Before we get into Panama, I must defend myself against accusations of lackadaisical blogging. My last post may have been published January 11th, but I have not been idle these past 6 months. Besides my work grading countless papers, coaching a rowing team, and petting my kitties, I have in fact worked frequently on updating my blog - in the sense that I often think of amusing titles I might write posts about. It's just that I never actually write them. Accordingly, as a form of apology, I offer those titles to you now:

Crime and Punishment: A young teacher finds how obvious plagiarism leads to creative excuses

Snow Days of Our Lives: A new English teacher slowly loses his mind due to two weeks of snow-enforced vacation

Row, Row, Row Your Boat....HARDCORE Down the Stream to VICTORY: An inexperienced coach of a terrible crew team tries to get his team to not lose every goddamn race, or at least not run aground quite so much. Actually, I did write a version of this one - the school newspaper asked me to write up something about the crew team. Here's the link.

Moving on, now that it is summer break, I will return to writing. I recently returned from a school trip to Panama, and I have a couple tales to tell, and many pictures to share.

The trip was centered around a class of Sophomores and Juniors called STRI. This is a science elective centered on the work of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, and designed specifically to support this trip. Like most science electives, the student population is mixed - some kids, especially the sophomores, take it because they actually really enjoy science. Others, especially the Juniors, take it because they don't want to (or can't) take any AP science courses. Regardless, the kids spent nine months learning about tropical ecology and preparing to explore Panama.

The trip began just about two weeks ago. 22 kids, 4 chaperones, countless nervous parents, and a bunch of matching red backpacks met at Norfolk International, ready to take off for Panama.

Our initial destination was Gamboa, which is a mostly-deserted town on the Canal that had been an important part of the American canal management - now turned over to the Panamanians, who have focused their interest mainly on the docks, and let the town slowly crumble. We stayed at Guido's Place - a former home for canal engineers turned into a hostel for ecotourists. Guido's place was great - despite the pervasive insect life and that you couldn't flush toilet paper down the toilet, it was still a step above my normal standard of travelling accommodations, and I greatly enjoyed observing hummingbirds and agoutis eating their breakfast as I ate mine. From there we had day jaunts to all sorts of interesting places like STRI sites in different parts of the country, monkey boat rides, and hikes. I'll put in some pictures. First, Gamboa:

Second, some highlights of our excursions:

The kids, generally speaking, handled leaving their families and familiar environment with aplomb. Not all were quite as thrilled to leave home as I was in high school (once, when asked how on earth I had been able to leave my family and go to boarding school, I responded "Have you met my family?"), but they were good. We did have a few nervous kids, a few picky eaters, and a few cases of diarrhea (3 of which belonged to me and the other chaperones). They, like me, greatly enjoyed learning about the tropical jungle, which is like the Appalachian jungle in terms of density, darkness and moisture, but far more poisonous. I did see a bullet ant (if more than 9 sting you, you can die), but I and the children kept our distance, and everything was fine.

We then moved to Portobelo, which, to paraphrase something my mother once said about New Bedford, Massachusetts and the whaling industry, never really recovered from the end of the conquistadors. This Caribbean town is teeming with environmental and historical interest, but is crumbling away in desperate poverty. We stayed at an incredible scuba center and spent all our time snorkeling and, if you were one of the students, trying to sneak into dark corners to make out with your significant other. Take it from me: there is little more tedious or obvious pointless than trying to stop teenagers from making out with each other, especially when sequestered in cabanas on the Caribbean coast. Another thought: snorkeling, while it took me a little while to stop constantly thinking that I was drowning, was amazing.

We then went to the farm, where we were slated (logically enough) to do farm work. We were doing work for the nuns who ran the farm, who themselves worked for an orphanage in the city. This seemed ok, but the farm turned out to be a bit of a let down. The nuns had no work for us, the accommodations were converted stables without AC or walls that reached the ceiling, and the heat was oppressive. The only bright spot in the farm experience was the tendency of various animals to make their way into the dorms, and then excitement attendant upon getting them out. In two days, we had several frogs (two of whom found their way allegedly by coincidence into the other male chaperone's room), one chicken, innumerable moths, and one bat. The bat was particularly disturbing because I would try to read by the light of my headlamp, attracting moths, who would in turn attract the bat. I tried to stoically ignore the circular drama of life buzzing and flapping around my head, but I was unable to do so - which turned out to be a positive, as the bat then went and landed on the sleeping students' faces, presumably because he too wanted to liven up the farm experience.

Leaving the farm was far and away the most exciting portion of the trip. Since the farm is at the end of a long and poorly maintained country road, our guide left us with his 2001 Land Rover Defender, a massive, diesel, and stick shift truck, which I got to drive from the farm into the city. This was easily the most terrifying experience of my past year, and except for the moment when I thought I had missed my Freshman year English exam, perhaps my entire life. It was a dented, roaring beast that required constant focus, muscle, and downshifting whenever there was any sort of incline. My left leg ached for two days after, thanks taking that damn thing out of gear. The shifter itself was as long as my forearm, and required a determined, even violent touch. And, needless to say, Panamanian traffic is not quite like Grand Rapids traffic, though being in a Land Rover does give its driver a certain feeling of security. On the other hand, making a u-turn, which is common and necessary Panamanian driving maneuver, generally performed in the middle of bustling highways, always required a three point turn. Since I do not speak Spanish, I do not know exactly what the other drivers were trying to tell me while I stopped traffic to do this, but their honking and hand gestures suggested that not knowing what they said is probably best in this case.

After making our way into the city, we dropped the kids off at their homestay, and began the chaperone-only portion of the trip. This was magical. We could drink alcohol, use curse words, and not worry about who was making out with whom. We did have some worries about drinking on the home stays, but mostly that was out of our hands and into the hands of the ultra-wealthy Panamanians our kids were staying with. We spent the final three days going to islands, eating great meals, and wandering around Panama City. Finally, yesterday, we flew home, and now, here I am. To summarize, here are some videos I took of leaf cutter ants: