Fare thee well, until we meet again

During our last English class, we were joined by Ron and Christa, volunteers from the 4 Walls Project. It seems every night we had visitors who wanted to see what it was about and sometimes came back. 

I'd come too.

I haven't exactly put my finger on it, but Kellan and Yacarely are doing something very right.

It's not just learning. It's FUN. It sounds like a commercial but whatever. The students — between age 17 and late sixties — come, read presentations to us for stamps of approval for that lesson, learn some conjugation and tenses and then for the next hour or so it's all interaction all the time.

There's  no hiding under the desks like when I took Spanish in high school. We play "hot seat," where a teammate sits in front of the white board and has to guess the person or place written behind them with clues. Trinidad jumps up to be a hot seater and Henry is already half out of his chair. He's got to wait two more rounds before he makes it to the front of the class to get his turn.

Everyone wants to go.

They want to sing even if their voice stinks; they want to participate and soon the class is not a class it's a little mini competition and party.

If ever Geneseo gets a strange new mandate and orders me off campus and into the English classroom, I'd have a grand old time.

Our last class, I wanted to show the students my images I took for the possible cover slot of the Scene. Ten hours later, I forget my computer at my host mom's house. Kellan bikes off to get it and while we think they are all waiting for his return, they are actually doing a stealth hit job on us: organizing a farewell party.

Kellan arrives with the computer at the same time Ileana and Yeremileth arrive with a bag of Eskimo Neopolitan, bowls and spoons.

"Thank you to all of you from Geneseo," she said, who have come to help us.

Grouped in a circle in the small office, Adam says it's been very very fun to teach and he loves El Sauce, and Meredith says it's been a life-changing experience.

Standing in the middle of Nicaragua with members of the community thanking us and sharing a celebration, I think all of us have been changed in ways that will reveal themselves over the next days, weeks, years.

We'd like to return and Trinidad, Wilfredo say they will be waiting for us.

They hug us and we trade e-mails with Manuel, Henry and those who have electronic e-mail, and just sort of stare out into the darkness of El Sauce's main street as we hug them and they turn to wave and walk off in the night.

The seats are silent with cheers and protestations over missed pronunciations.

Class is over and no one wanted to see it end.

The last thing Ileana says to me: "Next time you come, Kristina, you stay at my house."