Last week the boys and I spent our afternoons studying Spanish in Cobán. The whole schedule was rather grueling.
Like they do every other weekday morning, the boys left home for school at 6:45. At 10:00, they’d hand their pass to the gun-wielding guard at the school’s gate, catch a bus back to town, and then walk the 20 minutes to our house. The next couple hours were spent resting, eating lunch, and doing chores.
Leaf turned portable shade device.
(Note: one sock on, one sock off.)
At 1:15 we’d tromp back into town together, catch the bus for Cobán, and then walk over a bridge and down the road to the school where, for the next four hours, we had one-on-one Spanish instruction with our respective instructors.
(I wish.)
After thinking so hard our brains shriveled up, we’d do the whole travel thing in reverse, though since it was dark we’d take a taxi for the last little stretch. We’d arrive home at 7 pm, or a little before if we were lucky, and after a quick S&S (supper and shower), the boys tumbled into bed and zonked out. Five-thirty the next morning, we’d wake up and do it all over again.
Like I said, grueling.
By day two the boys were threatening to revolt. But we made it through the meltdowns and the crammed buses and the zany wiggles (my younger son’s teacher held up admirably well) and the groggy mornings and sloggy afternoons and it’s all over now.
Except this week my husband gets to do the whole jig, but this time with the girls. Wish him luck!
Ps. Got a hankering for some Spanish study? Here’s what you do: buy yourself a plane ticket and zip on down here. Stay with us (hard bed, cheap housing, good food, loud housemates), and for 100 bucks a week at this school, you can get 20 hours of hardcore language study. It’s totally worth it.
