The End

Yesterday afternoon I went to the literacy class. The coworker who normally accompanies me was in the hospital. Security can only accompany me part way so we planned for Luis, my helper, to pick me up at the car. Last week when I arrived nobody was there to meet me. Luis was sick and the rest of his family is not reliable. Although we had just spoken on the phone, nobody came.

Yesterday was the same. I called at noon to ask them to send someone to meet me. I called again to say I was on the way. Once again I got there and nobody was there.

The security guard and the driver were not pleased. They told me in the future I should not go without my coworker. They also asked me to speak to the head of security about a safer plan if my coworker could not be there.

After a third phone call finally my students sent someone to get me. He isn't a student, but he is someone I know and trust. He volunteers for Impacto Juvenil. For the first time, I was angry with my students.

On the way up the mountain we always toss a rock onto the tin roof of one student's house. The pebble on the roof is a secret code. She and her husband always pop out the door and follow me up the mountain for class.

Yesterday I stopped to find a pebble. When I tossed it onto the roof the boy who accompanied me said the couple was not home. I could tell he didn't want to say any more, so I didn't ask. He's not part of the class and shouldn't have to be involved.

As we continued up the mountain I thanked him for coming to pick me up. I asked if Luis was still sick. He said no. Luis and the couple who live in the house all left. They went to pick coffee for two months outside of the city. They will come home on Christmas Eve.

I was shocked. Two of my best students were gone. Graduation is only weeks away. After eight months of studying, they just packed up and left.

When I got to the top of the mountain I called out to another student. She lives on one of the peaks. It took a while for her to answer. All of her neighbors joined in yelling, "Your professor is here!" Finally she poked her head out. She yelled down that she was making tortillas. I asked her to please come when she finished. She said sure, she will come. She never came.

When I got to the class I asked them to take out their homework. Nobody had done their homework. In fact, one student said, "I never thought about the class this week."

I said, "This class is for you. It's your class. I thought about the class this week. I prepared the lesson. I thought about the things that each of you need and brought those things with me. That is all I can do. I am sad that you didn't think about the class this week."

I have been telling them every week that I can only present the information. I cannot put the information into their brains. They must study at home. They have to do their part. We talked about that again. I cannot do this for them.

One student started in with the usual excuses, "I can't study because I have to sweep and mop the floor."

I reached my limit. I put my hands over my ears and said, "I don't want to hear any more excuses. Everyone. EVERYONE has 15 minutes each day if this class is a priority to you. You make time for things that are important."

I listened as they talked about poverty. I listened as they talked about being raised in a time when schools didn't exist. I listened.

And then I told them I have given them every opportunity. They have everything they need. In fact I come each week asking if there is anything they lack. I come to their houses, knock on their doors each week and walk them to class. All they have to do is study and walk a few steps to the classroom. They all looked down at the table. I said if they want to break the cycle of poverty this is their chance! But they have to do their part.

I asked for a commitment - a promise that they would study for 15 minutes every day. That is so very little! We talked about the fact that we have been reviewing and reviewing and we can't advance because they are forgetting what they learn in class when they don't study at home. They all agreed. They can see they have stopped advancing.

The youngest student said that she would like to continue. She made a commitment to study. Two more said they could not commit, but would drop in on classes if they have time. The student who was making tortillas never came.

We had a good time of prayer. I told each of them that I love them and I am not judging or criticizing them. They hugged me and told me they know my love for them.

I asked the youngest student, the one who said she is willing to commit to the class, to please walk me to the car. We talked about the fact that part of the class is also getting me back and forth safely. They all understand the danger.

As we left the building I headed up the mountain. I turned to look behind me. Nobody was there. I was alone. Then I saw the youngest student ducking behind a wall in an effort to get back to her house unseen. She doesn't like to walk. Although she knows the danger, she was not committed enough to walk me to the car.

I called out to her and asked her to walk with me to the car. She objected. Her mother was ashamed and agreed to walk me to the car.

I felt disappointed and hurt.

Last night I looked back over the past several weeks. I realized this pattern has been building for a while. Three weeks ago the whole class forgot how to add 1+1. That was when I saw how little they are willing to invest outside of the classroom. We were working on adding double digits and they forgot basic math.

I've been patient. I've been understanding. I love them! I know they never had much structure in their lives. Attending class and studying is new to them. Maybe I babied them too much. Maybe I should have been stricter from the beginning. Who knows.

I couldn't just leave them hanging. But I can't help them. I can't help them if they are not going to study. I can't help them if they aren't willing to make sure I get to class safely.

They've worked for eight months. I really want to see them have the opportunity to graduate.

Last night I called my sick coworker and told her the whole story. Her response was simple. "They don't want to." 

Later, I was sitting in my room with all of the lights off, praying. Fany came to the window. She asked what was wrong. I repeated the story to her. She echoed my coworker's words. "They don't want to."

I called a fellow missionary. She advised me to call my boss.

This morning I called my boss. I asked for an appointment to speak to her. She said sure, then asked what was wrong so I ended up explaining it all over the phone.

Her answer was simple. She said this is a pilot project. She said I gave it my best shot and I did a good job. But if the students are not invested, there is nothing we can do. They have to do their part. She has been working with the literacy program for 16 years. This is something she has run into over and over as we try to capacitate adults in Honduras. Sometimes they are not willing to put in the work for what they want. She said it is time to stop.

My heart hurt.

I said I can't just leave them hanging so close to graduation. She told me there is a classroom really close to them where they can go and finish if they choose. It uses the same curriculum.

I have a meeting with the lady who runs that classroom in an hour. I will ask her if my students can transfer into her class, if they choose.

That plan gave me peace.

I can't go up the mountain alone and I can't rely on them to walk with me.

I can't do the work for them.

But I can give them the opportunity to graduate through this other location which is close and easy to get to. It's in their hands now.

There is a part two to this story, but I have to get ready for the meeting with the literacy teacher and I think this was a lot to digest.

It's finally sinking in and I am finally feeling peace about it. I wish it had ended differently. I wish I could share photos of each of the seven students receiving their diploma. But that is not the ending to this story. What I can say is the Doña Fransica learned she can sign her name. She also learned she is capable of learning. She can no longer say, "I know nothing."

The rest of the students all learned how to read and do basic math. They have the materials they need to continue their studies if they choose.

And, though you may think I'm foolish, the most important thing to me is that every one of my students know that I love them deeply in God's love. I want them to have the best life possible with all of the opportunities in the world. I appreciate and respect them. I hope this class brought them as much joy as it did for me.