OK so stuff here is starting to wind down and I have to write a letter of advice for the next volunteer coming to my school. This kind of threw me for a loop. I had to think long and hard as to what the heck I should tell the next guy (or girl) to come to Rita Elementary School. The problem I have is there is nothing I can say that would adequately prepare him for this place. I thought about just not writing a letter as a poetic way of telling him to blaze his own path.
However, seeing as I need to write a letter in order to get my 1,500-dollar deposit back, I decided to give it a shot.
One, bring a big stick to scare away dogs, knock down spider webs and poke around fires. If you don’t want to bring a stick because of concerns with airport security fret not, there are sticks here as well.
Two, bring your favorite kind of fruit tree. Fresh fruit is expensive and hard to come by. Better just bring your own dang tree and plant it in the front yard. Yes I know this sounds ridiculous but when your skin is turning the varying shades of yellow on the road to scurvy, who will seem ridiculous then?
Three, you’ll need a raincoat. You think you know rain, and then you come here and you see that what you knew before was just the drizzle they use in supermarkets to keep the veggies fresh. Seriously, it rains here like the sky is holding a grudge. If you don’t have a raincoat you could just wrap yourself up in a trash bag, but I thought we were trying to stay away from ridiculous.
Four, get a good camera. There are things you don’t want to miss or forget. This one time a group of girls started blasting out the “Grease” soundtrack on this ratty boom box and shaking, rocking and rolling like they were on American Bandstand. I didn’t take a picture of it. I wish I would have.
Five, consider getting some sort of little vice. For me it’s sugar. Every time that I feel those pangs of homesickness creep on up through my bones I jam about 15 Snickers bars down my throat and I feel strangely better. I also feel very close to diabetic shock but things in life are all give and take. You’ll learn that here better than anywhere.
Six, get a thick skin. I don’t know how you’ll do this before hand. Maybe take an instrument you’ve never played before, say a bagpipe, and go to open-mic night somewhere and belt out “Little Red Corvette” at the top of your lungs – off-key. There are things here that will scar you if you don’t have a thick skin. Stuff kids say and repeat to you. I will spare the details because this is the classy sort of column, but trust me, get that skin thick.
Seven, learn some new words. You try explaining the concept of a volcanic coral lagoon in print. I’ve tried for nine months and still nobody knows what I’m talking about. Maybe if I had more words…
Eight, bring an open mind. This place has the capacity to crawl up inside of you and change you from the inside out. Let it. The people here are these amazing, generous and loving people that you can learn a lot from. Twenty-five years down the road you will not be lamenting the fact that it was so hot everyday, you’ll be telling about how cool it was to be a positive part of a community.
So there’s the letter – can I get my money back now?
1 comment:
Tim, I love reading your blog entries! I think that your letter is marvelous. I hope your skin is thick only when you need it to be.
Post a Comment