Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone's lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don't have to compromise convictions to be compassionate. – Rick Warren
Wednesday, August 1, 2012 (DAY 150)
The first morning of volunteering at the Nicaragua Children’s Foundation Special Needs School and I am anxious to begin even though I am not quite sure exactly what I will be doing. The time is 6:15am as I pull myself out of bed and look across the room to find that Marc is already awake and moving about. In spite of my monetary bribes he still refuses to use his toothbrush and even as I sneak to place some Listerine in his water container, he dumps it out on the ground with a cheeky grin as if to say, nice try. This man-child refuses to accept the most archaic forms of hygiene and therefore I have given up in my numerous attempts. Maybe one day someone will get through to him, but apparently, today is not that day. Shortly after 7:30am we head out with our small daypacks and bottles of water. Walking north down the cobblestone streets that ends with an uphill climb around the bend in the road, the early morning sun is already causing us to feel the exhaustion of the heat. Upon arriving at the school we are told that the bus should be arriving shortly, which gives us a brief moment to relax in the upstairs portion of the building dedicated to Spanish lessons. Sitting on an old couch as the ceiling fans stir up the air and muffled conversations continue around us between teachers and their students, suddenly we hear the commotion downstairs and what I thought would be a school bus is actually a small passenger van that has arrived to take us to the remote school location. Squeezing in to the front seat we are greeted with smiles and many holas, as we begin driving down the road.
The first morning of volunteering at the Nicaragua Children’s Foundation Special Needs School and I am anxious to begin even though I am not quite sure exactly what I will be doing. The time is 6:15am as I pull myself out of bed and look across the room to find that Marc is already awake and moving about. In spite of my monetary bribes he still refuses to use his toothbrush and even as I sneak to place some Listerine in his water container, he dumps it out on the ground with a cheeky grin as if to say, nice try. This man-child refuses to accept the most archaic forms of hygiene and therefore I have given up in my numerous attempts. Maybe one day someone will get through to him, but apparently, today is not that day. Shortly after 7:30am we head out with our small daypacks and bottles of water. Walking north down the cobblestone streets that ends with an uphill climb around the bend in the road, the early morning sun is already causing us to feel the exhaustion of the heat. Upon arriving at the school we are told that the bus should be arriving shortly, which gives us a brief moment to relax in the upstairs portion of the building dedicated to Spanish lessons. Sitting on an old couch as the ceiling fans stir up the air and muffled conversations continue around us between teachers and their students, suddenly we hear the commotion downstairs and what I thought would be a school bus is actually a small passenger van that has arrived to take us to the remote school location. Squeezing in to the front seat we are greeted with smiles and many holas, as we begin driving down the road.
After just a few short moments we stop and pick up the last student, who sadly is in an old wheelchair. Reaching for the nonexistent interior door handle prepared to get out and help, there is already someone that has slid open the side door and quickly moved down the hill towards the smiling little boy. Expecting him to push the wheelchair up the dirty mound, instead he picks up the boy and carries him to the van. This is a moment that I will never forget. The smiling expression on this young boy’s face as he was so excited to be going to school. Arriving several minutes later at the special needs school, the building is painted with several designs of children in bright colors on the wall and we are positioned in a circle as a large ball is pushed around and introductions are made. First, there is the shy hesitation of our presence as the newbies to the group, but sitting and smiling the kids quickly warm up to us and their curiosity sets in. The small classroom has only fifteen children, and I am paired up with Amanda, who is mentally handicapped but can communicate on a very basic level. The first portion of the morning I am helping her with basic math writing simple addition and subtraction problems as we count out together the answers. Since my Spanish is still in areas of limbo, this is an easier verbal exercise for me and the smile she shoots in my direction when she completes a problem with the correct answer is such a rewarding feeling and I cannot help but smile back at her and give her a high-five.
The hot classroom is beginning to feel stifling, but soon the teacher announces that it is recess and we all gather outside the small building under the shade and the kids begin to kick around soccer balls and carry out toys to the concrete slab that has a long wooden bench against the metal fencing. Thinking of more ways to break the ice with some of the other kids, I pull out my iPhone and begin showing them their reflections on the screen. Smiling and laughing at this technological achievement to them, it does the trick and soon they are huddled around me, sitting on my lap, all waving and laughing at the reflection of themselves. Just before 11am, recess has come to an end and the last hour of the day is spent practicing reading with Amanda. Looking over the children’s book about a lost cat in Spanish I cannot help but notice that it has been donated from the Adams County Library. Unsure if this is from the same county I grew up in from Colorado, I could not think about how ironic this situation could be if that were the case, but am proud to witness that even the smallest of donations make their way to the areas that need them, often the most. Before I know it, the time is approaching noon, and the end of another school day for all of the students. As I help to put away cracked plastic lawn chairs that must be doubled up to support anyone sitting in them, I notice Daniel, the small boy that was carried from his wheelchair to the van, and he is walking up and down with short steps as he clings to the green handrails that help support him. Walking over to encourage him, he gives me a smile as he slowly brings up each foot, and I feel as though he has been the one to encourage me.
Climbing back in to the van that doubles as a school bus, I count almost twenty people through the huddled heads. I can only imagine what the Department of Education would say in the transportation of special needs children without seat belts as they are crammed in to such an old mode of transportation. Reaching the small uphill incline where the dirt road meets the pavement of the single lane highway, our poor little van stalls and the engine shuts down. This in turn causes the kids in the van to begin laughing and hollering, which causes Marc and I to begin laughing as well. After multiple attempts by our driver to turn over the engine, several of us climb out and push the red van backwards out of the way of oncoming traffic turning down the narrow road in our direction. Even this small exertion in the heat has me sweating profusely and we decide to try and push the van forward with enough momentum to pop the clutch and start up the engine. The countdown of uno, dos, tres has us running in flip flops as we push the van forward, but soon, the roaring sound of the engine comes to life and once again there are cheers from inside the hot cramped van that is full of smiles.
Climbing back in to the van that doubles as a school bus, I count almost twenty people through the huddled heads. I can only imagine what the Department of Education would say in the transportation of special needs children without seat belts as they are crammed in to such an old mode of transportation. Reaching the small uphill incline where the dirt road meets the pavement of the single lane highway, our poor little van stalls and the engine shuts down. This in turn causes the kids in the van to begin laughing and hollering, which causes Marc and I to begin laughing as well. After multiple attempts by our driver to turn over the engine, several of us climb out and push the red van backwards out of the way of oncoming traffic turning down the narrow road in our direction. Even this small exertion in the heat has me sweating profusely and we decide to try and push the van forward with enough momentum to pop the clutch and start up the engine. The countdown of uno, dos, tres has us running in flip flops as we push the van forward, but soon, the roaring sound of the engine comes to life and once again there are cheers from inside the hot cramped van that is full of smiles. Through this first day of volunteering I have realized that it is not nearly as important where I’ve been, in comparison to when I look ahead to see where I am currently going. The fulfillment of what I have done with my Wednesday morning has brought more rewards than I could have possibly imagined and I am extremely thankful for this wonderful experience.
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