All The World's A Stage.

Let's start with the positives.
Actually, I'm not so sure it's a "positive" but it's not the angry rant that I have brewing in the depths of my soul.

So let's start with something lighter.

Street kids.

They are literally on every street in Oaxaca. Hungry, dirty, hilarious, vivacious, little kids who typically spend their days begging for money.

And occasionally food.

Because I am almost 100% certain they don't get to keep the money they collect, I will not give them any. But food? Always.

If a child asks me for food, I will never say no. Starving or not.
And so today, when Lisa and I were walking to the little park to sit and eat lunch, and this little chico came up alongside us asking for some of our peanuts, we happily obliged.

And I gave him a sucker.
And then a woman passed by, selling alegría and I bought those and gave him that, too.

The look on his face was pure shock. He had only asked for peanuts.
He walked back towards his accordion-playing dad with his hands full, and a spring in his step, and I felt a little better knowing that they'd have something extra to eat today.

- - - - -

Now about that angry rant.

As much as I love Oaxaca - and I really, really love it here - there is one thing that I just can't figure out how to approach: the bounty of unwanted attention.

I can handle the annoying noises.
I just pretend I don't hear them. I keep my head down. I don't make eye contact. I don't say hello.
Well, 88% of the time.

But despite trying to make myself invisible, the fact of the matter is simply that I'm not. And I'm different.

And I'm not sure why, but for some reason my differentness seems to be synonymous with "Hey, complete stranger! Yeah, you! I don't know you but why don't you come talk to me? I'd really love to answer all your really personal questions!"

At least once a day, but usually 2 or 3 times, I am approached by a complete stranger (of the male variety). Sometimes, these conversations are innocent: why are you here, what do you think about Oaxaca?

But more often than not, they go like this:
Them: (catching pace with me) "Hola."
Me: - Looking at them without saying anything. -
Them: Are you here for vacations?
Me: No. I live here.
Them: What do you do?
Me: I have a job. That's why I live here.
Them: Where did you learn Spanish?
Me: Good question.
Them: Where do you live?
Me: Here.
Them: - laughing because I'm being difficult. -
Me: - still walking -
Them: You're really a beautiful woman.

This typically ends in a proposition of some sort. Am I interested in going to a hotel? Do I want to hook up somewhere? Do I live alone?

What I want...is to walk down the street...in peace.

I realize this sounds like a silly thing to continue to be angry about. But, unless you have to deal with it on a regular basis, you don't really get it. A lot of people here don't get it. I was recently walking down the street with a male friend, local to the area, and out of seemingly nowhere he exasperatedly said, "Is this what it's like for you every time you leave the house?"

And all he was witnessing were the stares. I was walking with him, so no one was going to say anything to me.

Before I could answer his question, he answered it himself saying that it's probably 10x worse when I'm by myself, and that he'd never realized it was so bad.

- - - - -

This is the last I'll complain about it for a while. But sometimes it destroys your confidence. It shakes you. It makes you question everything about yourself. The way you're dressed, the way you walk, the way you hold your head up. It makes you hyper aware of everything.

You always have an audience.

But I have found that if you make a really ridiculous face at people when they say something crass, they often don't know what to do with themselves, or how to interact with you.

And it's hilarious.

When You Give a Mouse a Cookie...

My students are 12 - 13 years old. They're on the threshold - you know, still watching iCarly, playing make believe and sleeping with cartoon themed sheets and pillow cases - but toeing the line. They're starting to wear make up and curling their hair, experiencing life at such a heightened state that everything is something that could possibly end their very existence.

It's cute.

I like that they are on the threshold. They aren't afraid to be good at school. It's not too cool to be smart, yet. They don't ignore you if they see you on the street, and they openly admit their need for help, love and affirmation.

And, like 70% of the time, they have such innocent senses of humor.

Recently, I expressed my undying love for Thor to the class. This week, I received several valentines from Thor...notes were taped to my computer that expressed my love for Thor, my smart board was tagged with Thor's name and hearts...

It makes me happy to know that this really trivial piece of information brings them so much joy.

I better come up with another one, fast. Next week, poor Thor will be old news.

----

Things I heard this week that made me happy:

- Ms. Hansen, can I schedule lunch with you next week? I really need to talk through some things, and you're the only adult in the building I trust.

- Thanks for making my first year at a new school so easy. I was really nervous, and your support and encouragement has been really helpful.

- It'd be really cool if you came on this summer trip with the organization I volunteer with. I wouldn't even get tired of having my teacher on my summer break because you're pretty cool.

- Can I hang out in your room? I'm having a really hard day. 

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends.

School has been in session now for 7 days (I subtracted the weekend/holiday). Everyday as I am leaving I think to myself, "Gee, Nikki. You really ought to sit down and write about what you're doing. Write about what happened today." So I sit down. I grab a pen. I open my laptop.

Whatever.

I try to write, but nothing comes.

Okay. That's a lie. Lots of things come to mind when I sit down to write, but I can't put the words together in a fine, prose-like fashion. If I let the words loose, they will come out jumbled and jagged. Unruly and loud. They'll slip and stumble instead of aligning neatly.

Actually, that sounds a lot like my 7th graders.

Because I seem to be unable to write everything I'd like to, I'm just going to write a list of the things I have found interesting thus far:

1.) I did not experience any 1st day jitters. None!
2.) A large, stuffed teddy bear can do a lot to calm down energetic children.
3.) My largest class (40) is easier to contain than my 5th hour class (25).
4.) iPods are not the enemy.
5.) Students will still ask you the directions, even after you have had them repeat the steps back to you at least 3 times...
6.) Sometimes, it's more effective to just use a regular speaking voice than it is to yell.

Actually, let's talk about #6. Something crazy fascinating happened in my last hour, today. They were (understandably) unruly. We had a lot to get through, and 3/4 of the class was waiting on 1/4 of the chatty cathy's to shut up. So, instead of yelling, "Quiet down, folks!" I just started using my "normal" voice. I gave the directions, and then started reading the excerpt we were focusing on. The kids who wanted to hear me actually came and stood in a circle around me (a decision they made totally on their own). This really caught the attention of the kids who had been off task, and they came and joined the circle. Soon, everyone was silent and engaged - we were totally able to complete our learning goal.

So there you have it.
The kids are crazy, the expectations are high, and I am exactly where I am supposed to be.