WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS.

Costa Rica has two seasons: dry season and rainy season.

People have warned us about the torrential downpours that start right before school lets out and lasts for a few hours. It wasn’t until about the end of April that we got to experience these waters on our own. Up until then, the 70 degree Fahrenheit weather was the same every single day. When we woke up around 5:30 am, it would already be light outside, the sun would be out (and stay out) all day long until the sun set around 6:00, and Santa Ana would have a nice evening breeze in time to cool down the apartment for us to go to bed.

Then, the rain hit.

We were getting near to the end of the school day and the dark clouds swallowed up the sky. It poured. There was thunder and lightning in the mix which I appreciated, but it wasn’t quite as enjoyable when we had to step out from under the roof to walk the 15 minutes to our bus stop. By the time we made it to the bus stop, we were just walking straight through puddles because it was impossible to become any more wet than we already were. Brett’s jeans had soaked the whole way up to his thighs and my sundress and sandals didn’t stand a chance against the shower.

We waited at the bus stop for twice as long as we normally did that day. When a bus would come, it would be so full of people that it didn’t even bother to slow down unless someone needed off. When we finally caught a ride, our drowned-rat selves got on to find perfectly dry human beings staring at us. How they survived the rain was beyond me. I sat down in one of the only seats open, trying now to get my neighbor all wet, and Brett stood beside me. I watched the water drain out of his backpack onto the floor.

Now a days, we know to bring our rain coats and tiny, little, rusty, broken, red umbrella for us to both squeeze under because it’s guaranteed to rain 9 times out of 10. We’ve seen water flooding across the road and down the sidewalks. One day, we had just made it to our bus stop and were waiting for the bus when I tilted my head back and lost my sunglasses to the raging river in the ditch behind us. When it rains here, you either run for cover or just continue walking because you know you’re doomed.

                                   

DAY 1 AT THE WASHINGTON SCHOOL…WELL, KINDA.

The alarm went off at 5:30am and we jumped out of bed. I put on the dress I had picked out for my first day of school, teacher edition, and Brett put on a pot of coffee. We walked 10 minutes down the road to our bus stop and waited for the bus that would take the route we had practiced the day before. Our nerves were a little shaky, anticipating what our students would be like and how we would do interacting with them. All we could do was wait and find out.

We made it there around 7:30am which was perfect because class was to start at 8:00 and they told everyone to be sure they weren’t late for the first day of school. Just like the day of our first teacher meeting two days before, we were the only ones there and we waited patiently outside of the gate.

Five minutes until 8:00 and we were still the only two people in sight. Brett called the office and Don Alex answered the phone. Within a few minutes, he came down to the gate, let us in, and said that the first day of school was actually changed to be the following day.

What?

Turns out, they told the returning students that Thursday the 14^th would be the first day and the new students that Wednesday the 13^th would be the first day. Since there weren’t as many new students, they called the new parents to let them know of the change THE NIGHT BEFORE. Danielle was in charge of letting the teachers know about the switch (since we were told just two days before  at the teacher’s meeting that Wednesday would be the first day), but she wasn’t even informed until 10:00 pm on the 12^th. She sent out emails to everyone but the internet at our apartment wasn’t working and we had no way of knowing. Gah.

Don Alex told us that we coud come on in and read through the teacher’s handbook in the office. We did just that because we had nothing else to do and we already made the 50 minute journey there to the school.

                                     

After looking at the handbook for 10 minutes, we decided to go try to organize our homerooms. There were old papers all through the desks and random books everywhere. Some text books had teachers’ editions, some did not. We didn’t know what to do but we did the best we could to feel as prepared as possible for the real first day of our new job.

The next day, we woke up at 5:30am and we got out of bed. I put on the dress I had picked out for my second day of school, teacher edition, and Brett put on a pot of coffee. We walked 10 minutes down the road to our bus stop and waited for the bus that would take the route we had practiced, yet again, the day before. Our nerves were not shaky, anymore, but we still anticipated what our students would be like and how we would do interacting with them.

The first whole week of class was just playing games and getting to know everyone. Each day, we would follow the school schedule which was as follows: two 50 minute periods, a 20 minute “coffee” break (with no coffee), two more 50 minute periods, a 40 minute lunch break, and three more 50 minute periods. Things went great with the kids but each day the teachers were all given a different schedule. We thought that it was just because it was the first week back and they were trying to get things organized. We were wrong.

Monday January 18^th was the beginning of actual classes. Turns out, they thought Brett’s name was “Bread” and they wrote “Mr.Bread” on the top of his attendance sheet. I was not the 4^th grade homeroom teacher, Brett was not the 5^th grade homeroom teacher, and our class schedules were different every day for two weeks. One day I would have 4^th grade science, the next I would have 10^th grade American History. It was IMPOSSIBLE to plan the lesson ahead of time because we didn’t even know what classes we would have the next day. Oh yeah, I am now the third grade homeroom teacher and Brett is the 7^th/8^th grade homeroom teacher.

The students have to bring in their own toilet paper. A few weeks ago, we ran out of the TP supply and we were given a tissue box to use instead. When the tissue box was handed to me, I was told to put my name on it, hide it so that only my class knew where it was, and not to let the high schoolers take it for their own.

A few months ago, Washington School took on a new 12th grade student and promised that we could give him all of the classes he needed to finish school. The thing is, the school only goes through 11th grade and the student was to take AP classes. Brett and a three other teachers were told that they were going to lose all of their prep periods and start teaching the new student instead. When Brett asked when he was expected to do his prep, he was told that he can do it at home after school. Brett continued to explain that he wasn't allowed to teach AP classes, but they didn't really seem to care. I could go on, and on, and on, and on and on and on and on but I won’t over the internet... Ask me about the disorganization when I see you hahahaha. No really, please ask. It use to be frustrating but now it's amusing. 

On a good note, the pay is exactly what they promised and we are always paid when we expect to be paid. The kids are fun and uncooperative at the same time so every day is an interesting one. We’ve made some good friends with our fellow teachers and we are able to make extra money by tutoring for an extra hour right after school almost every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. I have to say, we are starting to get a little sad knowing that it is coming to an end, already. It’s been a rollercoaster but we were the ones who wanted to get on the ride!

Looking back, I’m so glad that we did.