We started school again in Honduras this month. That means Steve and I went back to teaching English two days a week at a village school not far from our home. Let's be clear. We're not teachers. We haven't had a day of training in our lives. That we're in charge of a classroom of other people's children is almost laughable. But here we are—fitting in where we're most needed in spite of our shortcomings.
We decided that after nearly three months of "summer break", the kids needed to first review what we taught last year before diving into new concepts. So we prepared ourselves to re-teach the basics for the first month of classes. But as I started with a little warm-up, something unexpected happened. The kids weren't waiting for me to speak so that they could repeat the words. They knew them. I was stunned.
We started teaching English as a way to get our foot in the door to the community—a start to something more important later. I never imagined that our little lessons would amount to actual learning. I'm not amazed that the students learned something (clearly, they're very intelligent kids). But I'm absolutely astounded that I taught them something.