Compassionate Communication Course

Classroom Management, Compassionate Communication, Emotional Intelligence and Conflict Resolution for Educators. This is what we studied in our first days as interns at Centro Espiral Mana in Costa Rica. We came together with teachers from all over the Americas to learn about non-violent communication, practice mindfulness, and attempt to view our classrooms from an empathetic, 360 degree perspective.  And if: Classroom Management, Compassionate Communication, Emotional Intelligence and Conflict Resolution for Educators seems like a lot to say, imagine putting it into practice. 

25 teachers, 15 nationalities, 10 days. Most of us had never met before. Many of us did not share a first language. We teach different types of students in very different places in the world. And yet, we came together in an effort to celebrate those differences and simultaneously recognize our shared humanity.

For me, the most powerful moments were those minutes set aside to try to truly listen to one another. It was not easy. I was not always successful. In fact, it may be one of the hardest things someone could ask of excitable, loquacious, sometimes-forgets-to-breathe-between-sentences me.  But I found that real listening-- like anything important-- takes practice.

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

As teachers and as learners we focused on being mindful of our thoughts and words. We studied the universality of human needs. We dedicated time to learning the language of non-violent communication and putting it into practice.

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

Working with feelings and needs cards

The Story of the Three Little Pigs: Re-imagined Compassionately


We also took an Emotional Intelligence test that rated us on various aspects of our responses. For example, I rated extremely high on optimism, but lower on reality testing...

As can be exhibited by when I said to my roommate Vero: "Sure we can both ride one bike! Down a rocky path...with no street lights...in the rain..." (we only made it to the end of the driveway before I fell off).

Though the subject matter was often emotionally charged, we still embraced the 'pura vida' mantra of our surroundings: 

Edgar's daily cafecito in a chammock (chair + hammock).

Siesta in the sunshine

In our downtime outside of class, we saw some of the country:

Afternoon trip to Termales Los Larureles-- volcano heated hotsprings!

Volcan Arenal, in nearby La Fortuna

Photo courtesy of Ragan A.

Zip lining!

Whee! Here I come!

Heidi waaaay out on the Tarzan Swing

Though, often the country came to us:

Photo courtesy of Ragan A.

Ragan welcomes a class visitor

Photo courtesy of Sarah M.

 Carolina in her element

Photo courtesy of Sarah M.

Vero and Pantera (Mary's pup)

Goodbyes proved incredibly difficult when the time came, but we all had classrooms and students waiting for us. The other teachers packed up and returned home to start the new school year, while Heidi, Shin, Ragan, Dana and myself headed off to various corners of the country to start our internship teaching. 

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

Goodbye hugs

Shin with our Kitchen Angels-- Libia and Donay

The whole crew with our hard-earned certificates on the last day of the course

Up next: Rural living and 7th graders



Love from,


Kerk

What's up, Costa Rica, what's up?

A dear friend of mine recently phrased it perfectly when she stated, "In grad school, time is unbalanced. The days take forever, but the months are short." During my first semester of coursework, most days were composed of strings of papers and group projects stretching off into the horizon.

   

And yet, it seemed like mere weeks later that I was touching down in a new country for my teaching internship, ready to put everything I'd learned into practice. We'd been offered options for both domestic and international internship placements-- ranging from ritzy private academies in New England to teaching in Burmese refugee camps in Thailand. I'd gone to half a dozen interviews but kept my fingers crossed for one place in particular. And to my delight, New Year's Eve, 2013 found me kicking off my snow boots as I boarded a flight to Costa Rica.

Adios, snowy New England...

What's up Costa Rica, what's up?


I headed down early to get acclimated and see if remembering how to speak Spanish is just like riding a bike (it's not...). My classmate Dana and I met up and spent the next two days exploring San Jose. One of our professors had jokingly challenged the two of us to see who could bring the LEAST on a two-month trip...

Photo courtesy of Dana B.

Photo courtesy of Dana B.

Challenge accepted. Please note those backpacks contain: teacher clothes, hiking clothes, classroom supplies, computers and textbooks. Minimalists for the win.

We spent the holiday exploring the capital city--

Strolling the streets

Speculating about the origins of the mysterious 'spheres' that can be found around the country

Being theater nerds at the famous Teatro Nacional

Ceilings inside Teatro Nacional depicting two major sources of industry: bananas and coffee.

And hopping on the Tico Train!

But our time as tourists didn't last long. Soon we met up with our three classmates and were winding our way by van into the lush countryside, on our way to our supervisor's school in the tiny town of El Invu de Penas Blancas.

Views out the van window on the way north

One-way bridges

The 'center of town' in rural El Invu.

Classmates in Costa Rica- Shin, Ragan, Heidi, Dana y yo


Our internship marked the 10th year that Mary, our supervisor, has invited SIT interns to her school,Centro Espiral Mana-- a center where teachers come from all over the Americas to study pedagogy and attend specialized teacher training courses.

The turn-off to the Centro

Entrance to the school

A relaxed, green space for learning

Over the course of ten days, the five of us came together with 15 other teachers from all over Central and South America, to take a course officially titled: Classroom Management, Compassionate Communication, Emotional Intelligence and Conflict Resolution for Educators. Whew! What that boils down to is we spent the better part of two weeks studying non-violent communication and practicing how to become more empathetic and compassionate teachers...and human beings. Our days at the Centro consisted of:


Hours of study

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

Storytelling and reflection

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

Eating and celebration

Photo courtesy of Mary S.

And, of course...the occasional dance party!

Photo courtesy of Sarah M.

Seriously, how did I ever make friends before Gangnam Style?

Photo courtesy of Sarah M.

Pura vida, indeed.

Up next: Compassionate Communication in action

Love from,


Kerk

Aventuras de las Primas: Parte Tres

Ahhh, horseback riding. It always seems like an inspired idea-- fresh air, exhilaration, exploring that unspoken connection between animal and man...until you remember that you are not athletic and awake the next day whining that, "My everything hurts." Fortunately, in Mendoza, there's a hotspring for that!

The Andes giveth, the Andes taketh away


We spent our last day in Mendoza recuperating at Termas Cacheuta- a spa fed by natural hotsprings in the foothills. Because it's quite small, only a certain number of people can visit each day, and we secured the last two spots. We took full advantage of our good fortune by:

 Soaking in the pools

Basking in the sunshine

Trying out all the features

And sampling the entire lunch buffet

In our bathrobes.

Then, after treating ourselves to massages, we played in the mud...

                                         

The therapeutic mud at the spring supposedly contains minerals to restore your skin and hair, so we took no chances and plastered ourselves head to toe.

We soon noticed that all the other young women there were daintily smearing their bodies with thin, delicate layers of mud, primarily on the chest and legs. To which Jen and I responded in a ladylike fashion by flinging huge clumps of it into one another's hair.

Midwestern chic.

Eventually, we had to clean off and head to the tiny Mendoza airport to catch our flight back to Bs As. On the flight home, it suddenly hit me that not only was an amazing vacation coming to an end, but I had to start my goodbyes to the life I had built here.

As a child, I celebrated all my birthdays at Jen's house. My grandpa's birthday is two days before mine, our cousin Nikki's the day after, so it was always more like an August birthday family extravaganza. It seemed only fitting that my last day in Argentina with my cousin was, in fact, my 28th birthday.

Jen treated me to a last night out on the town and bought tickets to a ritzy tango show.

Huge, swanky theater downtown

Complete with a three course dinner and wine.



We were invited to take a tango lesson before the show, which I think was mostly to make us appreciate how hard it is to not fall on your face when kicking in heels.

Since we came without partners, we got to take turns practicing with the instructor. Well played, us.

We weren't allowed to take pictures, but the dancers were incredible. We both agreed that our instructor was the best one, but perhaps we were a bit biased on account of his half unbuttoned shirt...

The next day, Elsa saw us off with a surprise birthday lunch.

I kept coming back for more hugs as Elsa promised I could return any time. Just months before we had been complete strangers living in the same space, barely able to communicate-- yet now here we were, clinging to one another and trying not to totally lose it as we packed up the taxi. And then, I was heading home.

Jen told the crew it was my birthday and the captain came over the intercom and announced it to the entire plane. I did the whole, '"Oh, stop-- I'm so embarrassed!" while secretly loving it' thing.

My cousin gripped my hand as we took off-- mostly because she's terrified of flying, but at least in part because she saw the tears I was trying to hold back begin to slip down my cheeks. "Go ahead and cry, it's okay," she whispered and then focused on trying to squeeze my fingers off as the wheels went up.


My life in Buenos Aires had been such a series of ups and downs-- from the total suckiness of being mugged to the joy when my students helped me realize that I want to teach for the rest of my life. From those days where I was so anonymous that people looked right through me, to the comfort of being recognized in a city of 17 million. I had yo-yoed from screaming with impatience at the fact that banks are open at the most inconvenient hours and there is a street-blocking protest every other minute, to pausing to savor the pace of a city so vibrant, with so many stories to uncover, that I wanted to walk its streets, watch its people and be in awe of it forever.

I was ready to go home, but a part of me felt that I was also leaving it.



Love from,


Kerk