Costa Rican Memoir #1

MapadeCostaRica
Originally uploaded by Randuwa.

My life has taken me to amazing places. Beautiful places full of wonderful and generous experiences. One of the early examples of such gracious adventures was my year in Costa Rica. I was hired directly out of college to teach in a private high school there in 1984. I taught 3 sections of English and 3 sections of geography to students from 9th to 11th grade (11th graders are seniors in Costa Rica). The school was Colegio Métodista (Methodist School); although, by the time I arrived, it was no longer under the auspices of the Methodist Church (USA or indigenous--And we only pretended otherwise when donors paid us visits.) The head mistress was an imposing and yet approachable woman of African ancestry. She hired me over the phone during our first conversation. An Episcopalian by denominational affiliation, she and I maintained a formal relationship on a staff of many. I found her at times imposing, accommodating, even disingenuous, but thankfully distant. It was a great lesson for a teacher. Be popular, and you are left alone!

So, fresh out of college, this was my first teaching position. I was ignorant, illiterate in Spanish, innocent, and enthusiastic -- in short, I was a GREAT teacher! Many experiences from that year stand out, and in time, I will endeavor to share some of them with you: i.e. the title of this post representing only “#1” in this strain of blogging. (And, in general, I am thinking that I will divide my posts between reflections on the past and the present.... rather than some daily diary.)

Let this be a reflection on the past. My year spent in Costa Rica was over 20 years ago. Yet, it holds a very vivid place in my memory. It was basically, my 23rd year; a time of idealism; a time of discovery -- a time of trust in the gift of life itself (something I have always tried to remember). The possibilities of life bloomed everywhere and every day brought some new blossom of truth to my heart and mind. I know, these metaphors are as tangled and thick as a Central American jungle. So be it! This is essentially how I felt about life then, and it's not to far from how I see it now.

When my plane landed at the airport near Alejuela, I looked down on a world so different from my own -- a culture unlike mine. I looked at this world with excitement and determination. And I was not disappointed. The essential lesson that this teacher learned in my first year as such was really this: We are all more alike than most of us probably realize. And our differences are only opportunities for growth that we have yet to grow into.