Speechless

I titled this post "Speechless" because that is exactly what I am. For anyone who knows me, you know that this is not exactly a common occurrence. If anything it would do me some good to not always have something to say. Maybe that's why God took all the words out of my mouth this morning. 

Today is Thursday, so I went to teach English to my little munchkins. For anyone who read my post about the munchkins last week, you'll remember that I mentioned a little boy with special needs. Today I found out that his name is Javier. Javier and I interacted some last week. I helped him cut out his pirate eye patch and just made some small talk with him. His is one of those incredible children who, although they cannot say very much, are able to make your day with their bright eyes and sweet smile that effortlessly light up an entire room. Well today Javier and I met again except for this time out on the playground. 

I watched as the teacher, Natalia, brought Javier his walker. It took a lot of effort, but he was able to wriggle and twist his way off the ground to where he could hold himself up and walk just a little. He walks very slowly, so he lags behind all of his classmates. I decided to stay back and walk with him in order to keep him company. 

I noticed something when I did this. There were two little girls, I believe their names are Cristina and Maria, who began starting at me intently. They were giving me that sort of confused intrigued look that silently speaks their thoughts of, "What is she doing?" So I decided to walk a little faster in order to catch up with the other five-year olds. I did this as sort of an experiment. I wanted to listen to what the niñas were saying and what they were going to do. To my pleasant surprise Maria grabbed Cristina's hand, started smiling, and led her friend over to Javier. The two girls then began to walk with him  and happily chatted with him all the way. Javier's face absolutely lit up. So did mine. 

Javier was led by one of the assistants to the elevator, and I went on my way to the classroom. The assistant arrived with Javier a few minutes later. I had already started my lesson and had forty-eight eyes and raised eyebrows looking at me in confusion as I explained what a sea horse is in English. I was interrupted by the assistant when he looked at Natalia and asked, "Who is Christina?" I raised my hand and told him that I'm Christina. He asked if I'd been here before. I replied by saying that this was my second week volunteering here. He made my day with his response. The assistant looked at me, smiling, and said, "You must have made quite an impression on Javier. He wouldn't stop talking about you for the past five minutes. He kept saying the Spanish equivalent to, 'Christina here. Christina here. Where Christina?' He must really like you." The assistant then walked off and got Javier settled into the classroom. I'm sure that I had an odd-looking smile on my face. I was elated and shocked all at the same time. I've always known that investing time and kindness into children sows some seeds with the utmost rewards. It's one of the biggest reasons I decided to become a teacher. And I've worked with children of all ages throughout my life. However, I've never made that fast of a positive impression on a child, at least not that I know of. 

On almost every street corner...
(Homeless man in Barcelona--Google Images)

That lesson and experience put me on cloud nine for the day. However, just when I thought that God had taught me His lesson for the day, He proved me wrong. I was walking home from the school and I had stopped to just wander through some of the local shops. I noticed that I was getting really hungry, so I quickly began to walk home. Yet instead of taking my usual, direct route, I ended up turning down some street I've never been down for no apparent reason at all. I even thought to myself, "Why did you come this way? You're starving and it'll probably take you an extra 20 minutes to find your way back now." I continued walking down the street when I looked to my right and saw a homeless man sleeping. Like at home, this is a rather common occurrence. Normally I do the terrible thing and think of some lame excuse as to why not to help the person. It's usually along the lines of, "Oh, well their probably just looking for a handout to go feed some addiction." However, I do give every once in awhile when I really feel led to. This man looked the same as all the others. Dirty, tired, hungry, kind of sickly, with a shopping cart near by with his few belongings. But for some reason, he was different. 

He stopped me right in my tracks without so much as a word or even a look. Yet I kept walking. I took about two steps and I felt something say, "Seriously, Christina? You want to help him you know that, so why don't you do it. This man is different. Look at him; he needs help." Oddly enough I looked right beside where I was I was standing...a grocery store. I went in and bought some bread and fruit. It was about all that they had, and I only had one Euro in my pocket to buy him food with. I wrapped up all the food and laid it beside him without saying a word. I've never, ever, in my life seen a person's eyes get so big and bright. It's like I'd handed him the whole world. That's the only exchange we had, a brief two-second, eye-to-eye, thank you. 

I'm not a cryer. Never have been, never want to be. But for some reason I started bawling on the side of the street. If I wasn't getting enough stares due to my American attire, this helped to rack me up the ones that I was missing out on. It's like something had finally connected inside of me. That's about the only way that I know how to describe it. I know that to most of the world, I am the 1%, not the 99%. I have everything I need plus so much more. Just five minutes before passing this man I was contemplating going out later that day to buy more clothes that I definitely don't need just because I feel a little uncomfortable here. I was even thinking about how nice it would be to have some extra money to be able to go out for coffee and tapas because that's what it seems that the locals do here...spend, eat, spend.

From the time that you're a child you're taught to give to the less fortunate and help others. My mom always had my sister and I give our toys, clothes, and other unnecessary items to people who had less. We worked in soup kitchens, donated money, ect. However, I, like everyone else, forget how good I really do have it. Furthermore, I have failed to realize that this is a world-wide phenomenon. In 2005, there were 19,000 homeless people in Spain. This was prior to the economy's downfall. Since then unemployment has skyrocketed, and I mean skyrocketed to a 20% overall unemployment rate. To make it worse, there are few government funds allocated to help ease these people's burden. And the funds that are available are not nearly enough. Even for those with resources, this is an expensive country. I can't imagine what it's like for those who are truly struggling.

I did not plan on telling about my encounter with this gentleman let alone writing this short novel. I'm not a person who believes in displaying so called "Good Samaritan" moments. However, I felt compelled to do so this time for one reason, enlightenment. Not exactly political enlightenment or even to encourage everyone to go sell all their belongings and give all their money to people. No, that's not why. I'm doing this in order to share my enlightenment on the little lessons. Before i left to come to Spain, I knew that God had a purpose for allowing me to come. Everything lined up too easily for it not to be at His hand. I've been expecting some awesome, hallelujah chorus transformation or vision or something. That's not exactly what's been happening. Instead, He's teaching me little by little instead of just smacking me in the face like usual (that's what He has to do to the extremely stubborn, slightly air-headed people). He's opening my eyes just a little each day in situations and places that I never expect. Whether it's with Javier from my kindergarten classroom, taking me down a different street to meet a gentleman, or just making me appreciate even more what He's given me at home. God's teaching me far more than I ever expected He's just doing it "poco a poco" ... "little by little," which I'm learning can be far more powerful than I ever imagined. 

What I Miss and Enjoy the Most

The Things I Miss the Most 

My family: Once again, saw this one coming right?

My furry child: Everyone here has cute little dogs which makes me miss mine that much more. Secondly, when you’re feeling down few things can make you feel better than your sweetest best friend crawling up in your bed next to you, giving you puppy “kisses,” and looking at you with eyes that say, “It’s all going to be alright.”

My church family: Oftentimes you don’t realize how much that support means until you’re so far away from it. 

My bed: Oh. My. Gosh. Parentals, if you’re reading this I hear that FedEx is doing a special on shipping beds overseas. They’ll ship my dog in free if you just let them know that your sweet, loving daughter is homesick in Spain. 

Oatmeal: Or just normal breakfast foods in general. I mean a piece of toast every day is great and all, but I have a little monster inside who gets angry when that’s all that it’s got to work with for the next six to seven hours. 

Sweatpants and a Hoodie: It’s amazing how comforting big cotton pants can be. Yes, I have some track pants to sleep in; not the same. Everyone said, “Oh, you don’t need them. They take up space.” If anyone reading this is going to study abroad, don’t listen to those people. Bring your comfy clothes!

Dressing Normally: All I keep telling my parents is that I can’t wait to come home, put on jeans and a t-shirt, go to the grocery store, and not feel like people feel like I am on the top-ten list of worst people on earth. It gets tiring trying to figure out how to be a top-model when one, you don’t want to, and two when you have less than a dozen articles of clothing in your closet.

Grass and Dirt: Pavement, cobblestone, and more pavement and cobblestone. Yep, that’s pretty much what Spain consists of. Even the small parks only have a small grassy patch, but you don’t want to sit there because of the mountains of dog poop. I can’t wait to walk barefoot in a big grassy yard. 

Work, UNCA, ect: So as crazy as my life is at home, I miss it. Yes, it is so nice to have a break with no job and far less homework. But, I oddly miss my job and almost all the gross homework at UNCA. I think it’s more that I miss knowing what I’m doing. At work, I know what I’m doing. At school, I do most of the time. I never thought I’d miss UNCA’s gym, the quad, the library, and getting to eat or drink in class. I feel like students would be much happier if they could bring their coffee or tea to class at nine in the morning, just an idea. 

Running Without Stares: I run through the streets of Spain about every day here. Yes, there are a few other people who do the same, even Spaniards who do. But it’s like I decided to ride a big white elephant through the streets. There are a few reasons for this. One, most people here do not exercise  because they walk everywhere. Secondly, because it’s odd for people in general to run through the street. Thirdly, it’s extremely odd for a woman to run through the streets. Lastly, I’m not wearing cold gear (it’s 50-60 something degrees here) and I’m wearing my “weird Asheville shoes” (thanks Lauren James). So with all that combined it’s actually like I’m riding a big white elephant naked through the streets while singing some Michael Jackson song at the top of my lungs. 

 Veggies, Meat, Non-carb Items: Trust me, I love carbs, and I mean I love them. But eating a loaf and a half of bread a day can make ya feel a little blah. However, when that’s one of the main parts of the culture, you just take what you’re given. Yes, we do get some vegetables. But I would kill for some spinach for my salad and some sauteed veggies. Oh, and don’t forget some grilled chicken to put on that salad. The food here is good, but you don’t realize how much you appreciate the freedom to choose what you eat until you don’t really have that anymore.

The Things that I’ve come to Enjoy in Spain

Walking: I walk everywhere minus the exception of taking the metro to school and a bus for a weekend day trip. I love to walk. I enjoy just putting on some tunes and enjoying the sunshine as I walk to wherever I need to go. What I like even more is that they give you time to walk to places. Time is exactly what prevents me from doing it in Asheville, so it is nice not to have to worry about that here.

The Siesta Hour: They say it’s an hour, but really it’s three to four. Does everyone here actually go home and take a nap? From what I’ve seen, not really. They go home to eat, and yes, actually enjoy lunch and to relax a little bit. Do all the Americans nap every day during this hour? Seems to be quite a few do, well, at least I do. As I’ve gotten older I’ve always wished that my kindergarten nap time would be reinstated. Ta da! It has. So I do take advantage of it. It’s a nice way to reboot and take on the rest of the day. 

Taking Time to Eat: Everyone here makes sure to sit down and eat with the people they love. You will NOT see anyone walking down the street sipping a coffee or ripping apart a sandwich. That’s actually considered very rude. You go home or go to a restaurant and you sit down and eat with the people you love. I do a decent job of doing this at home, well, when I’m scarfing down some microwave chicken or something else disgusting during my five minutes in between finishing class and leaving for work. 

Carbs, Carbs, Carbs: Okay, so I realize that this contradicts what was previously stated, but like I said, I love carbs. I love the fact that this culture does not put pressure on you to choose the wheat bread for your sandwich when you know that a grilled cheese really belongs a white bread and white bread only. As much as I’d like 

to not have so much bread given to me, I’ve found the joy in it. 

....: I’m not sure what this last one is yet. Yes, this list of what I enjoy is far shorter than what I miss. I’m going to be honest here and lay out the honest truth for anyone reading this. There are mountain of things in this culture that make me want to scream at every pretty much everyone. The study abroad representatives give every student who is going away a chart. It goes like this: honeymoon phase, annoyance, slowly climbing back up, being okay, annoyance, acceptance. I fully intend on telling them to re-write this chart. I haven’t had a honeymoon phase, maybe like a honeymoon hour. I’ve accepted the things that I really don’t like, but that does not mean that they still don’t make me want to yell half the time. Thus far this experience has taught me how much I love my life, family, and country in general. I’ve told my mom and my dad that I didn’t want to have to be honest when everyone asks me how my trip was and says, “Oh, you loved it didn’t you?!” No, I don’t. I want to go home, and I’m sure that I will continue to count down the days until my tush is on the plane that’s taking me back to the Good Ol’ US of A. That being said, I am learning which is what I’m here to do. I’m learning about myself, about another culture, and hopefully will learn a lot more Spanish than I have been. I didn’t sign up for a grand vacation, I signed up to learn. I know that when everything is said and done I’ll be able to look back and say, “Wow, I really learned a lot, grew, and changed,” because you never really learn what you’re made of until you’re forced to find your strength in God to stand up on your own two feet and see the beauty in what He’s given you. 

My First Day With the Munchkins

So regardless of the country, continent, whatever, I adore children. They are always so accepting, teach you when you least expect it, and usually squeeze a giggle or two out of every person that they meet. The same goes for the little ones in Spain. I'm currently volunteering for an hour each Thursday as a teacher assistant in a kindergarten classroom at a local private school. It's a good thirty minute walk from my house, and the entire way my imagination was a whirlwind of possible scenarios. I arrived and of course had no idea where I was supposed to be. The sad part is the teachers didn't either. However, they eventually figured out where my cooperating teacher was. She was on the playground, and I was taken there to meet her quickly before her class returned to the classroom where we would begin the children's English lesson.

You would've thought a giraffe or a Disney princess or something walked onto the playground. There were about forty children on that playground and every one of them stopped all of their games and looked at me. They acted like they didn't know what to think. All of the sudden there was a swarm, and I mean a swarm, of five-year olds tugging on me and all at once saying, "¿Cómo te llamas?" Which is Spanish for, "What is your name?" So of course I answered by stating my name. A few of them giggled, ran off, and whispered to their friends with the upmost excitement. Some of the others smiled and proceeded to say their name and ask if I was in their class. I even found one little girl, who had the most precious smile, who was so excited to find out that we had the same name. The teacher finally gathered about twenty five of the little ones up so that we could begin to venture towards the classroom.

There may have been less children in the classroom than on the playground, but it seemed as though the swarm of sticky children got bigger when we arrived in the classroom. They sounded like buzzing bees with all their questions. One little boy, named Mateo, found a pirate hook and started tugging on me and trying to wrestle me down to the ground. Oh, I forgot to mention that this was the same little boy who yelled at me, "Do you know you're ugly?" before we left the playground. I laughed but one of the little girls was about to start a smack down when he said that and responded back with, "Be quiet! She's pretty!" Anyhoo, the teacher had all the little ones sit down on the magic circle (apparently they exist in every culture) and asked them if they had any questions. Of course they all stare at her like little Bambis in the headlights, so she asks them to guess where I'm from. They all said Spain...then Africa....then they went blank again. One little boy piped up and said, "America!" I said yes and they all oooed and ahhhed. Then I spoke all of fifteen English words, which were instructions on our activity, and then it was all Spanish.

When it came time to leave, the teacher asked them to sit down and ask any questions they had or make any comments. Mateo ratted out Jaime and said, "He likes her A LOT!" Then he snickered and poor Jaime's face turned beet red. Then another five-year old asked if I had a job in the U.S. I of course responded yes, yes I do. And he politely told me to quit it and come work there because I was the best and nicest teacher ever.


Every time I'm in the classroom, my desire to teach is reinforced that much more. All of the children were very patient with me when I didn't understand them, and tried to teach me words like I taught them. They really are the best language teachers that anyone can have. But what amazes me even more than their cuteness and patience is how kind they are. One of the little boys has a few disabilities though I don't specifically know what they are. He's mentally challenged and cannot walk so he crawls. When it was that little boy's turn to say his name to me he was unable to understand the teacher or hold his head up high enough to really say it audibly. So the little boy next to him whispered the question and helped him hold up his head. Although the other little boy still did not say his name, his friend answered for him. Later another one of the students gladly helped the boy sit up at the table and asked the teacher to help get him settled so they could all enjoy doing the activity together because they were friends. I stood there amazed. These kids are five-years old and already their capacity to care and lack of discrimination is far beyond that of most adults. I can't wait to get to know each and every little Kool-Aid stained face and see what lessons they have in store for me in the months to come.