familia mexicana.

According to the ever-helpful Blogger dashboard, it has been over a year since I last wrote. If you have been following my blog over the past four and a half years since I moved to this glorious country, you will realize that long spans of silence are normal for me! They denote times of ministry, of growth, of stretching, of joy, of struggle, of tears, of laughter…of life being lived!

            Despite the fact that I finally have a life, this idea, this pondering and currently this blog post about my ‘Mexi Familia’ have been bubbling and gurgling in my brain for a month or longer. And weekly, daily, moment-by-moment the notion has been confirmed and strengthened.

            Let me start at the beginning. When people ask me what I miss most while being far from my home, the first answer is always “My family”. I grew up in a teeny four member immediate family. My parents have always been an integral part of my life and I have called them regularly since I moved here. They are my go-to question answerers, financial gurus, relationship coaches, health advisors and life compasses. If there is any major moment that passes while I’m here (including my most recent trip the hospital and four stitches in my scalp) they get the phone call first. My younger brother by seven years and I have been on a rollercoaster of closeness or being caught up in the busyness of life, but connecting with him has always been important and dear to me as well.

            Being far from my family has been the hardest because I am currently living in a country and culture that values family above all else. In Mexico, families are the people that will do anything for you, at any hour of the day or night. They don’t ask to be repaid, or expect anything from you. Family comes over for meals uninvited…and expects you to drop by as well. Or take up residence for the weekend on your couch. My fifth grade students are proud to recount the times they spent hanging out with their parents, their big sister or the herd of primos (cousins) that always seem to be around.

            In my first weeks, months and years here I felt so disconnected from all of this family stuff. I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere as the white girl, the teacher, the foreigner, the middle class citizen in a world of extremely poor or wealthy beyond compare. I remember abhorring Sunday afternoons because of their loneliness, the vast stretches of time to fill as a single person, the sadness of my ‘plans’ that included little other than a phone call to my parents and reading in my bathing suit in the garden trying to get a tan.

            Last year was a year of major stretching for me, primarily because of my first romantic relationship that just happened to be with a Mexican man. It helped me to realize so many things about myself, this culture and my future here. It also placed me at a point where I despised certain aspects of Mexico at the point when I was leaving to go to New Jersey for summer vacation. I struggled with the thought of returning and wondered often if me being here was of any value to eternity. If my being a foreigner, struggling through Spanish with a garish accent, being white in the land of the bronze was forever a hindrance and even more so, a reason not to return. Who cared if I came back? What difference did it make? Because I had promised months in advance, when I was in the middle of said relationship, I returned to Mexico for a fifth year. Kicking and screaming at first. But slowly stopping. And listening to my Father.

            God has been showing me, without fail, on a weekly, daily, moment-ly (?!?) basis that He indeed has provided me with a Mexican family. And that by HIS grace in my life has used me in whatever small way possible for His kingdom. And that now, being the good Mexicans they are, that family is ready to stand up for me in whatever way they can.

            This family includes people in my neighborhood who don’t know my name but do remember me as the white girl who has lived here for a long time…including the taxi driver who gave me the taxi ride to my first date and told me to not let ‘el chavo’ kiss me. And waves to me from his taxi when he sees me running in my neighborhood. The waiter at the café who smiles to me every time I walk by. The waitress at the same café who congratulated me on my new relationship (which was started over coffee she served us) and who hugged me when we broke up. The man at the market who sells me my cheese and has been encouraging my slowly emerging Spanish since the days I only knew ‘Hola’ and ‘Gracias’. The Starbucks barista who remembers my drink, my name, which state I’m from and who took a picture of new boyfriend and I. And asked if he was my grandpa the next morning. And gave me free coffee when I told him it was my new novio! The security guard at the school down the street from mine asks me how my day was every afternoon. The woman who owned the paleta stand my first year and whom, when she saw me at Walmart this year hugged me as if I was a long lost sister. The guys at the taco stand who would like me to be more than their sister. And have said so many times.

            And my dear hermanos and hermanas at Lincoln, both Mexican and American. Who will pick me up from the airport in the middle of the night. Who invite me to their homes and let me practice Spanish. Who invite me out to breakfast, pay for me and listen to my brain that is spinning like a hamster wheel. Who patiently wait for my English brain and tongue to trip and tumble over their language. Who take me to the hospital in all sorts of states of bleeding, leaking, vomiting, constipation, etc. Who sit with me in said hospital. Who visit me at home after trips to said hospital. Who bring me medication, flowers, sushi, notes from my students, hugs, movies, popcorn and even prune smoothies when I can’t do so for myself. Who check up on me. Who tell me things that my parents would tell me if they were here. Who give me the most God honoring advice. Who told my own parents, when they were visiting that they felt like my mom. Or my dad. Or my big brother. And who promised such blood parents that they would continue to act on their behalf in my life while I was living here.

            I still don’t know if I’m meant to live here forever. Nor do I see fruit from my own labors all the time. But I am continually humbled by the way that God provides so faithfully for me in the people of Mexico. I came here to serve them but have been so beautifully, tenderly and graciously been given a glimpse of my Father’s heart through their words and actions.

           

           

Organism, Miss B.

Today as I was grading papers I came across something that made me grin from ear to ear. It is a prime example of why I love teaching & why I love someone named Stevie. 


My students' assignment was to "Make a drawing of an organism living in a biome that receives direct sunlight all year long. Label your organism's adaptations". Stevie decided to draw me (the organism) sitting in a beach chair soaking up the sun (my students are well aware of my love of the Mexican sun). Next to me are my "adaptations", in the form of a can of Coke (my constant companion in Mexi) and a bag of peanuts (which are my purchase of choice at the school snack shop). 

Organism, Miss B. 

This is classic Stevie. He nailed the assignment, proved he understood the concepts & was over the top creative to boot. About two years ago this assignment would have made me heave a huge sigh & write a paragraph on his paper about how he didn't understand the directions. 

I look so happy!

What two years, and this young man have taught me is that learning, understanding and creativity don't have to be exclusive entities. 

Other reasons why I (and you should) love Stevie...

1. He has a stuffed brown and white cow named Cafe con Leche that he brought to school most days last year. 

2. His Facebook name is Supertivi Babycow and he introduces himself at times as the MooLord. 

3. He signs his papers "TV" as a shortened version of Stevie. That is, when he remembers to put his name on papers at all. 

4. One day in class he began coughing violently, and persisted for about five minutes. Eventually, with a loud gagging sound he pulled a piece of peanut out of his mouth, studied it and then popped it back in and swallowed. Turning to a wide-eyed and utterly silent class he said, "I've been looking for that for days!"

MooLord, I'm going to miss you!

Blank Canvas.

Usually, when my students are finished with a test, I allow them to turn the test over and draw. Sometimes I'll ask them to write me a note about a specific subject. Once I asked for advice what I should bake for a party I was hosting. No matter what, the 'blank canvas' of the last sheet of a test usually proves to alluring not to christen with doodles for students who are finished early. 

Just yesterday my sixth grade Science class completed a test about cells and cell reproduction. They were given the instructions that they could turn the paper over and doodle on the back. My favorites by far are the following...

I like that the Mac computer is shining, in all it's glory. 

And yes, that's my name along the right hand side. This student has tried to forge my signature since fifth grade.   

 I think he still has work to do...don't you? :) 

 A plea from an older sister to know the placement of her younger sister for next year.

 High five! 

 Hello Little Shorts. 

(If you look closely, you'll notice that this behemoth even has hairy KNEES)

 So detailed! 

The only explanation for this one is that one of the answers on the test was 'sperm cells'. 

Perhaps these are happy sperm? Sad sperm? Determined sperm? 

Tears and Teleton.

About a week ago Clare, my middle school supervisor stopped me while I was outside with a class. She asked me with her winning smile and almost conspiratorial manner if I would like to accompany the eighth grade on a field trip to the Teleton. It is a complex devoted to the rehabilitation of children who have disabilities such as multiple sclerosis, pulmonary disease and a range of other handicaps. They offer their services of diagnosis, therapy and equipment completely free to those who are enrolled and can do so through generous donations from those throughout Mexico. It reminds me a lot of Unicef, the Red Cross and the Salvation Army in the United States. I agreed to chaperone the field trip, but was uncertain about why I was asked to go and what I would come across.

For the following week, when I thought about the upcoming trip, I would question...Why was I chosen? I've never taught these students. They don't really know me. I'm not the BEST person to pick in terms of management, Spanish ability or understanding of eighth graders. Up until this morning, five minutes before the trip, I was asking myself these same questions.

When I got to the front gate this morning, I saw four girls dressed in costumes with baskets of palletas. One was dressed like Snow White, the other Little Red Riding Hood, and two others were dressed as clowns (but cute ones, not creepy at all). They were bounding with energy (which might have been fueled by the candy in their baskets) and were talking nonstop. These students I was worried about controlling were a bundle of nerves, shyness and excitement. I got a hug when it was discovered that I would be coming with them!

As we walked into the airy waiting room of the the complex I was struck by the cleanliness, the friendly demeanor of the staff, the organization (which is so often lacking here) and the warmth of the staff towards us, their visitors. We were first taken on a tour of the complex, which is a right of any citizen of Mexico, if they simply call and make an appointment. From the tone of our tour guide's voice, not many people take that opportunity. They were excited that we had come, could not wait to tell us about the positive gains their patients were making and pointed out that everyone in the building had a smile on. Which was completely true. Parents. Nurses. Volunteers. Even the kids who were in therapy! There was one little boy who was walking on a machine that moved his legs in the natural rhythm of walking, despite his lack of strength. He had the BIGGEST smile on that inspired me to smile.

We were then directed to a room that looked like a classroom, with a projector and desks in rows. I was told by my eighth grade counterparts that the desks at Teleton were much more comfortable than those at Lincoln. There we were introduced to two little boys and their mothers. The eighth grade class prior to our trip had raised money with fundraisers at Lincoln and selling various things outside of school. With that money, Teleton was able to buy a respirator for the three year old we met who has a severe pulmonary disease as well as a walker for a sweet 8 year old named Santiago. The mothers were each asked to describe their son's disability, how much time they had spent at Teleton and how our gift would transform their child's life. Soon, there wasn't a dry eye in the room as the women shared their gratitude and the students realized their impact. Two students were chosen to present the gifts and it was a once in a lifetime experience for me to see these kids who have EVERYTHING in the world at their fingertips realize how they could so easily change someone's life. We then watched a video about a boy who was born without arms and how his therapy taught him to use his feet to color, to change his clothes, to wash himself and to eat. At one moment, there is a shot of him enjoying some sticky food and he instinctively licked his toes as if they were his fingers. The room erupted in laughter and I looked over to my seatmate, a big, tough eighth grade guy who smiled at me with tears in his eyes! There were lots of sniffs throughout the room.

We then left to enjoy lunch at the cafeteria and I assumed this was the end of the heart wrenching moments. I was right, until the moment we were about to leave. As we left the cafeteria, I caught sight of a boy about sixteen years old. He reminded me a lot of the boys I was on the trip with, with a trendy haircut, skinny jeans, Gap Tshirt and cool sneakers. The only difference was that he was sitting in a wheelchair. He had a disability that didn't allow him to control his hands or his facial muscles very well, but his eyes and demeanor perked up as my students went strolling past, oblivious to the young man near the door. The girls in costumes noticed him and offered him a lollipop. He laboriously reached into the basket, chose a pop and desperately tried to look them in the eye to say thank you. They smiled at him and walked on, unaffected. In that instant I was struck with the fact that the ONLY thing that separated this sweet boy and the boys who were now in the hallway was a debilitating disease. He had the same thoughts, feelings, emotions, goals, desires. He wanted to be noticed by girls. He wanted to succeed in life, just as these eighth graders. And he had so, so, so much more to overcome! As I walked out of the cafeteria, I started to weep, then sob, then bawl. I couldn't stop crying! A huge eighth grade guy saw me and started to hug me and I went right on crying. These were tears of compassion, of desperation for the situation, of thankfulness of my own situation and frustration that the students around me couldn't realize how blessed beyond belief they are.

In the cafeteria, I realized why I was supposed to go on this trip. To remind me that I have no right to complain about what God's given me. And to push me to remind my students of the same.

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.

In honor of Valentine's Day and all things amor, I thought I would share with you a list of things that I love about Mexico...

1. I'm sitting outside, in flip flops enjoying a gentle breeze and sun in JANUARY. New Jersey right now? Covered in snow.

2. Anything (fashion wise), turquoise nails, huge hair clips, multicolored cropped hair...that I think is too much, over the top or tacky is always met with 'Que guapa!' by my Mexican friends.

3. The close to the Equator sun.

4. People in my neighborhood look me in the eye, smile and greet me when I walk by.

5. One word...TACOS.

6. Family is super important. When I ask my 6th graders about weekend plans, they always seem to include family time. And my kids aren't embarrassed by this! (One drawback in this family-centric country, for me? My own family isn't here.)

7. Greetings include a side kiss. When you enter a room, Mexican culture says you kiss/greet all present. Ditto when you leave a room. The U.S. 'Okay, bye!' said from the door? The definition of rude.

8. Men carry their lady's bag for them. Even if it's a Hello Kitty backpack.

9. Boys are raised to be gentlemen. They let you go first, hold the door for you, carry heavy stuff for you, and are more than willing to help you.

10. Girls are raised to look for boys who are gentlemen. And accept the help offered them.

11. Mexican food is simple, with lots of fresh ingredients, but almost impossible to replicate.

12. People really do ride in the back of pickup trucks!

13. I have a market down the street that sells everything from fruit, vegetables, yogurt, cheese, chickens, flowers, hot meals, fruit smoothies (liquados) to bras and high heels.

14. Sitting in the glorietta (city or neighborhood center) and eating a paleta (ice pop) is perfectly normal evening entertainment. Add tacos? A night on the town!

15. Ice cream = year round treat.

16. You can visit the doctor for $3.00. No appointment needed. Prescriptions filled immediately afterwards, usually for less than $20.00.

17. Flip flops = year round shoe choice.

18. The student/teacher relationship is much more relaxed than in the U.S. I often forget I'm talking to students and feel like I'm with friends. Who I can give detentions to.

19. Comida. The 3 o'clock meal that is perfect for enjoying at a cafe with a friend after work. It also beats waiting until seven to eat dinner, like I used to.

20. Fruit stands that are on the corner and offer plastic containers of fresh watermelon, pina, cucumber, melon, jicama...all available with a squirt of limon, a sprinkle of chile and always under a $1.

21. Taxis are cheap, and usually easy to get. The only tradeoff is answering the taxista's questions about your nationality, job and relationship status.

22. ADORABLE children. Dora the Explorer does exist, and goes to Lincoln School!

23. Lush gardens, trees, flowers, all year.

24. Coke has real cane sugar. There is nothing like it.

25. Pan dulce. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

26. Everything is slower, or on 'Mexican time'. No one arrives to anything early, let alone on time. I'm perpetually 15 minutes late after three years of Mexican time.

27. Spicy food! Most things have chile added in, including Cheetos, Dorritos, lollipops, random candy, anything with mango, sandwiches, salads. I'm converted!

28. Cowboy boots.

29. Spanish. I have a love/hate relationship most days, but I am blown away by how much I can understand and interact with. I still think it's one of the most lovely languages out there.

30. Valentine's Day isn't a day of mushy love stuff here. It's more a dia de amistad (day of friendship), which is much better than singleness awareness day.

Knit Wits.

What do you get when you combine twenty knitting needles, ten skeins of yarn, twenty four chocolate cupcakes with Nutella buttercream frosting, two bags of chips, one bottle of Valentina, two pitchers of iced tea, ten middle schoolers and one teacher?

My house yesterday afternoon!

My students have known that I knit since last year. I've brought knitting on the bus on a field trip, would whip it out during chapel or while students are sharing book reports. Because they have been exposed to it so often, a few of my girls asked if I could teach them how to knit. Ready for any excuse to have people over and bake, I offered to have a few of them to my house for tea and knitting. In my mind's eye, I imagined three or four girls sitting around my table with cups of tea and cupcakes. Little did I know what was in store!

I've been knitting since eight grade and can knit with my eyes closed (seriously!). I knit during movies, in the dark, and while holding a lengthy, involved conversations. I taught myself how to knit after watching my Grandma Beaver during summer vacations at her house, and have no idea how to follow a pattern. I will see something I want to make, feel it and look at it for a few minutes, and then go home and make it. When these girls asked me to teach them, I was worrisome that I wouldn't be able to explain something that I had been doing for fourteen years without thinking.

When I offered the afternoon to the class, I got an overwhelming response. As I’ve already spoken about on this blog, my house is pretty teeny tiny. We have a large kitchen table that seat eight and juuuuuuust fits in our front room. Because of the space limitations I said that the first ten people to email me would be on the list. I got home from school that day and had more than ten emails already! Surprisingly, I had quite a few boys who were interested too. In the end I had three boys and seven girls descend on the Casa (not so) Calma yesterday.

If I thought teaching was hard, teaching Science was harder, and teaching Science to middle schoolers was excruciating…teaching middle schoolers how to knit? Like the pains of childbirth! The hardest part for me was that I couldn’t easily walk around the table to assist peeps that needed it because our house was too small! My hands hurt all evening afterwards, because I was knitting for about two hours straight.

It was all worth it though. One sweet girl was so excited that I saw her continuing to knit as she was walking to her car. I was commissioned to make a knit tie for one incredibly fashion forward dude. I could share something I love to do with people I love. Best part? I was told, ‘You’re the best teacher ever!’

Will you be MIME?

I have received some of the best, direct, and often hard to answer questions from students. Some of the best have been posed outside of the classroom, and have to do with my personal life. Samples include and are not limited to:

- Why do you think you're still not married?

- What is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?

- Do you think everyone is supposed to have a best friend?

- What do white girls want to be tan and Mexicans want to be white?

- What was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to you in Mexico?

The last question was asked on a bus ride by my student Santiago, and it took me a moment to think of the perfect answer. He will often ask questions that have a story involved (mostly when he's trying to distract me from a lesson about scientific notation), and at that moment I couldn't retrieve one specific shining moment of weirdness.

This weekend? Santi's question was answered once and for all!

It all started in Guanajuato, a tranquil, picturesque and culture filled city that a group of us decided to descend upon this past weekend. The town is filled with brightly painted homes, balconies, squares with fountains and cafes, theaters, bakeries and romantic restaurants. This is my second time traveling there and I fall deeper in love with the place the longer I spend there. I traveled there this time with nine others, including fellow teachers and friends. We spent our days enjoying the varied offerings of Guanajuato and would often meet up for dinner together in the evening. Saturday night we decided to meet on the steps of the Teatro in the center of the town before venturing off to dinner. One unique and

charming part of Guanajuato is the impromptu performances that often happen on the steps of the teatro or the cathedral next to it.

This evening, while we waited, a mime entertained the growing audience with funny antics like pretending to ring the cathedral bells with his own rope as well as miming that he was walking the stray dog that pranced past the crowd. While we were sitting in the crowd he started pulling people up to be a part of the show. After choosing two young girls and parading them in front of the audience to be applauded, he started scanning the audience once more. For those of you who know me, I cannot stand mimes. They are funny from afar, but hands down frightening up close. As he started to walk closer to the area of the steps where we were sitting, I purposely started looking for something in my purse. When I looked up to see where he had gone and who he had chosen, I looked up into the expectant eyes of my worst nightmare. He put out his hand and I shook my head and did the classic Mexican finger shake signaling 'No way, Jose!'. He appealed to the audience and once again offered his hand. With the encouragement of the nine around me, I was lead to the front. For perhaps ten minutes I was lead through silly, harmless hijinks including pretending to ride a motorcycle and ballroom dancing. Then, when I was convinced we would be dismissed off the 'stage', the weirdest part of all occurred.

The two guys who the mime had called up were asked to turn around, so that their backs were towards us. The two girls who standing up with me (who were younger than I was by far) and I were then motioned to pretend that we were undressing. The motions the mine gave were quite suggestive and embarrassing. When he motioned to me, I once again did the 'No' finger shake. I had the encouragement of those sitting on the steps behind me who screamed, 'Don't do it Kelli!'. Eventually I felt so strongly that I was about to turn around and sit down, even though it would mean doing so in front of a huge group of people. At that moment, it started to rain and the mime put his hat out on the ground for any tips he might gain. I realized that I had gained my weirdest moment in Mexico, and quite possibly ever!