A part of me loves it here. I am glad that I am getting to experience something totally new and I know that the second I get back to the States I am going to want to come right back her and see my kids again. But another part of me would be totally fine if they were to send me home tomorrow. I don't want to quit, but if I was told to go home, I would.
It has just been a rough couple of weeks in regards to teaching. Everything is so disorganized, and no one seems to know how to help us fix it. Some of the older kids complained to their parents that they weren't getting tickets like the younger kids were, so we got yelled at and were told that we needed to change the entire way we were teaching the older kids.
It is better now that we have settled into the new routine and gotten used to things, but for a while it was 100% stress 100% of the time.
I sometimes wonder if I am even doing anything worthwhile. Half the time the kids refuse to speak English and just run around and fight while screaming Spanish. I try to get control of them, but when you have eight kids staging a mutiny against one teacher, there isn't always a whole lot I can do. But then one of the kids will say or do something sweet and I am reminded of the reason I wanted to do this thing in the first place.
Granted, I got called crazy, bad and mean about twenty times before this, but hey, you take what you can get with these kids.
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