Pathway to Mexico – Fourth Grade Part II

My discovery in fourth grade that I could help other people by learning Spanish may have been forgotten with time if another defining experience had not occurred that same year. Though the circumstances surrounding the event were tragic, it was that very tragedy (combined with the vision and action of my twin teachers) that lit a fire in my little ten-year-old heart that has yet to go out. From October 29th to November 3rd of 1998, Hurricane Mitch hit the Central American states of Honduras, Guatemala, and Nicaragua, killing thousands and leaving millions of people homeless in the wake of catastrophic flooding (click here to learn more). In response to this tragedy, however, a formative life event was suddenly placed on my life path: I became involved in my very first humanitarian project.

My two teachers came to us (their students) with the news of Hurricane Mitch and asked us if we were willing to do something to help the people of Honduras who had suffered the most from the hurricane. Our teachers (I assume) purposefully put us in charge of the project (or made us feel like we were) to give us a sense of investment; and, soon enough, our class of 30 ten-year-old kids had organized a school-wide clothes drive. From planning, to collecting clothes, to ordering the delivery truck and loading it up with donations in front of my elementary school, I felt like we were making a difference. I felt connected to the people of Honduras in some small way—and I liked that feeling! By putting us in charge of the project, our teachers not only taught us about the world, they also empowered us with the experience and confidence to do something about the problems we saw in it—even as ten-year-old elementary school students.

I look back now at the Hurricane Mitch clothes drive or the moment my classmate handed me the book of Spanish vocabulary and I can see little seeds being planted along my path of life. Those seeds had to be nourished by hundreds of other individuals, experiences, teachings, and 'unnoticed' defining moments to get me to where I am today, but I can look back at the clothes drive or the small and seemingly insignificant gesture of a fellow fourth-grader and know that those experiences are somehow connected to who I am and the path I have chosen to take. My life in Mexico is closer now than ever before and it both frightens and excites me. And, despite the fear, I am grateful that this is where my path has led me because I know that it is there where the seeds of service and Spanish will fully come into bloom.

Pathway to Mexico - Fourth Grade

Have you ever looked back on your life and realized that the moments and experiences you never considered to be important were, in fact, the very events that have come to define your present? The small and simple details of life are suddenly significant when you take the time to glance into your past. It is then that you can finally see how each moment and experience not only shaped who you are, but also the path upon which you are still walking. I cannot put a finger on the exact moment I looked back and realized how my path had led me to Mexico; what I can do, however, is remember the moments that created that path.

The life of a fourth grader who happens to have twin sisters as teachers can never be a dull one. Fourth grade was a year in which I published my own books, worked as a newspaper journalist, discovered how water balloons are like division, and filled my classroom with a giant bubble filled with paper mâché animals. Fourth grade was amazing! Knowing where I am now, however, something much more exciting happened to me in fourth grade: I met Manuela.

I don't really remember her name, but Manuela will suffice for the purposes of my story. In reality, the brief nature of Manuela's presence in my fourth grade class led me to almost forget this small experience that I now remember as a defining moment in my life. One day I had no idea of her existence, the next day she was our new classmate, having arrived recently from another country and knowing very little English. She did not stay the whole year and I never learned what happened to her, but while she was in our class I tried to befriend her.  And then it happened, that moment I can still see in my mind like it happened yesterday: a fellow classmate came to me with a book full of drawings accompanied by Spanish vocabulary and told me that I should have it because I was so close to Manuela. Maybe it could help me to help her.

I didn't know what to do with it. Me? Learn Spanish? I still remember looking at the first page with a drawing of a house and what seemed like hundreds of different objects and people and feeling a mixture of incredulity at the thought that a ten-year-old could learn Spanish by looking at drawings, and an inner happiness knowing that someone thought that I was in a position to help Manuela by learning her language. I remember trying to memorize the vocabulary and use it with Manuela, but she was gone before I put my new words to much use. However, while I quickly lost my meager supply of Spanish vocabulary, I never forgot Manuela and the idea that someone believed I had the ability to learn Spanish and use that knowledge to help someone else.