dis-1. —prefix. 1. indicating reversal

I wish it wasn't

so difficult to believe

that I'm beautiful.

Too many thoughts stay

inside my head. It's too much

I am just one girl.

Haiku's are awful

I never get to express

What I really mean.

Books

Don’t judge a book by its cover.


“Tell me a story- a small story, a true story (or as true as you can tell it), a story from your heart, a story from your life. Tell me of a time you lost something, your keys, your heart, your mind, your mother or father, your way in the world- or tell me about a small joy you had today. Tell me a story, and your telling it will change you, and your telling it will change me, and such stories will move us both closer to the light.”
-Lynn Nelson


We hear it all the time as kids: Don’t judge a book by its cover. But how often, in our protected and innocent lives as children- are we faced with such big concepts?
Though not always, and certainly through no malicious intent, we grow into our comfort zone. Our experiences through life soften our hearts, and harden our eyes. Eventually, if you so choose, you can look at someone, with eyes that do not see them.

Costa Rica was life altering for me. Though I try to be open minded, I too am guilty of judging someone before I even know anything about them. When we do this, we cheat them, and we cheat ourselves.
The twelve of us met each other only a few weeks ago- all of us different. All of us came toting the books of our lives under our arms, eager to fill a new chapter in them. All our books contain stories that have shaped us; into who we have been, who we are, and inevitably who we will be. By only looking at the covers of our books- we shouldn’t have gotten along. But we started to read each other, and we started to look in order to see.

There are pages full of wonder and adaptation in my story of Costa Rica. Words and events that inspire me to continue to look past the surface- of a city, of a school, of a face. Sentences that make me crave knowledge until I know things, know people. Getting to know all of you was one of the most enriching experiences of my life.
Costa Rica has taught me that a poor school can be rich with pure hearts, that someone who does not share your language can share a laugh- that children, regardless of where they stand on a monetary line- are bright, pure of heart, and innocent. Joyous, and in constant awe of the world around them.

This trip has taught me that labels, that abstractions, of who we are do nothing but build borders around our hearts, around our softness.
A teacher at Country Day School confronted me about being from Arizona. Hearing where I lived was enough for him to write me off as an ignorant racist. Looking back now, all I can think is: “What a waste.” He wrote me off in his book of life, slammed my book shut before I could even show him my own beliefs or ideas.

And now, as a student, as a teacher, as a person, I can no longer accept momentarily skimming a person and taking them at face vaule. We are all so much more than just a sentence.

“I’m a teen mother.”
“I’m an immigrant.”
“I didn’t go to college.”
“I’m scared.”

No one sentence can sum up anyone. No one characteristic defines us as the person we are. Costa Rica has taught me to open my heart, and to open my eyes. To take the time to read the chapters that make us who we are. Costa Rica taught me that you can find love anywhere. From the bottom of a canyon to the desks we sat in at their schools. From flattery of tour guides to beans and fruit punch that had been prepared just for us by school attendants who were beyond wonderful.

Costa Rica has taught me that all we have is who we are, and that being rich doesn’t come from having thousands of Colones, but from having a number of people that you have read and accepted, just the way they are.

Raul

I stifled a yawn as I walked towards the bed. Though foreign, it let me sleep better than any mattress at home ever did. I crawled under the blankets and flipped off the light. As I started to drift to sleep, I thought I heard the voices of the other girls in the room next to me, but I was too tired to join. I quickly drifted to sleep.
I was soon awoken by the sound of screams. Blood curdling, murderous screams. I flung the blankets off of me and rushed next door, frantic at what I would find.

I ran through the door just in time to see something that looked like a black ping pong ball fall from the ceiling onto the floor. And land with a stomach lurching "thunk". Enter Raul; the biggest fucking bug I've ever seen. A creepy, awful loud ass motherfucking beetle from HELL. Befuddled and angry as fuck to have left his fiery dimension of doom, he surely would have taken us all on had he not foolishly landed on his back, thus dazing him. My roommate Maci ran to him and without knowing what else to do, started to spray Raul with bug spray. She continued to spray about half the can onto our nemesis. In our panic we had forgotten that bug spray repels bugs, it doesn't kill them.

I looked as the mist hit Raul, and I swear to god, I think he liked it. Stoned now, he casually flicked his pincers, no, talons, in the air, and if I didn't know any better, I'd bet my money that he winked at us. "Come get me," he taunts us. "I fucking dare you."

Maci continues to battle against him, and manages to scoop him up with a cup and get him into a plastic bag. Raul is still not dead, mind you. Maci flung him into the plants, and I'm sure if our ears could pick up such decibels, we'd still hear Raul chuckling as he came down from his bug spray high. I'm sure whenever he sobers up enough he will mosey back to whatever sector of hell he came from.

Corazons.

Today was an experience that moved all of us profoundly. The entire day was an amazing adventure, and one of my favorite parts was learning that even though two people can speak different languages, they can still communicate effectively with one another.

We arrived at the breakfast tables at Costa Verde Inn around 7am. Anxious and excited, we filled ourselves with Costa Rican coffee and toast, juice, rice, cereal- whatever each of us fancied, and then prepared for the walk to the school.

The walk was completely uphill, and for those of you in Arizona who are following us on this blog, let us tell you that walking at a steep incline in a tropical environment leaves one feeling energized and very very hot.

We all arrived at Corazon de Jesus excited and a glistening a bit, but were welcomed with open arms and warm eyes. Maci, Jennifer and I went into Maria's 4th grade classroom, and were immediately swept into a kind, loving environment.

We walk in, and the students are clean cut and well behaved. The room is clean, softly lit by natural lighting and bears large windows on the far wall. There is no air conditioning, and while there is a fan in the room, it remains off. The teacher, Maria, is wonderfully nice, and though she does not speak a word of English, she made us feel welcome.

The students begin their day by singing a song, which is not intended for us, since we know that this school has no phone and they were unsure of what time of the day we would be stopping by. The children sing exhuberently in unison. As they finish and settle down, they start taking turns reading from their Spanish grammar book. The class seats 25, and the desks are arranged in a circle. There are only 24 students, so Maria takes a seat among them. Though she often does not ask questions to the students, she does correct them and smile encouragingly at them as they read.

Maci saves the day with her impressive acquisition of the Spanish language, and after asking the teacher if it is okay to take photographs, we begin to snap pictures. I notice that Maria is amazingly well dressed. She wears heels, slacks, and a blouse with a blazer. Her hair has been straightened and coiffed, her make up beautiful from her bronzed eyeshadow to her red lipstick. She carries a dominance with her that takes control over her class, and still emits the grace of a motherly figure. The students respect her, and pay attention to her.

**As a side note, I'd like to mention that one of my favorite parts of the day was telling the professor (in very chopped Spanish unfortunately) "Yo quiero hablar Espanol muy mal", which, I had hoped would equal out to "I want to speak Spanish very badly". Her response was "Yo quiero hablar Ingles!". I thought it was so special that two people attempting to make a connection would say that they wish they spoke each others language, as oppose to wanting the other person to speak theirs. But I digress**

While sitting there, I realize every once in a while that the children become chittery and rowdy. This makes me smile. It reminds me very much of my own elementary school, Cielo, and shows me that regardless the differences in a culture, or the intricacies of a society- regardless of where you find yourself in the world, children are children. They are bright, eager, and funny, constantly willing to adapt and learn something new, and socially blooming into the world around them.

As I converse with a fellow student of Arizona State University she tells me that a quote on the wall of the classroom she was observing says: "Nosotros fuimas creados por amor y para amor a los otros", which translates into: "We are created to love and be loved in return." This makes my heart sing, and as I discuss this with Maci and Caroline, I realize they feel the same way. My experience at Corazon de Jesus is one that will stick with me eternally. Everyone in our group met so many wonderful people, teachers and students alike, and Maci and I had the luck of meeting two wonderful children named Josue and Anarosa.

We left feeling lightened and happy. Though none of us knew it yet, we left changed.