It's Halftime

Today marks the halfway point of my time here in Guatemala. I can remember that, before I left in January, I’d randomly lose myself in thinking about what it would feel like to be in the 5^th month of my 10-month grant period. Would I be lonely and empty of new ideas for the classroom, having already booked my plane ticket home for November? Or would I be content and energized, ready to make the most of the second half of my stay? Since today, June 9^th, is the day that I laboriously tried to imagine for so long, it seems perfectly appropriate to answer these questions from my 5-month-ago self. 

Recently, I’ve felt strong waves of something like homesickness, but it actually isn’t the feeling of missing home. Instead, I’ll self-diagnose it as friendsickness. Definition: The sentiment of missing those not with whom you’re merely acquainted but with whom you have a relationship of deep trust and strong mutual commitment. Two weeks ago, I made a 2-day trip to Florida for family reasons, and I won’t deny that as I walked through the Houston airport on my layover, I felt comforted by the excessive number of Starbucks cafés (I don’t even like their coffee that much) and the fact that I could understand ALL of the jokes I overheard between my fellow native-English speakers. But what comforted me most was a 5-minute phone call that I made to one of my very best friends in Pennsylvania. As I was waiting to overindulge myself in what would turn out to be sushi and the incredibly large American classic fudge brown/cake sundae, I realized I could do something I hadn’t been able to do for 4 and a half months: call a friend. The whole idea was wonderfully simple. I didn’t have to send an email or post on facebook what times I’d be available to skype, remind her of the time difference, and then apologize for not having internet for the two hours we were supposed to talk. All I had to do was find her name in my phone and press “call.” Oh, the beauty of it. Though I don’t remember the conversation in its entirety, I’m pretty sure we spoke about why I was in the States, what she should pack when she visits this June (2 weeks!), and how her new job was going. More than the words we exchanged, being able to get a hold of her with ease brought such happiness, which eventually turned to sadness as I realized that I’d be returning to the email-facebook-skype routine very soon.

After returning to Guate a few days later, I led a discussion in my conversation club about the proposed risks of joining facebook at an early age, specifically before the age of 18. In addition to resulting in physical changes in the brain that may lead to shorter attention spans, the scientist reporting in the article we read shares that the social risks may be just as dangerous. She explains that because social networks like our beloved facebook make friendships so accessible, actually being with friends in person can become obsolete. Certainly, this is the extreme of what can happen to FB users, and many of us maintain that we primarily use it to keep in touch with friends who are far away or who we don’t see as often as we’d like for whatever reason. Still, even for those of us who make this latter claim, I think the message of what, to me, is a scary extreme is important to keep in mind. Even though I didn’t ask my students directly, I think this conversation probably affected me more than it did them. [Side note: I’ve learned that teachers often get just as much, if not more, out of lessons with their students. This is a secret, though…the students can never know :)] As much as facebook softens the blow of being separated from close friends, it cannot and should not serve as a substitute for in-person opportunities. Por lo tanto, every second that I spend with Carolyn during her stay will be rich in love and gratitude. It’s a friendship that has taken years to mature and that I’ve grown to miss in its physical absence.

In terms of my pre-departure musings, however, I’m quick to answer the second question with a resounding YES, knowing that being content and excited about the future doesn’t come without heartache. I’m absolutely certain that when I’m back in the States, my heart will ache for the life I had in Xela despite the fact that I’ll be content in walking the path God has laid for me. That’ll be good, though; if I’m still missing Xela, that means I’ll be finding a way to come back.