are eligible to be drafted during wartime.

Essentially, the US is bribing Puerto Rico with the welfare money, dangling cellphones and lifting the curtain on paid houses to say, "See? You NEED us. Look what we will give you. You'll never have this without us." According to the History teacher, some Puerto Ricans believe that this is true (also for additional reasons, I'm sure), which creates a split on the issue of statehood, remaining a commonwealth, or becoming a free nation. Others see what the US is really gaining from the relationship and noting how severely it pales in comparison to what Puerto Rico is gaining.

I asked my colleague for her opinion on the statehood, commonwealth, or free nation question. She is on the free nation side and explained that Puerto Rico has very fertile soil and a nice climate, which allows it to produce an abundance of crops, helping it to be self-sustaining. These resources would also make it an appealing trade partner with other countries. Furthermore, with a lack of welfare money from the US, people would no longer have the luxury of not working; this means that the drug and violence problem would eventually diminish because people would be in the workforce and able to make ends meet without ridiculous added costs from things like shipping bananas to the US before they arrive in Puerto Rico.

Puerto Rico has never been a free nation: it was under Spanish rule before the US snatched it away as a war prize. It's an interesting and saddening dynamic between the US and Puerto Rico--and one that is often neglected in schools and textbooks in the US (how convenient....). Though I'm sure this barely scratches the surface of the issue, whenever I see those orange tomatoes I will now think "manipulation" instead of "expensive".

A Vacation from.... Vacation?

Friday night we were sitting at a table at Tranquilidad, a restaurant on the shore of the ocean, watching brief flashes of lightning illuminate the dark clouds above the waves and excitedly talking about our mini vacation the next day: Culebra. Nobody could wait; a three-day weekend was exactly what we needed. We were musing the luxuries of the beaches we would visit when one of my friends suddenly said, "Wait... so we're talking about taking a vacation from vacation?" What irony! Here we were excited about traveling to a tiny tropical island for the weekend when, we were already living every day on a [relatively] tiny tropical island. What a problem to have!

Saturday morning we left Guayama at 530 in the morning and began our sleepy drive to Fajardo to catch the ferry over to Culebra. After waiting in line for tickets, we boarded the ferry and a mere 45 minutes later, were greeted by the bright blue water lapping the shores of Culebra.

Aboard the ferry.

In our rented white Jeep (which was new! no car problems allowed on vacaction!), we arrived before our hotel room was ready and, upon recommendation from the manager of the hotel, we went to a place called Zaco's Tacos. The atmosphere, people, and food were so good that we came back again the next day.

Next stop: Flamenco Beach. This beach is usually voted in the Top 10 Most Beautiful Beaches in the World. And it's easy to understand why! Green mountains in the distance, light colored sand (not quite white), and vibrant blue water welcome many tourists with brightly colored umbrellas.

A buoy marked a line where the bright water drastically darkened (indicating deeper water) and we swam out to snorkel there because a coral reef was hiding under the water. I'd only snorkeled once before and wound up being catastrophically concerned with the fact I was able to breathe underwater, so unfortunately I didn't make it to the reef. The few that did make it saw a few brightly colored fish among the purple and yellow coral. Next time, and with flippers, I'm determined to see it!

Flamenco Beach

We spent the remainder of Saturday at Flamenco, remaining even until we were the only people left on the beach as the clouds ceased casting pink on the rock face of the mountains and the whole sky darkened (and, less pretty: the bugs came out to bite us).


That evening we decided to check out the night life in Culebra. This tiny island is described in my travel book as "going back in time" because of the relaxed feel, zero rush for anything, and lack of chain and large businesses. Due to this, there wasn't much in way of nightlife, but we did find a bar called The Spot to hang out and even ran into a few other American teachers from the San Juan area and the bartender from Zaco's Tacos.

Zoni Beach

Sunday was for Zoni Beach. Farther off the tourist track-- the públicos (taxis) won't even take you there-- this beach only had about 15 people other than ourselves. Despite Flamenco being ranked in the Top 10 Most Beautiful Beaches, I'd have to give the award to Zoni. Similar to Flamenco, Zoni had the light colored sand, vibrant blue water, and green mountains in the distance. Zoni has less sand, but the green mountains and other islands (including St. Thomas) surrounding it make it seem like you are in the middle of a giant green bowl filled with water imitating a paint sample strip. Throughout the day the affect of the white, pastel blue, robin's egg blue, turquoise, bright blue, deep blue, and very dark blue arranged so that you could almost physically touch the lines where the colors merged never lessened. (Painters and Crayola employees take note)

Check out those colors!

We spent several hours being pulled, kneaded, and shoved by the ocean whilst enjoying conversation and the fact that we didn't have to do anything else. Every so often, just as one of us would become complacent with the ocean, we'd get a slap of salt water to the face. But when you're in a bowl of paradise this is nothing to complain about!

Heading back to Zaco's that night to watch the Patriot's game, and being the loudest table even by Puerto Rico standards, we relaxed and celebrated before going back to The Spot. We made a few more acquaintances that night and it was a fun night of conversation, silliness, and entertainment.

Leaving on the 1pm ferry today brought the reminder of reality back to us: another, albeit short, week of teaching in Guayama. Now that vacation is over, I guess we're just on regular vacation. Oh darn!

You're Not Really a Teacher in Puerto Rico Until...

There's a joke around here that you're not really a[n abroad] teacher in Puerto Rico until you have car problems. Today was apparently my initiation.

We (the rest of the abroad teachers and I) left Guayama a little past 8am with a full itinerary: see two caves, hit up the Bacardi Factory, then we'd split into two groups as half the group had a baby shower to attend. Divided into two cars, we began our adventure. And all was well until I noticed the meter on my car was well above the red zone. 

Both cars pulled over at a conveniently located bar, and put oil and water into my car and waited for it to cool off. Roughly 20 minutes later we were on the road again, heading to Cueva Ventana. My car began overheating again when we encountered hills, but we made it to the first cave.

The Entrance of Cueva Ventana

The walk up to the cave was easy; in fact, someone had made steps. We came to an opening which was somewhat covered in tree roots, and some of us (myself included) decided to go in that way, since it was a short-cut to Cueva Ventana and seemed like an excellent adventure. While the rest carried on around the path, we pulled out flashlights and held on to overhead roots to avoid sliding down the slippery sides inside the cave. There was a drop of about five feet, but a rope attached to the ceiling allowed us to repel down and continue into the center. Bats occupied the ceiling of the cave, but for the most part it was just a dark expanse of mud. Still pretty cool. As soon as we clambered up the side, we were outside the entrance of Cueva Ventana ("Window Cave").

The Ventana

Cueva Ventana was significantly larger (and more exciting) than the little shortcut cave. The stalactites and  stalagmites formed intricate labyrinths on the walls that made you feel like you were inside a coral reef; they were also the perfect size for a child to move an action figure through a stone "forest". Flashlights helped us navigate the muddy cave, annoy some of the bats (on accident), and muse over the graffiti as we wondered if Orlando and Laura are still together, despite their heart-shaped declaration in the cave. And then we reached the ventana ("window"). Absolutely beautiful.

We were on our way to the second cave, when my car overheated for the millionth time and we concluded that it probably wasn't a great idea for me to keep driving the car. The other car continued on and the rest of us in my car stopped at an Advanced Auto Parts where they sold me a new cap (I'm not sure for what exactly) and put water-- a ton of water-- in the car. Seemingly fixed, we made our way to San Juan to try and meet up with the others at the Bacardi Factory, their destination after the second cave which my group skipped.

After many wrong turns, because directions are never easy in Puerto Rico and Google Maps clearly likes to mess with people, we made it to the welcomed commercialism that was the Bacardi Factory. We signed up for the tour and immediately used our free drink coupons (we had to shut off the air conditioning in my car to keep it from overheating). Accidentally, we wound up on the Spanish tour, which I looked at as more opportunity to practice. For the most part, I could only understand snippets of what the guide was saying, but the videos which used clearly annonicated Spanish were much easier. 

Fun facts from the Bacardi tour:

-There is a law that rum in Puerto Rico must be aged for at least one year

-Bacardi started in Cuba

-Coca Cola and Bacardi joined forces to create a drink called Cuba Libre ("Free Cuba") which is basically a rum and coke, but with a lemon. Without the lemon, they call it rum and coke.

-Once the founder of Bacardi was exiled, he traveled around and created Bacardi distilleries in other countries.

On the Bacardi tour

Post-tour my group went to Caguas and found a Chili's. Ironically, the first Chili's I've ever been to. After a nice dinner break, we began the trek back to Guayama, with a seemingly functioning car. About 30 minutes away from home, the meter was well above red again, the check engine light (usually on) began flashing, the oil light came on, and the car emitted an impressive cloud of smoke. Figuring it was best to just keep going instead of worrying about a tow-truck and staying on the shoulder of the road in the dark with no streetlights (Puerto Rico doesn't really have them), we carried on and had the misfortune of hitting every red light possible. As I pulled into the driveway, the car died. Still half in the road, it had to be pushed the rest of the way into the driveway. That's pretty lucky.

Today turned out to be a little more of an adventure than I was expecting, but it was great to see more of the island. We essentially drove all over the island and the view, let alone the cave, was amazing. And hey, now I'm officially a teacher in Puerto Rico!

The Right Book At The Right Time

Being an English teacher, I'm predisposed to be a book nerd. (Vice versa may also apply) But I think even occasional readers will agree that every once in a while, usually through sheer dumb luck, or through the recommendation of a friend, you find yourself with a book that registers so completely with something you're experiencing that you just sit back and say, "Yeah."

Before I left for Puerto Rico, my friend Ally gave me the book All Roads Lead to Austen by Amy Elizabeth Smith and the instructions to begin reading it on the airplane. It's a nonfiction book about an English professor from California who goes on a year-long expedition in Latin America to set up Jane Austen reading groups (reading the Spanish versions) with the locals. Smith (the author) experiences Guatemala, Mexico, Ecuador, Chile, Paraguay, and Argentina and reads each of her three selected novels twice to get different perspectives from different countries. All the while, Smith is trying to answer the question "Are Jane Austen's novels applicable everywhere, even in other languages?"

The frustrations, curiosity, and excitement presented by traveling and grappling with new everything are perfectly illustrated in this book. Struggling with Spanish, meeting new people, seeing new places, learning a new culture, teaching, and finding solace in literature are in the forefront for Smith--and for me at the moment. In her book, Smith argues that you cannot separate people from place; "We don't know a place until we know the people, and that takes time, patience, and serious reading skills." In each country she visited, Smith made a point to read local literature. With each novel read, she was able to gain a deeper understanding of the culture in which she currently found herself--and the jokes too!

The beauty of literature is how universally it connects people and cultures all around the world, whilst still managing to impart wisdom specific to locations, populations, or situations. So why didn't reading occur to me before? Smith's book made me start thinking that I have been trying to get to know a place, instead of a people. Sure, I know a little bit of history, but I don't know local literature that has colored the way people see things. It's a different way of looking at a place, a different kind of understanding. I may be here to teach literature, but I can learn it here too.

Smith says it best when she writes, "Immersion in a new culture can inspire huge changes, but so can reading. Any bookworm knows how a truly powerful book can motivate us toward major change." Now, put the two together and you have major changes in perspective, in appreciation, and in action.

And sometimes all it takes to create change is a book given to you by a friend, at exactly the right time, that makes you sit back and say, "Yeah."

West for the Weekend

Thanks to Puerto Rico technically being part of the United States, we were lucky enough to have a four day weekend. Naturally, this meant it was time for an adventure. Our destination was the West coast of the island-- more specifically, San Sebastián.

Friday night was pretty relaxed and we headed to the movie theater. The movie we saw (We're the Millers) was in English, but had Spanish subtitles at the bottom of the screen. Apparently this is typical, though I did notice a few Spanish titles also playing at the theater.

Saturday afternoon we packed up the car and drove a little over two hours to San Sebastián. The road went up through the mountains, which were partially covered by fog, and then gave way to tons of bamboo trees before taking us to the residential area.

As soon as we arrived in San Sebastián I thought, "THIS was the Puerto Rico I was expecting." Everything was tightly packed together; brightly colored houses, small businesses, lots of trees, some lizards, a mountain view a short distance away from the houses, and the ocean not far off. To give you a comparison, in my city, Guayama, things are much more spread out. My neighborhood is colorful houses quite close together as well, but you need to walk or drive a ways to get to any of the small businesses and large/chain businesses are quite prevalent. As far as foliage is concerned, it's mostly planned (like palm trees next to the sidewalk) and there aren't many natural patches of trees. You can see the mountains from most places in my city, however, the ocean requires some driving to reach.

That evening we went to a town called Moca because there was a festival. Immediately it was like being back home at a county fair. There was a massive amount of cars trying to park in various places in the grass, people milling about the various fried food stands, a stage area designated for live music, and some rides that have definitely been around since at least the 80's. There was even a Tilt-a-Whirl! We listened to some live merengue music for a while, then made our way to a bar to play pool, talk, and dance.

The bar--I'm not sure what it was called--was partially outdoors. The main section with the actual bar, juke box, and pool tables was indoors, but suddenly there ceased to be a roof and more tables and trees made up the other half of the bar. While here, I got the chance to do a little salsa dancing and had quick lessons in how to dance both merengue and bachata. I love dancing, so this was the perfect end to our first evening.

The pier I jumped off of, into the ocean!

Sunday was for the beach. We drove about 45 minutes to Crash Boat Beach, which is a pretty touristy beach with boat and scuba rentals, jet skis, bright umbrellas, and various food vendors. There is a long pier that stretches into the water which I made sure to jump off of, even though it was kind of scary. We hit a few patches of clouds, but otherwise it was a perfect beach day of sunshine and salt water.

Another shot of Crash Boat Beach.

Our last evening in the West lead us back to the festival in Moca because El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico was the musical entertainment. Apparently this group is the most popular Salsa group in Puerto Rico. The ensemble was quite large with trumpets, an upright bass, multiple drummers, a pianist, and three old, but energetic singers who salsa stepped their way through the entire concert. For reference, when I say "old" I mean this group is celebrating 50 years together this year. Several couples took this opportunity to show off their salsa dancing skills, which was amazing to watch. I wasn't able to take a video of the performance, but I did find the following one on YouTube, so take a minute to experience El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico:

El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico 

Today we slept in a little, stopped at the bakery, and then meandered our way back to Guayama. It was a great four-day weekend and I think I'm ready for another school week.

Four Weeks Does Not a Seasoned Teacher Make

Tomorrow marks the completion of my first month in Puerto Rico! How has that happened already?? We're already four weeks into the school year, but it feels like we just started a few days ago. Here's what's been going on in my classroom.

The Ups:
--Routine is sinking in. For example, I have my students in each of my classes read silently (anything they want) for the first 10 minutes of class. At first I had to remind them what to do, but now they are starting to sit down and begin reading-- before the bell even!
--I survived (and I think I made a good impression) on Parent Night. Essentially, I "taught" the parents of my 7th grade students about what we're doing in class this year for about 15 minutes.
--Students are coming into my classroom before school, during recess, during lunch (except now they know they're not supposed to), in between classes, and after school. It can be a bit frustrating at times because there are constantly kids around, but I'm glad they're not afraid to ask me questions.
--I brought quite a few popular adolescent books (Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, A Series of Unfortunate Events, etc-- thanks to my mother for purchasing most of them at Saver's!) and I allow students to borrow these books either for the day, or they can check them out and take them home. Most of my students have been taking advantage of this mini library and a few students appear in my room throughout the day to read me passages they really liked or to ask if they can borrow the next book in the series because they're hooked. This makes for one very happy English teacher!
--The first big writing project is now underway in each class. 7th graders are writing Flash Fiction stories, 8th graders are writing autobiographical narratives, and 9th graders are writing a comparison-contrast essay after selecting two of the three stories we've read and discussed in class.

The Downs:
--The school is "paperless" which means no printing or copies or handouts. This is taking some adjustment, especially for differentiated instruction and keeping students focused. Without something tangible in front of them, I have noticed students tend to get more distracted. (In case you're wondering, I do have a projector and students copy activities into their notebooks)
--A student in my 9th grade English class does not speak or understand much English. Getting around the language barrier and finding ways for her to get something out of the class is proving to be a challenge, but I'm working on some accommodations that won't over-step what my principal told me I'm allowed to do.
--My 9th grade class is troublesome. Until today, I assumed it was because of something I was doing wrong as a first year teacher. The students do not stop talking; some of them blatantly ignoring instruction. It turns out this particular group is like this for each of their other teachers. (Whew!) And so, a few detentions, and the realization that they won't respond to yelling but WILL respond to my silence, later, I think we are finally getting somewhere.

The new teacher gig is definitely challenging, but thus far I'm enjoying it. In the four short weeks we've been in school I feel like I've learned a lot about teaching--and noted that I need to re-learn some things too. I think the most helpful thing is just to keep trying new things until something works, because, even with the best of intentions, four weeks does not a seasoned teacher make.

Re: Driver's Ed

      Let me preface this by admitting I am unbelievably good at getting lost while driving. If there was an award for the number of times one could get lost following simple and clear directions, or an award for being impeccable at driving past the turn one was supposed to take, or an award for realizing one is going the wrong way but that turning around is not an option for quite a ways, I would be a shoe-in.  This summer, after living 15 minutes North of Eau Claire, WI for 24 years, I managed to get lost on the way to a pizza place I'd been to a hundred times. However, the benefits of being a slightly unfortunate road voyager are that I get the chance to see some places and things I wouldn't otherwise have passed, and I have extra time to make some observations, be they traffic or otherwise.
      Driving around a new place takes a while to become comfortable. The roads are unfamiliar and the landmarks are meaningless until you get some practice. But you still have your basics, right? Stop at the stop sign and red lights, watch for one-way signs, yield signs, and merge lanes. Driver's Ed has your back no matter what the roads are like....right? Not in Puerto Rico!
      One of the first things that I noticed about driving in Puerto Rico (other than that the traffic signs are all in Spanish) is the sheer amount of traffic coming from every direction imaginable, all at once, with no rhyme or reason, but at a very slow pace. There are no horns blaring (usually); it appears that road rage is minimal. Very different from driving on the mainland where as soon as the guy in the red truck has to wait an extra eight seconds for the driver ahead of him to put on her sunglasses, he's leaning all his body weight on his horn and shouting obscenities out the window. How can cars be coming from every which way if people are adhering to the Right of Way principle? It's simple: the idea of Right of Way is essentially null and void in Puerto Rico. From what I've observed in the two weeks that I've been here is that this is because of how much traffic there is. If people had to wait at stop signs until the cross traffic stopped, they'd be waiting literally for hours sometimes. Puerto Rico is a small island with a LOT of cars and adhering to Right of Way quite a bit of the time would be impractical.
      This is not to say that cars go whenever they feel like it. When you're waiting at a stop sign here, you stop initially and then keep inching forward until the cross traffic has no choice but to wait for you (because you are now completely blocking their lane) and the line of cars in your destination lane have to let you in because you're angled in front of them. Surprisingly, this is common practice. That being said, people are expecting it to some degree, which decreases the likelihood of an accident which would have been imminent on the mainland. Once in a while, when you can't merge, if you look to the people in the cars around you, you can reach a sort of nonverbal agreement that they will let you in. I'm still rather amused that this is how driving works, but when in Rome... or Guayama!
      It also common here for cars to make one-lane roads into two-lane roads. Even mid-turn. I've taken to assuming that if I'm turning there is a 70% chance that another car just slipped into my blind spot because it felt like turning at the last minute too.

The mountains that catch my attention.

      On my accidental drive, naturally past the turn I was supposed to take, toward the mountains today, I realized I was getting a little perilously low on gas. I was headed to the office of my Internet company to switch routers (for the second time-- however they were very helpful both times) and looked at the mountains a little too complacently. When I remembered to pay attention to where I was going instead of the pretty scenery, I saw a toll booth immediately ahead of me. Whoops. Luckily, the car ahead of me clearly made the same mistake and we both sneaked through a space in the median and did some U-turns. After getting the router sorted out, I figured I'd better stop at a gas station, which was conveniently located next door.
      This was my first time putting gas in my car in Puerto Rico. Like what I assumed was normal, I opened my gas cap, took the lever of the gas I wanted, and proceeded to fuel my  car. Except that nothing happened. I put the lever down, and put it back up. It beeped reassuringly at me. Yet pulling the trigger did nothing. Finally I decided to go into the gas station. In some terribly pronounced Spanish I asked if Pump # 8 was working. He said yes and looked at me expectantly. Finally it dawned on me to ask if I had to pay for gas before I put it in my car. And, for any of you who travel to Puerto Rico (though this might have been central to this particular gas station... I'll get back to you on that), you do have to pay for gas before you put it in your car.
      It's kind of like being in Driver's Ed all over again; ignore Right of Way, creep forward instead of waiting, feel free to make an extra lane, and pay for gas before you pump it. Definitely some unfamiliar territory. But at least  you can always get the satisfaction of stopping the pump at an even dollar amount!
 

First Week of School

      Thursday was the kickoff for the first day of school--and my first day as a real teacher! The week leading up to that was spent working in my classroom; I put up some semblance of decorations, tried to organize, started rewriting the syllabus for each of my three classes, and began lesson planning. When Wednesday night rolled around my classroom was essentially ready. Not so much the teacher.  I had a plan for the next day, with the exception of Homeroom which I would have for an entire hour and didn't want to bore by spending that 60 minutes reading school rules. After creating a few more things for my classroom and making some notes of things to discuss with each class I attempted sleep. 

My first attempt at a bulletin board, located in the hallway outside my classroom.

   

       The next morning I arrived at school half an hour early to try and collect my thoughts. I was still in a state of nervousness when my first batch of students, 7th graders, filtered in. Their eyes were huge, taking in everything around them, looking extra relieved that they had made it to the right classroom. It was their first day on the High School side of the building; their class schedule was completely different, their classrooms were completely different, procedures such as homework being posted online were completely different. They looked like rabbits frozen in the backyard when someone opens the door quickly. Already we had so much in common!

    

     To my surprise, the day went very smoothly. My 7th and 8th graders were exceptionally well-behaved, though my 9th graders absolutely love to talk. Constantly. I integrated a classroom management procedure called Teacher vs. Class that one of my new co-workers introduced me to. Each of my classes now has a chart that says "Ms. Kramer vs. [Class Period]". If the class does well following directions and being quiet when asked, they receive a tally in their column on the white board; if the opposite happens, or if the majority of the class is unprepared, I receive a tally. At the end of the day, whoever wins receives a tally on their official chart on the wall and if they beat me at the end of the quarter, they'll get some type of prize. The 7th graders and 8th graders thus far are getting really into this, but 9th grade doesn't seem to care as much. I think I just need to win them over first.

      Friday also went smoothly. Our school has a block schedule with 90 minute class periods and a two-day rotation. This means I see each class every other day for 90 minutes. Friday was Cycle B, so I saw one group of 7th grade, 8th grade, and 9th grade. Again, the day went quite smoothly. 9th grade proved to be a challenge yet again, so I doled out two "see me after class" instructions and, without knowing beforehand what was coming out of my mouth, explained that the behavior of the two students was not acceptable and was disrespectful and disruptive. And yes, what followed was the age-old teacher comment "and you can do better than that." I suppose only Tuesday will tell if it was effective.

      Overall, even with a few challenges, I think the first week went well. I found that I felt more comfortable being the sole teacher in charge than I had expected and that getting to know the students, interacting with them, and trying to correct their behavior came pretty naturally.  ¡Gracias a díos!

Bienvenidos a Puerto Rico

**Due to lack of internet I'm a little behind in blogging. But I got internet today! This post was technically written on July 31st, which was my first full day in Puerto Rico.**

Despite being briefly incommunicado, I am alive and safe and sound in Guayama, Puerto Rico.  Upon arrival in San Juan, I realized my phone would not make or receive calls or texts (local or otherwise) and as soon as I left the capital city, I apparently also left the shred of internet access my phone had been providing me.  But more on that later.

My parents and I left our house at 2:30am Tuesday morning to drive to the Minneapolis airport after I had packed everything that very night and slept for about 3.5 hours. Therefore I dubbed my first flight, from Minneapolis to Miami, “nap time”, and, despite my fellow passengers consisting of a group of 51 high school students on their way to Nicaragua, I slept the entire way.  On the flight from Miami to San Juan, I caught my first travel-channel glimpse of a tropical island with blue water bright enough to make you squint. This island, however, was not Puerto Rico.

I didn’t see Puerto Rico until 20 minutes before we landed. When the pilot announced we’d be landing in 30 minutes, I shoved my face into the window and waited. And glanced over at my seat buddy who did not appear to be excited at all. And touched my hand to the glass. And there it was. It wasn’t bright like the other tropical island. In fact, what struck me first was actually how many buildings there were. Then how many trees. Then how many green patches. Then the accentuated shape of the coastline which was curvy and jagged at the same time, winding in a way that had no rhyme or reason. Each time I looked out the window, I’d catch a glimpse of one of these things and then a series of clouds would cover the entire window. When the clouds parted, I’d catch another piece of the island. The clouds disjointed my view four times, each time pulling back the veil for only a few seconds and then saying, “Ah, but I have something else up my sleeve!”  This was my first impression of Puerto Rico and, thus far, it seems to be pretty accurate.

I made it to baggage claim and both of my suitcases came through. Yes! My next instructions, according to a pamphlet from the school, were to find the street exit, walk across the street, find a covered awning where cars could wait, and look for someone with a sign that says “Guamani School.” No problem, right? I walked out the ground transportation exit, saw only taxis, no awning, no signs, and after a few minutes, assumed I was in the wrong place. So I corralled both suitcases and followed a few people up a cement ramp, which also led to a street. No awning. No parked cars. No signs. I figured I’d try my luck back at the first exit, except I had to take a bizarre route down a ramp and a staircase (I’m sure anyone watching this moment had a good laugh watching a 5’ 3” girl with two suitcases and two carry-ons half stomp half catapult down the stairs).

Regular cars were now waiting to pick people up, but still no sign. After 20 minutes I tried to call Mr. Delgado, who was coming to pick me up. Instead of the phone ringing, however, a very uppity male recording told me, “Your account is not authorized to call this number.” Um, what? I waited another 10 minutes and then typed an e-mail from my phone, stating I was at the airport and was I in the correct spot. At this point, it had been over 30 minutes since I’d left the plane and my only company was a little old lady who also appeared to be waiting for a ride that had mysteriously not shown up.  I was formulating a plan to get to Guayama without the use of a phone, even though I didn’t know where in Guayama, when a car drove up and asked, “Miss Kramer?” Phew.

Mr. Delgado and I figured out that my phone did, in fact, not work because he had been sending me text messages asking where I was but they were never delivered.  He’d waited at a sports bar until he figured he should come look for me anyway. Mr. Delgado announced we’d be picking up a returning teacher in about two hours, so he gave me a tour of Old San Juan. It was quite interesting to see all of the old pink, orange, yellow, and green houses squatting amongst ritzy department stores. Several of the roads were still cobblestone, and none of the roads appeared to make any sense. They were very narrow and windy and I suspect they secretly formed a labyrinth of unmarked one-ways or that Puerto Rican cars are like the bus in Harry Potter that magically squishes into a several-inch span in order to pass. At one point, there were cars parked on both sides and a police officer had stopped next to one of them and waved us through anyway.  (We made it! Somehow!)

We passed several cruise ships and eventually made our way to a restaurant to kill some time. Mr. Delgado asked me not to get seafood because Guayama has better seafood than San Juan and he didn’t want my first impression of Puerto Rican food to be terrible. I went the traditional route and picked mofongo which is made from plantains which are mashed in a mortar bowl, the indent is then filled with meat, seafood, etc. , it’s flipped over, and then fried with olive oil. Not spicy at all, so fear not, Dad.

After picking up the returning teacher from the airport, we meandered back to Guayama, which was about an hour and a half long drive. On the drive, Mr. Delgado said he had a bad feeling about a hurricane this year because there’s a Puerto Rican saying that if an avocado falls from the tree before it’s ripe, there will likely be a hurricane. He said one of his non-ripe avocados fell off of his tree today and since there hasn’t been a hurricane here in about ten years, he’s getting suspicious.

Back in Guayama I got the keys to my apartment and then it was time to unpack. I am living in the Green House (it is labeled thusly out front and, I learned today, members of the community know the address if you just say “the Green House”). It consists of three apartments. Mine, which is painted the same “sunrise green” as the house, has three bedrooms  (ahem, visitors….). The floors are all tiled, there are sun decorations everywhere, and vibrant red, green, yellow, and blue furniture in the living room.  Overall, a very cute (and big!) apartment. The other two apartments are inhabited by  returning teachers who are going into their third year at the school.

Ascending the Water Slide

Six months ago this seemed like an excellent idea. Freshly graduated, I was wrapped up in the excitement of the University of Northern Iowa Overseas Recruiting Fair, presented with an array of countries (including some I had never even heard of), surrounded by teacher candidates who, like me, wanted to travel, explore, and take on a challenge. I couldn't wait to hop on a plane to teach Middle School English in Puerto Rico. But it didn't seem real then. Don't get me wrong, I am very excited to live in Puerto Rico and begin my first teaching job, but adventures seem to get a little more complicated once reality sets in.

Months ago, before I even attended the UNI fair, I encountered this quotation on the internet:

At the time, I just thought it was a cool quote about how people will regret not going on adventures. When I read this quote now, a mere ten days before using my one-way plane ticket, my thoughts sound more like this:

  You're doing what?  Where?  For TWO years?  You're leaving your friends?  You're leaving your family?  You're leaving everything you know?  For a place you've never been?  For a job you've never done [without guidance]? For people you've never met? For the Unknown?

And, in a way, it does hurt. Bidding farewell to La Crosse, WI which was "my" city for my college years, saying goodbyes to friends and family, and casting off the security blanket of what's known and comfortable. But the pre-leaving days are not like ripping off a Band-aid; they're like putting one foot in front of the other on the wet steps leading up to the top of a very tall water slide. And despite the fact you've just witnessed a group of six year olds shriek happily down the slide and arrive safely at the bottom, you can't help feeling the impending doom of that first drop. 

Lately my brain has been pondering what would happen if I took a more "normal" route. What if I took a job in Wisconsin to be closer to friends and family? What if I only ever had to speak English? What if I could maintain the activities I enjoy on a regular basis? What's wrong with a little monotony after all? What if the water slide isn't all it's cracked up to be?

But it's the feeling after the water slide that matters. The moment where you stand up (and probably adjust your swim suit), try and swallow your heart back into your chest, peel your wet hair off your face, and look up at the top of the water slide. You're still shaking, but you have a smile on your face because you didn't die and it was FUN. 

I know that even though it hurts now, it will be worth it for the post-water slide moment where I can look up to the top at a place I'd never been, a job I'd never done [without guidance], people I'd never met, and the prospect of what I could find and what I could learn in the Unknown.

Hola

       My name is Erika ( "Riko" --hence the pun--to some of my college friends) and I am embarking on my first year of teaching. I am trading my home of Wisconsin for the adventures of Puerto Rico and attempting to successfully survive, teach, and learn. Come share in my adventures in my Middle School English classroom and my new "country".