Pictures from Saturday's Beach Trip

Armanie (sp?) Beach this past Saturday.
Just what we all needed.
Enjoy! (we did!)

Oh, also the market (well, we caught the end of it) in St Marc. We were dying for fruit, avocados and sugar cane. Loved, loved, loved every minute of it. Even though I bargained in Gourdes and not Haitian Dollars and was totally throwing a woman, selling pineapples that you could literally smell from a block away and that I had to have, for a total loop. I wanted to bargain but I was literally ripping her off because I didn't know how to convert; multiply the price they give you in HT by 5 and you have how many Gourdes to give her (which is what you're holding in your hand). Fun, right? Needless to say she wanted little to nothing for the pineapples, which I was happy to pay, but even happier to bargain for. And they were so, so good.

It's Only Tuesday?

In French we say, 'de prendre les choses en main'. In English that translates to: I have enough of this @$&%.@%$#* and I'm going to find a solution (because there always is one) and remedy this tumor brewing in my side whose name is Lorvens. So, I did. I had put him in the corner one too many times for my taste today. To the point that, at lunch time (only 11am), I threw up my hands and said, 'I'm done'. This is, the point of tears done, the breaking point, je N'EN PEUX PLUS avec cet enfant! Then, I sat down, had lunch with other teachers and hashed it out. I took their advice and re-arranged my room. We'll see if he finds a away to misbehave now! The four groups of tables were all in the middle of the class, surrounded by the cubbies. So, I moved the cubbies into the middle of the class, forming a 'U' shape and blocking the vision of the groups while they're working; one is in the middle of the U (the youngest), one is to the left (M. Lorven's group, who is just above the youngest), one to the right (a little older and competent) and in the back corner (most mature, already displaying signs that they can function alone, ie, know what a 'line' is and how to get into one and repeat a word when you say it). They can't see each other. Now, hopefully, when we ask them to go to their groups, they can be a little more concentrated on their 'work' and I won't feel like I'm slowly degrading as a human being watching an uncontrollable circus unfold before my eyes every morning at 7am.
So! I worked until 4, until everything felt right. I even made the customary 'stop light' for behavior; red you don't get a sticker; yellow, keep working; and green, sticker; with their names on clothe's pins. And I took it upon myself to make progress charts for each group. We have a lot of wonderful assistants who 'stop by' and 'watch' and then 'leave'. Apparently, they are unsure of what they could possibly do with children, so I've decided...solution. Each group will have a chart, for the day, week, whatever and and will let us know whether the members of that group are, for example, holding their marker correctly, using their right or left hand (or both), have good grips, can recognize their names or colors, are able to follow simple directions and be in a group; anything we're working on that week. So that, EVERYONE has something to do and we know the progressions of our kids and can adapt our groups accordingly and eliminate boredom or children staring off into space; only I get to do that on the days the coffee doesn't kick in.
However, on my walk home I found out that we can get fresh eggs from the gardeners. When I asked how much I was told for nothing, because the eggs come from our chickens! Our chickens? Yes, we have 24 Jamaican laying hens in our...garden! What! I was living half a life here. I promptly went to visit them, they are beautiful. And the garden, I guess I found it, I didn't see any vegetables. We do have some corn that I've heard is okay. The teachers planted swiss chard last year. So, ah, another way to de-clench and exhale from the day.
The worst part is, this Lorvens kid comes from a entirely un-nurturing environment. I have yet to meet his mother, but he is the second of three boys (his oldest brother is at the school and I've been told he was just like Lorvens is now, great) and his father works in the states. He lives in an unsafe and raucous part of St Marc and given his actions on the playground, just acts out what he sees in his world at home. He literally pulled a chip of mulch out of his back pocket the other day that had splintered and formed a dagger-like edge and began to wave it in front of a group of bigger boys who were taunting him. I felt like I was watching a street fight of teenagers. You want to show him that there's another world and so many other ways to express yourself, but it's so hard when he will be constantly surrounded by that one. And, when he drives you insane all day. However, at times, he is so sweet and if you catch him you will find him helping someone put their shoe back on or helping the smallest kid in our class, Camison, put his belt back through the loops, or pick up everyone's napkins at the end of breakfast and throw them away. I quickly found out this last caper was just a way for him to peruse around the cafeteria. Smart, stubborn, and independent. Sound like anyone we know? Perhaps why we're bashing heads.
Anyway! Below are pictures from class, old and new, and from the chickens!!

One Week and Two English Lessons Down...

By the end of the week the kids were as worn out as we were. The first week of any school year is hard, but throw in 90 degree temperatures and even higher levels of humidity with the sun beating town on your back and your classroom, and anyone is going to succumb to fatigue and crying fits; 3-year-olds and 30-year-olds. I taught English Tuesday and Thursday, Venine taught French MWF; next week we will switch. This Thursday everyone put their colored images that go along with their first names on our door and found their corresponding cubbies. I think some actually knew what was happening and made the connection. I worked in small groups on sharing and please and thank you. That concept was a little hard to grasp because they aren't sure what 'please' means yet. Right now it's just a sound they can produce with their mouths to get the highly-coveted car, or 'machine' (which is everything to a 3-year-old in Haiti) from their friend.
Recess is always my highest stress point of the day. Even the mornings are going better, collecting the seven children from the neighboring village and walking them to meet the other nineteen from the bus. Only one, Samara, still cries. But by the time we arrive at the cafeteria she has now eventually stopped; success! Even Vava, who if I have blood diseases, has them now, smiles as she comes in the gate. Recess is stressful because there are 50 more kids in the school so that means another full class on the playground at one time. My previous director at the ISC would have an an aneurysm if she knew the teacher/child ratio on the playground here at any given time. I try to bring toys out for our kids because the slide is shared between classes so we are allowed to use it at morning recess but not at afternoon recess, so they have nothing to do. The swings have been removed because the support is unstable and the ground is covered in dirt, dust, and a large pile of un-spread mulch. My class is too young to know how to play together and so when I give them balls or tractors they usually clutch them tightly to their chests, terrified that one of the older kids is going to come take it away and play with it, never to return it; which, is usually what happens. I try to retrieve the toys for them as they're wailing in misery, but it's true that they also need to learn how to actually play with it as well. It's funny, kids in my class also put blocks and small toys in their pockets as they play. They actually stash their pockets, or anywhere they can find with toys. So a lot of toilet time is spent emptying their pockets and saying, 'no no no'. A guardian is supposed to ring a bell signifying the end of recess for everyone, all at once. At this time teachers clamor to find all of their students and have them stand still in a line, hands on shoulders, until they can wrangle up the rest. Children are in the wrong lines, mine follow any tall person they can find, or stand in another line, gripping their older brother or sister. It is a cacophony of sorts. Especially because, given their non-existent attention spans (they are three, so their attention span is about 1.5 minutes), my class begins to think it's a game of cat and mouse and start to run around the playground again as I start to chase them and bring them back into line, and attempt to get the others to stay in line, and so it goes. I hate recess. Also, (my director would recoil at this as well), there are two gates to the playground, but a giant, open, entryway between buildings that is never closed. So, the children run in and out of this space, which gives directly to the school's campus and grounds and to no supervision. If I develop ulcers from this time in Haiti, this will be the cause.
Otherwise, the second English day went smoothly. We re-read The Hungry Caterpillar and I could tell they enjoyed it more because they remembered the story. I also used some animal flashcards such as the lion, owl, and flamingo to do some quick and easy yoga poses with them; they loved that. And we used red circles (1, 2, 3) to make a caterpillar then play dough and lacing to create caterpillars from other toys in our class. It was good. Venine isn't used to having the entire group do the same activity at once. She would rather I split up the kids into smaller groups to really watch how they color, or build, or create and give them instruction and time to do it well (ie, perfectly). Very French I think as in the States we let the kid discover and create and if it isn't perfect we realize that he's three and has his whole life to attempt to live up to other people's standards. Ok, off the soapbox. Although, okay, I get the teaching aspect of that too. Still learning myself!
Below are some pictures from the class. Manndy has become a favorite and ultimate ham. He kept asking, 'take my picture, take my picture' as he posed. The little wasp of a girl with giant eyes is Vava. I'm afraid we already do have a bond of sorts since our tumultuous first day together. And there are a few of the mind-boggling color the sky turned last night. The photo unfortunately doesn't capture it, but it was astonishing. Right after a full double rainbow, half of the sky was a glowing, burning orange and the other half a deep cerulean blue; which looked immaculate against our orange houses. In the distance, lightening flashed behind the clouds above the mountains, and another rainbow formed to the west. We live in a giant terarium here.