Marci Soifer

All I really need to know, I learned in school this week...

-When making paper, stuffed fish with children and using a stapler to fasten things together, always bring more than one stapler and try really hard to keep the staples away from all hands.

-When watching Finding Nemo (again, at a computer without quotation marks) in a Peruvian school, do not try to translate yourself with piddly Spanish (which comes out as, where is Nemo? I need to find Nemo!...over and over and over, as I am lacking vocabulary to expand on what is really being said), try to find the function to switch the language right there on the main menu.

-When the children go to the pool on a Thursday, no one will attend school on Friday and the four people who do show up really just want to sing to, laugh with, and tickle you until you cannot breathe...a good time for all.

-When wearing a t-shirt that says, Michigan State Basketball, to work, assume that the teachers will assume that you want to teach all of the students in school how to play basketball...in Spanish (has not happened yet, but there are plans out there...stay tuned).

-When bored with a dull moment and oodles of kids hanging on your arms, ask them to tell you how many freckles you have on one arm. When they say, a million, tell them to try again. But, when their next guess is a million and two, make sure to congratulate them on guessing correctly. And then, when you ask how many freckles are on the other arm, and they answer a million, just say, OF COURSE.

-When completing a puzzle with kids, let them do whatever they think makes sense...and do not try to explain the importance of edges and corners in Spanish...because you end up saying things that are actually obscenities.

An educational week, as most in Peru are. Anyway, just wanted to bring you up to speed. Things are going well, and this week in particular was full of a ton of laughter. Angela is a reading whiz, Christopher has started to pick his nose regularly and then nearly explode (nervously) everytime something comes out on his fingers, Yoahhna has stopped opening her mouth much when she speaks which makes it difficult to understand her, Flor jumped rope with stilts on (which made me really nervous, but she did with grace), Wendy and Karina have made it a priority to get a little Plate, Plate, Dove in each day, and Jefferson got a new eraser this week (obviously, the biggest news).

However, I am saddened to learn that since the summer is ending here (and so is Carnaval and the stupid waterballons...thank goodness), my school is closing at the end of next week for three weeks. This means that my last week in Lima will not be spent at Deporte y Vida. I am not sure what I will do with that time...likely sample other placements, but after Thursday, it looks like I will not be going back to my class and my kids. It is sad, but I am already plotting ways to make the most out of the remaining days. My teacher and I have come up with a plan to do big art projects as part of the lessons next week. I am thinking English, books, and art, thanks to Aunt Penny.

As for today specifically, it is almost 3:30 pm on Friday and instead of playing soccer, I have literally just returned from Villa El Salvador. I went to work, finished around noon or 12:15, and when my group took our typical 35 minute drive home, I got out in the bustling Municipal square of Villa El Salvador. Here, a couple hundred elderly residents of Villa El Salvador (including many members of Los Martincitos) sat in rows of plastic chairs, underneath a covered tent-like rectangle. Standing at the front of the group, with a mic in hand, was Tony, the man who helps run Los Martincitos. And, before Tony, at the head of the tent, hung a thin trunked willow tree, with a random assortment of gifts and toys tied to the majority of branches.

This is the Peruvian tradition called, Yunza, and it is a festival that comes mostly from the Highlands (remember Ayacucho?). It usually takes place in the end of February, leading into the actual Carnaval, which does not even happen in Lima. The event consists of groups of people dancing around the tree in traditional dress, with streamers on their bodies and flour smeared on their faces. In mid-dance, they take swigs of liquor and silmuntaneously, chop the tree down.

When I got there, the flour had been smeared, streamers distributed, and people were in costume. Tony MC-ed the entire event, although a handful of groups of Villa El Salvador elderly (other than Martincitos) were present. I sat in back with a few other volunteers and observed, giving hugs and kisses to all of our friends from Martincitos hobbled by. The dresses, hats, embroidered cloaks and skirts, feathered hats, and ruffled shirts amazed me, and I soaked up the parade of ornaments as the costumed people danced by and circled the tree. Every group of elderly had their chance to dance in front, with a different song (which all sounded a lot like wind instruments and high pitched voices).

I stayed for about two hours, and did not see much drinking or tree chopping. Jackie, the nun from Brooklyn who runs Martincitos with Tony, assured us that such things would be happening. Being a little tired, hungry, and hot, once we felt like we had absorbed a good taste of the Peruvian tradition, we were off.

And now, what? Well, I am glad to have gotten through this week, since I finally went to the US Embassy and the Peruvian Immigracion offices and took care of the rediculous passport shananigans (yup...officially a female now...it is good to be back, among the ladies). This weekend...gladly staying local to catch up on sleep, spend time with new volunteers, continue my newly implemented plan to train for the Inca Trail, and prepare for a busy week of art projects and goodbyes with the second grade.

(I feel obligated to begin this blog entry with a formal appology. I am sorry. I do not know where the time went...and I hope that you do not think that I fell off the face of the earth. On the contrary, I am alive and well, and am literally sitting in an internet cafe hoping that you specifically are not on the border of giving up on me and my slow paced blog updates. They will stream again...I promise. That being said, let us move on.)

(Tiyul is not a Spanish word. It is Hebrew, and means trip.)

Do you like rollercoasters? I do. However, rollercoasters are one of my acquired tastes. Years ago, you could not have convinced me to strap into one of those speedy carts, await the clicking uphill, and, of course, the impending feeling of a near death descention. But, now, I am into it. I am seasoned in the most ¨dangerous¨ amuesement park practices.

Well, this weekend, I did another one of those things that my former self probably would not have attempted in a million years. I have just returned from a four day adventure in the Peruvian rainforrest. And for those of you who know me well, as most of you do, you would have been amazed. It was quite the experience...but certainly one I had to check off my, Things I did when I lived in South America, list.

I left my house at 8 am on Thursday with two other volunteers and plane tickets in hand, at the same time we normally head off to work. However, with our small backpacks, we jumped in a cab to the airport. We were not Villa El Salvador bound...but, on our way to the rainforrest (or as we called it, the jungle). Ah, the Lima airport...my favorite place, since I spent that entire night spread across the food court en route to Ayacucho in December. Anyway, we arrived to the airport, checked in for our LAN Peru flight, paid our airport tax (necessary for every, single flight), and waited patiently at our gate. We were headed for Puerto Maldonado, a small city in the Southern corner of Peru, close to the Brazilian and Bolivian borders and right smack in...you guessed it...the Amazon.

The plane was cold (I mean, was pumped with a foreign type of cold air...I think that in the States we call it, ¨air conditioning¨), packed with gringos (white, foreigners, tourists), and had a breif stopover in Cusco. The deep green Andes, fluffy clouds, and red clay roads and structures visible from my porthole window offered a taste of how beautiful this city is, and made me really excited for my impending trip to Machu Picchu and hike on the Inca Trail (in a few weeks, after volunteering). From there, a couple pieces of LAN Peru sponsored banana bread and a weird half-hour long bloopers show later, and we were in Puerto Maldonado. Deplaning in this city is kind of like walking into a sauna, except with it is in public and with all of your clothes on. The airport is a small, open air structure, with a large corrugated blue roof, in the midst of miles of muddy rivers flowing and acres of lush greenery.

We were picked up by our rainforrest tour group in a tan bus with a straw roof, resembling a hut (oh, Peru), and drove through the small town of tiny, half built structures and people sitting outside to let the time pass with a breeze. After an hour, passing into uncharted, more remote terrain, and eventually having to brake for a capybara (the largest rodent in the world...size of a small pig, and brown and hairy...think giant ginuea pig), we finally arrived at a tiny boat port. Myself, the other two volunteers, one Dutch family, an English couple, two guides, and a few porters and staff members boarded this long, narrow, wooden, roofed motor boat carefully (one at a time), so as to not disturb the equilibrium. Once all the people were seated and life jacketed, off we set on the Tambopata River, and the group recieved our lunch. The menu served a large, plastic feeling leaf wrapping up a heaping serving of fried rice (vegetarian friendly, thank goodness), and the beauty of it was that once we finished the rice, we were supposed to toss the actual biodegradable leaf into the water. We decided to write mesages on our leaves prior to tossing them, just in case they were ever found, and found by an English speaker (you know, before they biodegraded). I wrote, Travel as much as your money will allow, and gently let go into the quickly rippling, bright brown water, watching it float on the surface, up and down, following the brown waves imposed by our motor.

An hour later on the boat, we arrived at a wooden staircase sticking up from the muddy water. This, we are told, is the entrance to our 10 minute walk to the lodge. Onward, we continued. As we hiked into the forrest and over the muddy path (thanks to rainy season), I wondered if I had ever been in place more remote (almost 2 and a half hours outside of any civilization, and only accessible by boat). This was not even close to what I consider remote in the Berkshires, or camp for that matter. At the end of that thought, I looked up to find a large, wooden, open air structure before me. This was the lodge. From the path, I passed a covered porch with three different wooden racks of rubber boot pairs, up a few stairs to a small area with a netted off section with souvenirs (ah, the gift shop in the jungle) and a few couches for sitting. I sat. And, the group sat too, already finding that the smell of the deet spray and sunscreen we had applied en route was being carried by sweat in drops down our bodies. The lodge manager came to speak to us, to explain that we are only to use the supplied biodegradable soap and shampoo in the bathrooms, there is only cold water, the eletricity in the lodge is only in the dining room (except for a small lantern in your room) and would only work from 5 pm to 9 pm daily, the mosquito nets over each bed should be used for evening safety (being in a malaria area and all), and if we had any food, we should put it in the small locked safe in our rooms, as the rooms are open air with only three walls (open to the forrest), so animals could get in if they were so inclined to chase our food.

From this orientation, my two travel companions and I headed off to our rooms (we had two). As we continued on, I saw a man walking on the path wearing a Michigan State Spartans t-shirt. Obviously, I had to talk to him...and he was pretty funny. Turns out, this man, who is originally from Grand Rapids, MI, went to State years ago, lives in LA now, and is traveling around Peru, had lots to say to me about the random little city of East Lansing in the middle of the Amazon. It was hysterical...and I guess that you can run into people with connections that anywhere. He was leaving the next day, but it was one of those interactions when I though...of course. He even made a face at me when he heard that I went to Michigan in the Peruvian rainforrest...that too is pretty universal for State fans, I guess.

We walked through the ¨lobby¨, and walking on the uncovered planked bridges connecting structures, we found our rooms. Walled with wood, bamboo, and doors made of cloth on string, our room was a pretty large space, with two beds and matching mosquito nets and a splendid hammock. Our bathroom was a private part of the room, featuring a legitimate toilet (I was shocked) (I mean, it was the jungle, but it even flushed...gently I would say), a legitimate sink (again, shocked), a mirror hanging on the bamboo wall, and a small shower stall with one large spout overhead, a surrounding thick plastic covering, and a little dispenser of a pleasantly scented organic shampoo.

I decided to introduce myself to the hammock immediately, and while I paged through my book and swung back and forth for a while, I glanced into the forrest and listened closely to the sounds. Insects, monkeys, birds...lush greenery...all immediately to my left. I had arrived, really.

Before dinner, we listened to our tour guide give us a lecture on eco-tourism and the advantages of this lodge and tour group. Basically, this group has a partnership with the river people who live in this community and employ them to use the land and to get some labor. It brings them money, so they do not mind, and it gives them the ability to control the way the company works on their land. The company only has a ten year contract for this lodge, and 4 years remaining...so, if it does not work out for the local community, the company will have to make changes. Everyone is particularly interested in a maccaw conservation project and research system centered right there at the lodge. I listened to this talk and keep thinking, what was it like to build this place? This is an complex big enough to house 100 guests, a staff of 40, and about 20 guides at any given time. There is fresh food, tons of space and wood being used, candles everywhere in the dark, boiled water used for drinking and eating (cleaned water) everywhere, and much, much more. This is an amazing system.

We were introduced to the dining room next, which is a large rectangular covered space, with enormous wooden tables and thick, wooden chairs, lit by candles, lanterns, and wide wooden candelabras hanging from the ceiling (lowered with rope to replace and light the candles). Yes, there was a bar, and smaller tables for cocktails, and checkers, chess, and cards. The food was set up in a buffet on one end of the dining room, and we sat with our tour guide and the other people in our group, the English couple on their way to Carnaval in Brazil (who did not really know how rustic rustic was until they arrived, I gathered). It was at this dinner that we learned that in the jungle, in order to get the most out of days and to see the optimal number of animals during their most active times, we must get up at 4 o clock in the morning. So, after completing our dinner at 8, we headed off to our rooms to read inside the nets and knot off (which was pretty easy, considering it was pitch black by then). Besides, we had to prepare ourselves for a full day...beginning with another meal in the middle of the night.

Aldo, our trusty guide, knocked on the post near our door (you cannot knock on the door...it is fabric) at 4:10, to let us know that it was time to get up and he would see us at breakfast in twenty minutes. Well, I am not much of a morning person, and I was listening to the man who was snoring through the night somewhere in our block of bamboo rooms, but I grinned and beared it and took my plate of eggs at the ripe hour of 4:35 am. Followed my early morning breakfast engorging, I joined my group and settled into my hand-picked pair of rubber boots (up to my knees) to head out on the path we had entered through to the stairs and boat. The river was almost kissed by sunlight at 5 am, and I could make a rose strip of sky peering through the holes between greenery on the river bank.

We took another boat ride for approximately a half an hour, which ended at another boat port comprised of muddy, wooden stairs. Ascending these stairs led to another short hike, in which we were told to try to trudge through the rainy season, muddy path as quietly as possible, in the interest of spotting animals. After about twenty minutes, Aldo pointed directly up and my eyes met my first wild monkeys. Squirrel monkeys...they were small, and many in number. They jumped quickly from branch to branch and kept to themselves at a high placement...and this is where I learned that there is a trend to the jungle animal sightings...they are far away, and while I may have seen them, you are going to have to take my word for it, because pictures are virtually impossible.

We arrived at a lake and boarded a catamaran, across two large boats. By this time, the sun had officially risen enought to cast a stricking reflection in the water and over the trees. Slowly, our guide paddled around this lake for two hours, giving us moments of instruction of what animals to look for and handing over his binoculars for us to view the wildlife ourselves. We were told to watch for river otters, which we did not see, but we did see oodles of maccaws and tucans with brightly colored feathers, black skimmers (birds), a Jesus bird, a series of dusty titi monkeys, and as I excitedly type, a real cayman...yes, an alligator. It looks the same way it did when you watched Captain Hook squirm in ¨Peter Pan¨...green, coarse, dark, deadly eyes...the works. Our lake excursion was topped of by our guide presenting a few fishing rods and a bag of raw meat. This was for us to spend time fishing for pirana, which were apparently swimming in the masses right below our boat. Sure enough, we caught a few of these snapping, deadly fish, and held them in our hands to observe. We threw them back...I mean...we eat them on the spot. Just kidding...we let them go, after I snapped a few photos...and added befriended wild pirana to my lists of things I did while living in South America.

When we turned around and traced our mud prints back to the boat in the river, we passed an enormous termite nest (and my two travel companions, with our guides nudging, ate termites...which apparently have a lot of nutrients...and I hid behind the excuse that I did not know if they were kosher), a garlic tree, cocoa tree, Brazil nut tree, banana tree, and balsa wood tree. We boated back to the lodge, and en route, swung by the local clay lick, which is a spot where maccaws hang out in masses. Maccaws eat this paticular type of natural clay, which happens to be very accessible from this spot. However, while we did not see any maccaws on this particular morning, we did spot a family of four more capybaras (the beastly rodents) on the river bank. We even got close to them. I have some good photos of these creatures...interesting. And, I learned that they are herbivores as well...me and them...vegetarians.

Upon arrival at the lodge, we relaxed, re-applied deet, basked in our sweat soaked long sleeves in hammocks, and waited for lunch. The afternoon consisted of another boat ride and climbing up new stairs rising from the river for a trip to the local shaman. Now, I am as much into natural medicine as the next woman who has visited an herbalist a few times, but this was amazing. The garden guide, Arturo, the assistant to the Shaman, greeted us and explained that we were about to tour what is considered a natural botanical garden. He and the Shaman create medicinal cures for the river people, and regular citizens who come to visit (ready to pack your bags?), and mostly compose these treatments out of plant extract, the crushed semblance of the plant, and distill the mixture in a brandy or vodka for a few days.

He walked us from plant to plant, which were somewhat organized around a few small shacks on a large expanse of forrested land, explaining that we were viewing natural anesthetics, asprin, arthritis medicine, menstration regulation treatments, and a cancer treatment. We also encountered a plant called, Para Para, which is actually a natural version of Viagra. That is right...impotence medicine in the rainforrest. I even got a branch from this plant and found that no matter how many times I crinkled any leaf, it was restore itself in a flash. Impressive. Sorry, I left it all there. Lastly, we were introduced to the most prized and valuable plant to this Shaman and the community...the Ayahuasca. This plant is a natural hallucinogenic and has been known to completely turn around bad health with only one usage and a lot of believing. At this point, I decided to take a handful of leaves from this plant and munch away...I wanted to see what would happen.

Okay, I am kidding. Just wanted to make sure that you were still reading.

Right, so the tour ended with that plant, which just looked like a large, leafy tree. And, we headed back to the lodge for dinner and some resting. I changed out of my long sleeved shirt, which had now collected something of a white, clumpy paste of Deet, sunscreen, and sweat on the sleeves from wiping my dripping face so many times. Yummy. I showered for the second time in the Rainforrest, and this time, unlike the night before, I did not squeal upon entry into the icy water...I welcomed it. We went to dinner on schedule at 7 pm, learned that we would once again head to the clay lick for maccaw sightings at the ripe hour of 5 am the next morning, and laughed along with the English couple from our group point out all kinds of differences in our languages (American English and English English). Have you ever heard the expression, ¨donkeys ago...¨? I have not, but it means a while ago. I might just have to use that. I mean, maybe everyone should. We topped off the night playing cards under one of our three mosquito nets (thanks to cards courtesy of Mark Lippett), until one of the other women with me fell asleep at 8:30 and the other volunteer and myself discovered that you really cannot play Bullshit with two people (if one person does not have the correct cards and lies, the only other person holding cards can immediately tell and callt he Bullshit). We still played for about another hour, hysterically.

Day 2. Ah, the precious 4:30 am. Silly howlers monkeys had actually woken me up around 4 am anyway (they sound kind of like Willy Wonka laughing in the tunnel of that wretchedly scary film that you have all seen and should get this referrence). We passed on breakfast this time, because we planned to walk out the clay lick, bird watch, and return for the normal 7:30 am serving. Although there was some distant thunder, I suited up with boots, deet, and rain coat in hand (just in case). Pitch black...we headed out. The path was accessible from behind the lodge, and was the most muddy path we had yet encountered. Picture this, no stretch less than 3 feet of dry land and puddles that were basically up to your calf muscles. I slipped and slid and really wondered what the mud would feel like when I inevitably fell down. I did not, but my flashlight came close a few times. With daylight seeping through the thick forrest, subtly slowing off a thick fog, I eventually put the flashlight in my pocket right in time to feel a sprinkling of rain on my head.

We were only a few feet from the clay lick at this point, and had been walking for nearly 20 minutes. So, we put on our jackets and kept on. Just like Forrest in Vietnam in ¨Forrest Gump¨, we had all kinds of rain in the 10 minutes left to the clay lick...thin rain from the side, big, old fat rain, and rain that seemed to come up instead of down.

The clay lick had a nice, wooden, small, straw covered hut with small holes for bird watching, which was where we took cover. Now, the maccaws would not be visible because like us, they are not so interested in wetness. Thinking that the rain had to stop eventually, we waited it out for a short while. When this did not work out so well and the Forrest rain (not to make a pun) kept up, we made the decision to head back.

This was actually the exact moment that I though, yes, right...RAINforrest. I walked with my head down and hands out, so as to catch myself between grabbing onto tree branches on the path between sliding along in the saturated mud. In the particularly deep puddles, I had to summon literally every muscle in my body, in the interest of freeing myself from the deep mud that attempted to swallow my rubber covered feet. The walk was liberating, a little scary, and much shorter on the way back, since we were moving as quickly as possible in the monsoon. Too bad for me that I am a slow person, and while I may be good at a few things, charging through slippery, encompassing, rainforrest mud is not really one of them.

Proud that I had not fallen at all by the time we reached the lodge, I took shelter in our room and chuckled as I peeled off soaked clothing and emptied out my leeky rubber boots. Within moments of our return, the rain ceased and sun appeared, of course. Breakfast was under the sun, and after my first nap at the hour of 8 am, we headed off to the rainforrest canopy tower. This is a tower within a 40 minute walk from the lodge that offers a perspective of the river and forrest from up, above the canopy created by the trees. We climbed over 200 stairs on what looked like a massive section of green scaffolding, complete with slim, wooden steps. Reaching the top, we stood in awe and took out the cameras. For a few moments, I stoof still and watched from all directions as dusty titi monkeys jumped from branch to branch, the tops of massive Brazil nut trees showed off their precious fruits, maccaws flew in their infamous pairs, the river flowed, the walking palm trees (which move in the forrest based on sunlight over time using antenna) allowed their antennas to sway in the wind, and shadows of the Peruvian Andes marked the skyline...in the far, far distance. It was majestic.

From here, in the interest of seizing a sunny moment, we choose to return to the clay lick for round three. Another short hike in my newly selected, hopefully leek proof boots, and we returned. This time, we sat down and watched the nearby trees and clay formation before the carved windowed section of the tarp walls of the hut. Maccaw pair after pair, we saw red and green maccaws, scarlet maccaws, to name a few. Tons of birds, and we sat quietly, watching their small movements, steady perches, and soaring arrivals/departures.

And then...guess what? Thunder. Rain. Dejavu. I do not really need to go into what happened next, because if you scroll up, you can basically read what happened. It was exactly the same as the early morning venture, but you know, it was later in the day, and we did actually get to see some of the birds. Fabulous. Oh, silly RAINforrest.

The afternoon was a little bit unfortunate of this day, for it really just rained. We did not leave the lodge, in the interest of our own safety, and I really just basked in my icy shower, read a lot of my book from inside my mosquito netting, and had a few more meals. Dissapointing, yes.

The next day was departure day, which was a 7 am wake up (ah yes, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up to daylight...can you tell that I am not a morning person), 7:30 breakfast, and packing up all of the clothing that had gotten wet and obviously not dried in 150% humidity over the past few days. We encountered a spider while packing that was about the size of your hand with extended fingers, gray, and complete with short hairs...yup, it was a poisonous critter. But, he seemed to be just as scared of us as we were with him, since he really ran fast when we fussed about discovering him, the largest living spider I have ever seen in my life.

Sadly, we said goodbye to Aldo and the rainforrest sounds, sights, and sounds, and began our journey back to Lima, taking prety much every form of transportation possible. We left the lodge at 9:45 am, took the boat back, the bus ride, and boarded our plane to Lima, via Cusco...just as we had done in the reverse a few days prior. I reached the house in our Lima suburb at about 4:45 pm, and was greeted by another group of new volunteers. In our absense, 9 new people had moved into the house to begin their adventure here, in Lima and Villa El Salvador. We had returned from the rainforrest, and life in Lima would continue. It was a nice homecoming to new eager faces, mixed with the familiar ears that perked to hear of our rainforrest tales.

In other news, I returned to work. Last Wednesday, the before I left, I brought in more hommade playdough for the kids, along with signs of all colors in English in bubble letters. These signs were to then be filled in with the playdough and used in singing the colors. It was a hit. Granted, I used a bit more water than I should have and especially the blue dough was a bit sticky (and Christopher, my student who seems to find everything an urgent matter, literally almost cried when he could not recognize his hands and found that the school had run out of their supply of water for the day, and then laughed when I had to think quickly and put it on my face). Bottom line-we had a fantastic time, and all of the kids in class know the colors in English. Sure, I returned today to find that I am now known as Señorita Plastilina, but, who cares...if they know the colors, I will take any name they want. I also found a group of older boys who seem to think that I am visiting Deporte y Vida from the United States and therefore, must be a millionare who should purchase gifts and food for them. I had to break the news that I am not doing any such thing, and they should just calm down. They proceeded to hit and call Angela names, my little friend who was sitting nearby. This was my first run in with truly disciplinary behavior in Spanish...and I cannot say it went well...but, they got my message eventually. Bullies are universal.

But, the kids were excited to see me, and I was excited to return to them. They even sang the color song when I entered class, without my ques or help...alone. Smart kids. Even Yohanna, and Angela. I got so excited that I tried to move on to a lesson on numbers in English...using my jungle stories and a barrel full of monkeys (you know that game) to help me. I knew that we were in trouble when they were shouting, ¨OOOOOO-NNEY¨ when I asked how to say, uno in English. But, we will work on that. Angela is improving her reading, or should I say, sounding out...which is great. And, Christopher is still a spaz. Tomorrow, I will assist the kids in making fish out of paper and markers, stuffing them with leftover scraps, and hanging them around the room. The teacher is really working to encorporate my creativity into the lessons now...it is wonderful. I really feel like I am team teaching now, or at least beginning. And, we are even working on doing math with the monkeys inside the Barrel of Monkeys that my mom sent, and I gave as a gift to the center. As always, more to come.

Alright...so that is the full and complete story. Sorry you had to wait on that one...but, I hope it was worth the read. As always, responses are welcome. Take care.