On the Front Lines

I'm on the front lines. I've caught a two year old half a second before he would have been hit by a car, after an overburdened mother of four accidently left the daycare center's gate open. I've been the target of hits, kicks, bites, and screams, without the option to fight back. I've been witness to a three year old's sudden violence after too much stimulation, and caught children literally flying through the air. I've worked with children with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, autism, Down's Syndrome, bipolar disorder, and Sensory Integration Dysfunction. I've been bled on, and wondered how much I should worry---the child's mother did do drugs.


Name any bodily fluid, and I've encountered it. Projectile vomit? Check. One day in the one year olds' classroom crossed that one off my list. Poop? The infant room did that one in, when a child with a stomach bug had a leaky diaper. Blood? I've had a bloody hand unceremoniously dumped in mine after a rough fall.


I've translated for a frantic grandmother whose granddaughter was locked in a car, a mother who just got divorced, and a teacher when a sweet, peaceful child got badly bitten.

I am the subject of violence on a daily basis, without the option of fighting back. An angry child in the midst of a manic episode can have superhuman strength!

And people still think teachers aren't underpaid?

I'm On My Way

I just bought my airline ticket yesterday, and am still in shock. June 22nd, just past five a.m., I will be on my way back to Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. I'll be renting a room in the two story home of a sweet Mayan family. I'll be living with a Mayan priest, his kind wife, their twenty-four year old daughter, and her baby girl.

I now have a working ATM card, a luxury I didn't have on my last trip. Four months and two wire transfers later, I now fully understand the little indulgences that Western society provides us.

I will be volunteering part-time in a daycare for at-risk children. We primarily serve single, working mothers with children between 18 months and five years of age.

To fund my stay, I will be teaching English in a language school, and working in a bookstore. I found this tiny, high-shelved bookstore during my four month study abroad trip, and knew that it was the place for me. I had found my dream job.

I am well stocked with malaria medication, and now just need to leave my travel plans with the US embassy in case of natural disaster or political unrest. Hurricane season lasts through August, so I won't be doing much travelling for a while. The chicken buses are adventure enough on their own; landslides are not needed to throw a little more excitement into the midst.