Becoming La Miss

One day I looked up.

Usually when I looked up at the school in Ticaco I discovered the mountains. When I stood in the middle of the schoolyard, the image of the Peruvian flag waving in front of the sierras consistently surprised me.

How did I get here?

But today when I looked up, I discovered that I am the mom of a bunch of Peruvian teenagers.

How did I get here?

I asked myself this question often during més de misión this past January.

When I “cleaned” dirty/rock paths by moving larger rocks to the side

When llamas passed me in the roads

When I walked through the town with a dripping bag of meat to cook for lunch

When a girl from the town showed me her house, garden and pets (dogs, cats, ducks and guinea pigs)

When I worked alongside Paola in an oregano farm

When I had to clean the balde de chanco (bucket of stinky, dripping food for a pig)

When I yelled at teenage boys to put on pants

When I went to bed every night in a room full of my students; telling them to be quiet while laughing at their conversations

When my name became La Miss

I heard a lot about this “month of mission” beforehand. I knew that it is a month-long service project for the upcoming fourth year students (age 14-15) at my school. The Jesuit volunteers are prime candidates for faculty sponsors, which meant that my first teaching role would actually beassesora (small group/ general leader). My responsibilities would include managing my group during our service work, helping them lead classes for kids in the town, and leading reflections. However, between the volunteers somewhat reserved commentary and the general lack of planning characteristic of Peru, much about my job remained a mystery. I was a little nervous about the length; a month seemed like a long time for a service project. However, when we asked for esperanzas during the first reflection, my hope was time. I was hopeful for this time: time with students, time away, and time doing work I know I love. Looking back on the month, I’m full of gratitude for the time…God answers my prayers, and I am consistently surprised.

It turned out that the responsibilities of an assesora were very different than the job description. I was supposed to coordinate and allocate the tools each workday. We had no tools for the first two weeks. I was supposed to lead nightly reflections. I think we had five total. One thing was consistent. Accompaniment. I ate and slept; worked and played; laughed and cried; listened and shared with my students. We grew together along the way. And I found my heart growing in a way I had not experienced before. My love came quickly and freely. I wanted to offer all I have to these kids: all my time, all my words, all my prayers. I loved when I was proud of them and hated when I was angry. I saw each one. I loved them for their uniqueness, for their own light. And I was grateful for the times when they shared that light (Grace) with me. I wanted to know them and love them. These kids were my family. I let go of my whole world, all I knew, and made them my world. That is why when they began a question, a reflection or a teary-eyed story with “Miss,” it seemed only natural to smile, look them in the eye and say “my child.”

I arrived to Ticaco disoriented- and not just because I rode in a van with 11 teenage girls screaming along to musicaromantica. [Yes, romantic music is a legitimate genre and a favorite of my girls.] The transition time rocked my foundation, and I was still feeling pretty unsteady at the beginning of our journey. More than once I woke up dirty, exhausted, surrounded by whiny teenagers I could barely understand. These times I did not wonderhow did I get here but rather what the HELL am I doing here. But walking with my children I began to feel more grounded— each step of the way bringing me into life here.

The more I think about it, the caminos (roads/paths) in Ticaco are like the road to Emmaus. Like Jesus’ disciples, my heart did burn within me as I walked along the Way. [And we walked ALL the caminos in Ticaco. Several times. So I feel pretty confident about this one.] Now I can wholeheartedly say that the best part about being here is my students. They energize me and give me hope. I feel like I can give of myself more freely and honestly to this service. Accompanying my kids on their mission made me more ready and able to live out my own mission.

While walking and working in MILES of gorgeous, mountainous caminos, I often told my kids to disfruta el camino.As we begin the school year and return to “normal life,” I’ve decided to take my own advice. I’m still at the beginning of my journey here, so there is a lot of unknown. I’m just getting to know my school, my community, my Peruvian family, future friends, Tacna… It’s a lot. But now it feels only natural to look at the road and smile.I’ll enjoy the journey.