Hot and happy

Even though most of you have heard me complain about it a LOT by now, let me jut say it one more time: It is so damn hot here.

When I first arrived in Cartagena, we were in the "cool" season: Mid-80s and something like 60 or 70 percent humidity, with some nice breezes. I mean, it still felt pretty hot, especially during school, as we are in class during the hottest time of the day, packed into small classrooms with 40 or so students and a few fans.

Panorama of my school

But now, we're entering the hot, humid, rainy season ... And the stakes are rising.

Temperature-wise, it doesn't ever sound that bad. The days usually climb into the low-90s. The kicker, of course, is the high humidity thanks to the rain, and the fact that that lovely ocean breeze has all but disappeared. All of those factors combined usually prompt my weather app to tell me that the temperature in my room at 9 p.m. may be 84 degrees, but it "feels like" 102.

I'm not saying this to complain, or even to make anyone think that I am making some huge sacrifice by being hot or a little uncomfortable. I've had a lot of people here tell me there is no use dwelling on the weather, because that is just how it is. After all, each one of us s is going through the exact same thing.

Still, being a mountain lady (and seeing pictures of Colorado as our state enters yet another gorgeous season), it's been surprisingly difficult for me to accept the fact that I must be hot all the time. 

I couldn't help but wonder what it must be like for the teaching volunteers placed in other parts of Colombia. Those lucky volunteers living in Medellin, for example -- affectionately called the City of Eternal Spring because of it's ridiculously agreeable, springlike temperatures year-round. Those volunteers were surely sleeping soundly in their comfortable climates.

Of course, it wasn't long before simple and earnest comment from a good friend changed my perspective.

"Well," she said. "Who knows how it would have been different if you were placed somewhere else."

It's true. As much as I hate to admit it to my jealous self, I really don't think I could trade the good things I have found in Cartagena for the much cooler, more comfortable unknown.

The fact is, I love my school. My co-teacher is one of the best in Colombia. And my students are the absolute coolest people I have ever met.

Another shot of my school

I know I've already written a bit about my perception of Colombian students -- their obvious energy, their zest for being alive, their camaraderie among each other and the frequency with which I spot a giant, genuine, teeth-all-out smile. Of course, I don't think those are characteristics that are specific just to Colombian students. But, they are all I know, and that is definitely the best way I can describe them.

There is also something more about them, though, that is inspiring.

Every one of my students -- even the ones with their heads on their desks in the back -- want to learn. All it takes is a little bit of a nudge from me. Five minutes of not letting them off the hook before they pronounce "war" and "word" correctly, and I see an almost-immediate return on investment.

And these are students who deal with a lot. Many of my students' home lives have been dangerous, unstable, unhappy, hungry and generally difficult just in the time I have known them.

They are students who want to learn, despite the fact that many things aren't set up in their favor. It's no big deal for a student or two to write in his or her lap for the day because there aren't quite enough desks, and they got the last pick. There is one copy machine at the school, but no resources for paper or ink, so it is custom for students to pay for their own copies. That means very few copies of any material, and lots of group work. There usually isn't working internet in the school, and a great deal of student work is still handwritten. Textbooks are next to nonexistent.

In the local government, too, there is a good deal of dysfunction. Our cafeteria just opened one week ago (school has been in session for three months) because the money budgeted for school meals just wasn't there. There are teacher and janitor strikes on the reg. Resources, promises and changes, in general, often don't trickle down to the schools.

And yet. Every day I come to school, I see those same,  toothy smiles. It's incredible. Together, with their silly songs and dances, the sideways glances they give me in class while all of us sweat our butts off together, my students are an impossibly infinite reserve of hope and optimism.

So, yeah, I may be hot. But I really don't think at this point that I would trade my students for any other place.

When a mariachi band came to our school. The students freaked!