Monday Notes: 3 Things I’ve Had to Learn/Unlearn to Follow My Intuition

~ kegarland ~ 12 Comments

I almost didn’t write this because I’ve discussed intuition many times before. But I decided to share anyway because this time feels different. This time, it wasn’t just practice and platitudes. It felt like a major exam after years of studying. Using my intuition to quit my job required everything I’ve suggested over the past ten years.

The first thing I had to do was listen to my body. Years ago, I was a school instructional coach at an elementary school. Every time I walked through the door, my stomach twisted and turned. I thought I would vomit. Instead of listening to my body, I awoke each day, swallowed the feeling, and worked for eight hours. After quitting, someone invited me back to lead professional development. The day I returned, I was nauseous. From that point on, I vowed to never ignore how my body felt.

Well, the job in Costa Rica was similar. I wasn’t sick, but my entire body vibrated and sent me a very loud signal that I can only describe as shouting, “Get Out!” At first, I thought it was because I was dysregulated from being in survival mode. But when I returned the next day, it was the same. I knew I couldn’t continue working there.

The second thing I had to do was ignore years of conditioning. Conditioning comes in many forms. This time it was one of my friends saying, “Hang in there!” after I had described the shenanigans.

“We’re too old to be following these GenX rules we were taught,” is what I told her.

“Which one? There are so many,” she replied.

“‘Hang in there’. I’m not going to.”

I know hang in there sounds like a simple phrase, and sometimes, it can be encouraging. I mean, you can’t go around quitting everything after 14 days. If you have a major goal you wanna manifest, hang in there! If you feel a little downtrodden, hang in there! If you moved to a new country and feel swindled and scammed? Reassess and let go!

Ignoring years of conditioning requires re-conditioning oneself with new rules. I’ve learned to speak kindly to myself when a pivot is required. I’ve written before about how my grandmother would ask me if I was stupid every time I did something nonsensical. Even though I knew I wasn’t, I’d started stating something similar whenever I got in a bind: I must be dumb or something. Well, not anymore. Those caregiver voices and the previous two generations’ mentalities have exited my system.

To quit my job, I had to not only acknowledge my feelings as valid, but to also reject the notion that I just needed to hang in there. I didn’t have to remain in la casa cucaracha or at a dysfunctional school with bullies for leaders. Aaand I wasn’t stupid for deciding to move. I’m here for a reason.

The last thing I had to do was not subscribe to society’s judgments about my decision. This realization manifested as a conversation.

Once I decided to quit, I told a few people at the school. Each co-worker admitted they, too, wanted to leave. One person had been there six months because they didn’t want to “fail.” This is a valid point. A lot of times, we are taught that giving up (e.g., not hanging in there) means you’re a wishy-washy human being and a failure. I told this person two things:

#1: There is no such thing as “failure.” It’s a made-up concept. It is perfectly okay to make a new decision.

#2: I don’t worry about the opinions of people who are sitting on their couch. This isn’t specific shade to people sitting on the couch; it’s what I think about most opinions. For example, I don’t take writing advice from people who don’t write. I don’t take marital advice from never married folks or those who haven’t been in some type of long-term, committed relationship. So, there is no way I would entertain the opinion of someone who has not attempted to live abroad.

Anywho, part of following one’s intuition requires not listening to others’ opinions of how you should function. Even though our decisions have ripple effects, we’re the ones who must live with outcomes and consequences. In my case, the results are always physical. In this short time, I’d returned to grinding my teeth and waking up in the middle of the night. One day, I’d told my husband I could feel the cortisol releasing in my belly, causing me to be bloated.

So, for now, that’s it for the TESOL portion of my living abroad.

I know it was short lived, but for those of you who know me, I’m sure you are not surprised that I’ve moved on to (as my blogging buddy said) the next right thing, which I will tell you about…later 😉

Other Times I’ve Written About Intuition

Monday Notes: Why I Quit Teaching the 5th Grade After 2 Weeks

~ kegarland ~ 83 Comments

There’s not one reason; there are multiple. And I’m not sure where to begin.

I want to tell you about the red flags I noticed before I boarded my flight, how administration said they were “impressed with my CV and wanted me to help them teach their teachers.” But then shifted from teaching teachers to teaching sixth grade…no teaching fifth grade.

“You can see what our school is like,” they said, “and then teach the teachers next school year.”

I agreed, ignoring the bait and switch.

I want to tell you about a happenstance meeting with one of the co-founders. I drank a Moscow mule and gobbled a cheeseburger as she pulled a crinkled piece of paper out of her Italian handbag. It was an eight-bullet-point letter from the parents. They were concerned about teacher attrition, no art at an “art school,” and a director who’d quit after one month. Next to each point were arrows and scribbles. One was about me. They’d assuage fears by telling parents that “Dr. Garland, from Los Estados Unidos would be joining them to teach fifth grade.”

I agreed, ignoring that I was being used for optics.

I want to tell you my TESOL instructor thought it odd that administration hadn’t connected me with three expats who’d been there since July. Wouldn’t they have insight?

“They probably don’t want me to talk to anyone…,” I said matter-of-factly, “…afraid I won’t come, but I’m still going,” I said with the ego of Dr. Garland from Los Estados Unidos.

I want to tell you about the day before my first day. How I unknowingly dropped dry white rice on the white floor of my home. The next day, I awoke to a mound of big black ants circling the kitchen, some forming a line, carrying rice on their backs from the circle to the door. Then, I saw a roach.

I want to describe to you how I was encouraged to rent this home 900 meters away from the school. But how no one told me the walk is on a highway with no shoulder or sidewalk. For two weeks, I slinked alongside semitrucks, buses, and motorcycles, hoping motorists saw me in time to slightly swerve.

My friend, who is a therapist, affirmed that lack of a sense of safety causes dysregulation.

I want to tell you about my first day. How at seven in the morning, the administrator asked how I was doing.

“Not well,” I told her, as I described the ants, the roaches, the road.

“That’s just Costa Rica,” she assured.

I batted back tears because the person from whom I’d rented the home was also her friend and the HR person. They’d scammed me for one-thousand dollars.

I want to tell you about how 48 hours prior, I’d asked if I was expected to teach Day 1 or if I would have time to orient myself.

“No. You teach,” she said. “This is your class. Do what you want.”

I want you to know that I received my email, the curriculum, textbooks, and direction the day I arrived. A teacher taught me how to use the copy machine. Another showed me how to perform twice-a-day duty that consists of watching children eat lunch and play at recess. They call it cuido; I call it babysitting.

I want to tell you about how this is a bilingual school, but there is more Spanish spoken than English. How everyone greets you with a hearty ¡Buenos Días! but if you mumble ¡Buenas! because you’re thinking about the dead roach you saw that morning, they side eye you, assuming you’re rude or don’t know the language.

How Monday begins with “The National Anthem of Costa Rica” and the “Guanacaste Anthem.” And how stupid you feel standing there, smiling, like a dolt, while ignorant of how to honor the country and the province.

How the day ends with dismissal in Spanish, and yes, yo comprendo, but not under this pressure. A student could miss their bus because I misheard details. So, a teacher enters the class, provides no Spanish greetings or eye contact, and grimaces as if I’m a liability, not an asset, certainly not Dr. Garland from Los Estados Unidos.

How Wednesday’s faculty meeting is 100% in Spanish. And again, yo comprendo, until everyone speaks simultaneously. My brain shuts down right as the bilingual teacher from Philly sidles up to me and whispers translations of faculty drama.

How there is one day I teach for an hour and sit for the other seven with pockets of nothingness. Other days teaching ends by noon.

It’s not all bad, though.

“I love you, teacher,” a few students say. One drew a photo. Another offered white chocolate. One gifted me with a handwritten card. “You’re not boring, like the last teacher,” they say. Even the woman from Philly praises how I’ve built classroom community; she wants to learn this skill.

I can teach her and these students. But I’m torn. I can neither waste my time with this flimsy schedule, nor navigate their system disoriented, so I ask administration if I can be part-time.

“No,” they say. “It won’t be fair to the other teachers.”

My only option is to teach fifth grade.

Without hesitation, my intuition guides me.

“I quit,” I say.

“Friday is my last day.”

Teaching in San Ramón: Final Reflection

~ kegarland ~ 47 Comments

Today’s task was my least favorite. We had to teach a lesson using English only and we had to use a song. Read my views on English-only methods here.

To maintain the self-love (and Latin artist) theme, I decided to use Christina Aguilera’s Beautiful. The program’s premise is that you teach the vocabulary, summarize the song, and ask varying levels of questions in English, then play the song 😮‍💨

I knew before I did the lesson that I wasn’t going to teach only in English not only because of my views, but also because of personal experience. Have you ever been spoken to in another language, while being asked comprehension questions or to do a task? No? Remind me to tell you about the first time my husband and I went to Walmart in Costa Rica. It was intimidating. So, just like the day before, I incorporated some Spanish.

WHAT WENT WELL

Emiliano told my TESOL instructor that he wanted to buy a little notebook, so he could write down and study his English words. That’s how I measure success. It doesn’t matter if I think a lesson went well. What matters is what the students say. Emiliano’s words proved the lesson went well. Anything else I add is literally my perception.

Additionally, I kept the closed caption on as Beautiful played because I wanted them to recognize the vocabulary words they’d just learned. It worked. Emiliano whispered the word insegura when insecure flashed on the screen. I pointed out the phrases I am beautiful; you are beautiful; we are beautiful.

WHAT WAS A CHALLENGE?

¡Ay Dios mio! It is still a challenge to understand these children when they speak. I really do attribute this to my brain having to process so much at one time. Plus, it’s only been three days working with them. However, I am not ashamed to say, “Mas despacio, por favor.” And the kids simply speak slower, so I can understand them, because it’s not that I don’t know the words, it’s just they all run together sometimes.

FINAL THOUGHTS

No matter how much you think you know, you can always learn more.

That’s what this Curriculum/Ethnography Project showed me. If I would have arrived at the daycare center as if I was better than the students, simply because I speak a language others value, have three education degrees, and a bunch of experience, then that would have been dismissive. Instead, I arrived every day as a person who is a guest in this country and at the daycare center. And although I have an extensive background, I’ve never done this before, so I am a learner.

Then, I did these three things.

Developed a relationship at the beginning. Once I decided to base my Curriculum and Ethnography Project at the same place, I knew the first step was to quickly establish a relationship with the students. That’s why I began with a questionnaire of personal questions. Creating individualized flashcards was another way to show the students I cared about who they were and what they wanted to learn, instead of forcing some pre-conceived curriculum on them of what they should learn.

Entered as a language learner. Spanish is my second language, just like English will be these students’. That means I have a level of empathy for them that I can and will always lead with. Sometimes, I was just as uncomfortable as they were to say the wrong word or have the wrong accent, especially because I’m the “teacher.” But I kept trying, which is what I wanted to model for them. For example, whenever Mariana, was hesitant to speak, I told her she could do it, and guess what? She did.

Use culturally relevant materials. I’m 100% sure these students listened to me more because I researched and used artists who were from or connected to Latin America. When Valentina recognized Frida Kahlo, she perked up a little bit and wanted to know what the story was about. When Emiliano realized the photo was Selena, he had much to say. The students knew who Christina Aguilera was but hadn’t heard the song, Beautiful. Cultural relevance in education is not a new theory; however, it is an underused one, especially in the States, and especially because it is now associated with DEI. I’m glad I was able to use it a non-restrictive or prescriptive way with these children.

Okay. That’s it for the reflection on my practicum during my three-week TESOL course.

The next time you hear from me, I will be in Tamarindo at my actual placement at a school called Educarte. More about that later!

Until then, ¡Ciao! (because I also learned that for some reason, they say, “Ciao” here…probably tied to colonialism. I’ll figure that out later)

Teaching in San Ramón Reflection: Day 3

~ kegarland ~ 26 Comments

“I love you teacher,” Valentina said at the end of today’s lesson. That’s how I knew I’d done something right. The lesson was an alternate assignment that required me to use Canva to create a book and Ai to produce Pixar-style photos (apologies to the earth for taking the water we needed for today’s shower).

My unit was about self-love, so I stuck with a similar theme for the book I wrote, which was about a little girl named, Camila, whose teacher had asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I’m big on culturally relevant lessons, so the character thought about her favorite artists: Selena, a Mexican American singer, Frida Kahlo, a Mexican painter, and Isabel Allende, a Chilean American writer.

WHAT WENT WELL

Before I taught the lesson, I did what this program calls a warmer. For the Language Club, I had a separate warmer that was connected to what we’d done the previous day. We began with the personalized handmade flashcards I’d made that derived from answers for Q10. For example, Emiliano wanted to know how to say, Ya me quiero ir, which apparently is a popular meme, so I wrote the phrase in Spanish on one side and on the other side, I wrote the translation in English: I already want to go. I practiced with each student, then we began our lesson.

A Brief History Lesson About Language and Education in the United States

In the States, most English as a second language (ESL) classes in public schools are English-only. Meaning, you are not supposed to use the student’s heritage language. You’re supposed to use English only. From an immersion perspective, I get it; however, I don’t think public-school leadership is savvy enough to be thinking about immersion. I believe these practices date back to Native American boarding schools, where they forced Indigenous people to speak English to assimilate. The consequence, though, was that it murdered their culture. Eventually, many of those students lost their first language and, drumroll please, they ended up only speaking English. Sometimes, this created a disconnect between their selves, their families, and their culture.

BACK TO WHAT WENT WELL

My point is, if you’re intentionally trying to make people lose touch with their culture, then sure, English-only is the way. Otherwise, students should be able to use their home language and the target language, which will result in what is called bilingual education.

Here is how I taught my lesson about Camila:

  • I asked a student to read the page in English.
  • I corrected their pronunciation of specific words.
  • Then, I asked a different student to read it in Spanish (because Mariana couldn’t read English).

We continued like this for all 11 pages.

Then, I switched it up:

  • I read each page in English, so they could hear a native speaker’s accent.
  • Then, two students alternated translating it to Spanish for Mariana.

Two things happened. First, Valentina was excited that she recognized Frida Kahlo, and Emiliano was excited that he knew (and liked) Selena. Second, at the end, the students were eager to tell me what they wanted to be when they grew up: Emiliano said he wanted to be a truck driver or an Uber driver, and Valentina wanted to act hers out, because she wants to be…an actress. Mariana was too shy to share.

WHAT WAS A CHALLENGE?

Ya know…I have had more fluent conversational Spanish with my Didi (CR’s Uber) drivers than I have with these ten-year-old children. I’ve been trying to determine why that could be. I mean, shouldn’t talking to a ten-year old be easier than to an adult? Well, not necessarily. That’s a flawed thought. Just because they’re ten doesn’t mean they’re not fluent in their own language.

I’ve decided it’s because my brain is working overtime. I’m thinking in English, translating to Spanish (sometimes), so the students can understand me, then reading in English and Spanish, and listening to Spanish and trying to make out as many words as I can. And teaching. I’m teaching.

¡Es demasiado! It’s too much, y’all!

But what’s cool is now I have a deep understanding of how a multilingual learner might feel, especially if they’re in an English-only setting. It’s probably frustrating, discouraging, and overwhelming.

Teaching in San Ramón Reflection: Day 2

~ kegarland ~ 25 Comments

On Day 2, I spotted Valentina and Mariana. The third girl was absent. However, Valentina was speaking to a boy named, Emiliano when I arrived (all names are pseudonyms). He spoke to me in English, so I decided we wouldn’t have an all-girl group.

The first step was for them to complete the questionnaire I’d created in English as best they could:

  1. Name
  2. Age
  3. Grade
  4. Do you have any pets?
  5. What is your favorite subject?
  6. Do you have any brothers or sisters?
  7. What do you like to do in your free time?
  8. What do you like about going to this daycare center?
  9. What don’t you like about going to this daycare center?
  10. What words or sentences do you want to learn in English?

WHAT WENT WELL?

All three students knew exactly what the first three questions were asking, and they completed these parts with ease. Because Emiliano spoke some English, he was able to help the other two girls understand the questions. So, he would confirm (in Spanish) with me that he was reading the question correctly, then translate to the other two, then answer in English, like this:

Emiliano: #7: Que le gusta hacer in tu tiempo libre?

Kg: Si. Repite, por favor (I asked him to repeat the phrase for me to learn).

Emiliano: Que le gusta hacer in tu tiempo libre?

Kg: Si…in tu tiempo libre.

Language exchange achieved. I learned how to say, “free time,” and Emiliano’s level of English was affirmed. I also helped Mariana with a few questions by asking her the questions in Spanish.

WHAT WAS A CHALLENGE?

Students were confused with questions eight and nine.

“Te gusta o no te gusta,” they asked, which means you like or you don’t like?

I clarified I was asking both.

The last question was also confusing for them, and it took me a looooong time to get them to answer. First, they said “todo,” which means all. So, I explained that I couldn’t teach them all the English words. It also took a minute to convey that I wanted them to write the English words they wanted to learn en Español.

Overall, I felt much better about this teaching day than when I began. The next day, I planned to make individualized flashcards with the words they requested for Q10.

Teaching in San Ramón Reflection: Day 1

Teaching in San Ramón Reflection: Day 1

~ kegarland ~ 52 Comments

I’m not here to save anyone.

That’s all I keep thinking while doing my practicum in San Ramón, Costa Rica. My TESOL instructor and I talked about how many people enter this program with the idea that they will save the “poor Costa Rican children, like Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds.”

But that’s not me. I’m not here to save anyone.

I’m here to do as my ancestors urged me to do: to use my gifts and talents to be of service to others. In this case, that means using the three degrees I have in education, as well as the decades of experience I’ve accumulated since I was twenty-three-years old, to somehow serve the people of Costa Rica. I’m serving, not saving.

Now, that doesn’t mean it was easy. At first, it wasn’t inherently clear how this would manifest. However, after struggling through a speaking lesson to a group of four-to-twelve-year-old children, the how came into focus.

DAY 1: THE SPEAKING LESSON

Our first day consisted of being thrown into the fire of a daycare center, where we taught fifteen primary students, ages four-to-twelve. I taught high school students for ten years for a reason. Wrangling fifteen Spanish-speaking little people showed me why that was the best career decision ever.

But there was no turning back. I was already committed.

For the first part of the lesson, I asked students to draw themselves, with specific body parts. After, a few students presented. During the presentation, a student stood up and pretended he’d done the assignment. He spoke solely in Spanish, and I was 1000% positive that what he drew and what he said was not good because of the sly grin he possessed while talking and the laughter that ensued from the other boys in the class. A class clown is obvious, no matter the country. Later, I found out he drew the Freddy Krueger mask.

Post-teaching, my TESOL instructor explained the daycare center situation. Her story ended with, “We have to help the daycare!”

Great, I thought.

But then I remembered, I am here to use my gifts and talents to serve others. If I always ask myself, how can I be of service?then answer will appear.

SO, HOW COULD I BE OF SERVICE?

As many of you know, I have a PhD in Curriculum and Instruction (with a focus on media literacy). That means, I know how to create a curriculum for virtually anyone, not with Chat GPT, but with my own little brain. All I need are the following: (1) the age of the students, (2) the subject, and (3) any perceived problems.

Also, for this TESOL course, we were required to complete a Curriculum Project, where we created six lessons that are thematically tied together and an Ethnography Project, where we immerse ourselves in the community.

The weekend I went to Escazú, I came up with an idea to combine both. My Curriculum Project would include lessons for the daycare center, and my Ethnography Project would be to focus on three specific students, as well as reflect on my practice. I wanted to include three girls and create girls’ empowerment lessons. Initially, I was going to call this an English Club, but I remembered, I’m not here to save anyone. In fact, they probably can teach me some Spanish. We can teach each other, and it will be a language exchange; therefore, it is a Language Club!

Monday Notes: Life in a Hostel in San Ramón, Costa Rica

~ kegarland ~ 55 Comments

For the past two weeks, I have been living in a hostel in a small Costa Rican city called San Ramón. As a person who was raised as an only child in a major city and as a person who is a member of several hotel reward programs and as a person who is a lover of thick, fluffy towels and the occasional room service, this experience has been a bit of a culture shock, to say the least.

Here are a few things to which I’ve had to quickly adjust:

LIVING with other PEOPLE

As most of you know, my family consists of four people: my husband, my two daughters, and me. That’s who I’m used to living around or vacationing with. And even though we’re different, we’re alike in that we enjoy each other’s company, but we know when to give each other space. However, at this hostel, I have been living with eight-to-12 personalities. Some sleep in bunk beds and share a room. Others, like me, have single rooms. Each room has a bathroom.

Even though I room by myself, I would like to repeat that I have been living among a gang of strangers. Thus, I have had to learn to engage with other people from the time I awake till the time I go to bed.

And it has been a lot.

Twelve people wandering around means there is always conversation, and there is always commotion. There is always a “problem” to solve, and—it doesn’t matter if you are sitting in deep thought, staring at the mountains, contemplating why in the who hay hell you agreed to live in a hostel—people just walk up and talk about whatever is ailing them at the moment. That’s something I’m just not used to.

WATER outages

The first week we arrived, our hostel manager told us that the country was building a new water system, so the water would be out once a week. The times were from eight in the morning until sometime in the evening. While it was mildly annoying to have to purchase bottles of water to drink, to not be able to wash dishes or cook, or to leave the toilet unflushed, life was still doable. I mean, it was one day, right? I woke up in time to shower, and due to the humidity, had time to shower again before I slept.

I gave myself a little silent pat on the back for “thugging it out” for half a day, sans water. “I’m nothing like those other wussy people from North America,” I told myself.

Well, week two, I learned that sometimes, Costa Ricans predict one thing, then something else happens, like when the water went out for not one, not two, but three days! One of those surprise days, I’d decided to take a half-a-mile walk to do a little evening vinyasa. I fully expected the water to be on when I returned. Surprise! We didn’t have water until 10:30 PM. I was a sticky hot mess. And I was, indeed, a wussy North American, begging the water gods to end my suffering.

DO NOT FLUSH toilet tissue

My husband and I learned about this rule when we were in Monteverde a few years ago. But I thought it was only for that specific region of Costa Rica. Apparently, it is a country-wide thing: No matter if you do #1 or #2, you cannot flush the toilet tissue. You must throw it away in the little trash can next to the toilet. The country’s system cannot handle flushed toilet tissue, and you will flood someone’s house or business if you do so.

Do you know how long it took me to get used to this rule? I’ll spare you the timeline. But I will say, I spent a lot of time reaching into the toilet and pulling out soggy tissue because I kept forgetting.

MISCELLANEOUS

  • I’ve cooked twice and shared food with my coresidents, but I suspect I’m the only person who consistently plans meals. One day, I’d like to simply show up for a dinner someone else has prepared or paid for.
  • We not only live together, but we take our eight-hour-a-day TESOL course together as well. On average, I spend about 12 hours with my coresidents.

Postscript: I wrote this from the Marriott. The water outage at the end of the second week sent me over the edge. I took an Uber to Escazú, a city they call “Little America.” Wonder why? There’s a Hooters outside of my window, as well as an Outback Steakhouse. No worries. I just took a little reprieve. By the time you read this, I’ll be back to entertaining never-ending conversations, throwing soiled toilet tissues in the trash, and crossing my fingers that the water doesn’t shut off mid-stream.

(Virtual) Writer’s Workshop: Character Driven

~ kegarland ~ 9 Comments

On Saturday, February 21st from 1:00-3:00 PM (EST), I will be teaching a 3-hour workshop centered on character-driven narrative. Character-driven narrative is exactly what it sounds like—it’s where the characters drive the story. My memoir, In Search of a Salve is an example of this type of storytelling. Although there is a clear plot, each chapter is devoted to one character, who they are, what their motives seemed to have been, as well as how I perceived the influence the person had in my life. Subsequently, how I described each character shaped the memoir.

For those of you who haven’t read Salve, you can get a sense of what I mean by character-driven narrative or understand how I developed my grandmother’s character over several years, through varied published pieces through my craft essay, Writing My Grandmother into Being: The Art of Honest Characterization.

If you’re interested in learning from me through a virtual platform, then please register here: Character Driven: Master 5 Strategies to Develop Your Character-Driven Narrative.

Let’s say none of this appeals to you…then please consider passing on this information and opportunity to a writer, whom you think would benefit.