Written by Teryn Hytten, 17, a junior in Hinesburg, Vermont, for the World Is A Classroom essay contest.
How far do you want to be from the program house? Five minutes? Ten?
We were gearing up to start our nine-day homestays in San Juan La Laguna, Guatemala, and I was prompted by our group leader to take a geographical risk. They identified that a few more minutes of walking each day would create independent moments for exploration, thought, and discomfort; in a surge of boldness, I answered that question with a single word: far.
My stomach twisted with a roiling mix of excitement and nerves as I stepped out onto the porch where the homestay mothers gathered. Thoughts threaded through my mind: how could I form a relationship across the Spanish language barrier? What would it feel like to live with a family for nearly two weeks and then leave?
My homestay sister Belén was the first to draw me back to the moment. At 6 years old, she simply took my hand as she, my homestay mom, Victoria, and I walked home through the colorful streets of San Juan. She communicated through physical touch, play, and laughter. Less confined by the barriers of language, she was able to mediate a connection almost instantaneously.
My homestay mom and I took more time to understand each other, yet we fostered our relationship through cooking. Making pitiful, misshapen tortillas and watching her fry and eat them just the same taught me she was patient and compassionate.
While my immediate household was a unit of three, hidden in the word “far” was a larger network of family. I got to know Victoria’s sister and mother who equally welcomed students into their homes. I grew up in a place where success is measured by the child’s departure from their parental figures. In San Juan, I witnessed the strength of siblings and parents who shared lives into adulthood.
Nine days encircled by their intertwined lives and love, my one-dimensional understanding of my future began to shift. I endeavor to pursue my interests yet maintain strong community connections akin to what I witnessed.
On our final day, Victoria helped me dress for our homestay-family potluck, and we all gathered in the library for a concluding meal. I tried to communicate my gratitude for her in my sputtering Spanish, but eventually, I reverted to 6-year-old wisdom and hugged her. I attempted to embrace her in a way that said “Thank you for creating a space for me in your family. Thank you for teaching me hidden and important lessons.”
The morning we left, Belén and Victoria parted with me at the first street corner. I took those minutes alone to feel all the emotions of departure, to savor the rainbow-hued city streets and breathe in the aromas of tortillerias one last time. As I walked that last distance to the program house, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for “far.”
Written by Teryn Hytten.
Featured in the Teach & Travel November issue.
