This week while at lunch with a fellow teacher she told me that she thought I was very valiente {vah-lee-en-tay} brave. Brave for moving to a country that was not my own. Brave for moving far from my family. Brave for living alone. Brave for living every day in a second language. I smiled and thanked for the compliment, but then I also had to kindly tell her that I didn't really agree with her. I don't feel all that brave, especially after reading the definition above. When, during my move here, have I endured danger or pain? Did it really frighten me to move here? I of course can understand why my colleague found these actions to be brave: here in Chile it is common for multiple generations of families to live together in one house, and if they do leave home, they don't go too far. I have had lots of practice discussing this very issue with many concerned Chileans and I passionately believe every word when I tell them: "I am not defined by a nationality nor confined by borders. For me, the thought of moving to another country is equal to that of moving to another state or city: new job, new cultures, new friends. I had the privilege to attend a wonderful university, but it was away from my family. I had the privilege of a wonderful teaching job right out of college, but it was even further away from my family. Skype, long car rides, and plane rides are a reality...how blessed to be living in a time with such technology! But most of all I know that God is constantly with me, providing me with more than what I need and blessing me with new friends and family. Sure, sometimes it is rough and sometimes I long to be home, but the life I am living here every day is important too." I recognize that some people find these actions to be courageous and I am very flattered that someone might choose to bestow such a lovely adjective upon me...but from my point of view I just don't see it. So, that got me thinking...the common usage of the word "brave" is rather subjective. When we see someone fighting through or doing something that would be difficult or fearful for us personally, we declare them brave and courageous. So, according to this definition, here are just a few people I personally declare to be brave: *People who serve in the armed forces, putting their own life on the line. *A surgeon who holds someone's life in their hands. *Parents...who hold someone's life and the future of our world in their hands. *Pilots who lands a 75,000 lb airplane that is traveling around 200 mph. ( But seriously, how do airplanes even work again...? #mindblown) (Feel free to leave a comment below celebrating who you define as brave!) And of course, the best part of all is God's grace. His grace is the reason I don't have to be afraid. His undeserved love for me gives me the strength that I need to be confident each day of my life, no matter where I am. Grace changes everything.
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School has been in session for about a month now. This year I am blessed to still be able to work as a teacher's assistant in the community of Longaví. Last semester I was working with the English teachers at the high school in town and this year I am working at the elementary school. The official name of the school is "Escuela Juan de la Cruz Dominguez Gonzalez". However the school is also fondly known as "La Unificada" which means "The Unified" because just a few decades ago the school was divided into a girls' school and a boys' school. The school hosts about 450 students from 1st grade--8th grade. Each level is divided into 2 classes "A" and "B", with each class having between 25-35 students. The English department is fortunate enough to have its own classroom available to work in! See that man there on the right? That is Jorge San Martin Villalobos. He is 62 years old, knows everything that there is to know about Longaví, likes a nap after lunch, and is THE kindest person in the ENTIRE world (I'm not even exaggerating). Oh, yeah, and I get to teach with him. #blessed Here is a quick tour of the English classroom: The textbooks we use: The English taught here in Chile is decidedly British. *giggles* The building is in a "W" shape and has 2 floors. Here are a few photos of the school & yard: Correcting. Wherever there is teaching, there will always be correcting to do. How would you feel if you got back a paper and it looked like this: You might feel pretty terrible...but here in Chile, those marks are cause for rejoicing! Every question is marked in some way whether it is correct or incorrect. To leave a test or paper blank is a great way to cause confusion for a Chilean student. Correct answers receive a check mark and incorrect answers an X. The grading system in Chile is numbered from 1,0 to 7,0 (not A B C D F). Anywhere from 6,0 to 6,9 is within the A range and a 4,0 is the lowest passing grade. If you're really curious, click HERE to see the equivalencies. My schedule this year allows me the time to work with students from 3rd-8th grades. There are some distinct changes going from working in a high school to an elementary school and both have their charms. For example, just walking past the younger grades I can't help but feel like a rock star: "¡Tía!" (Aunty!) "¡Miss Jennifer!" "Teacher!" "¡Miss, te quiero!" (I love you!) "Hello!" "¿Por qué es usted tan alta?" (Why are you so tall?) "¿Cuándo nos toca con usted?" (When do we have class?) All of this accompanied by hugs, kisses, high-fives, and 'secret' handshakes. Oh, and of course, love notes and drawings: They say pictures are worth a thousand words...and if that's true, well then congratulations because you just read over 24,000 words! Thank you for taking the time to get to know a bit more about the blessings of my life in the southern hemisphere and if you have any questions, just have your people call my people...or leave a comment below.
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