It was now Friday and I was walking back to my new apartment after grabbing a quick lunch of two empanadas. It wasn’t enough but I was in a bit of a rush having changed airbnbs in the middle of the day before our scheduled 3 o’clock session with the older kids from Levántate y Anda. I felt a raindrop graze my ear “uh oh”. For what it’s worth, I was pretty fortunate for the past nearly seven days. This was the first day it rained, and you could hardly call these light showers even that. But alas, that’s the climate here in Bogota. If you check the forecast all it says is siempre cambiando.

My heart dropped a bit more once I arrived at the foundation’s office only to see a much heavier downpour outside. As we waited rather, hoping for the storm to pass I took the downtime to chop it up with Yasser and co.

We were all a bit tired, it was Friday and the body surely felt it – I guess is the best way to put it. He had faith that the rain would disappear in due time, and plus the kids were only just starting to arrive at the foundation anyway, so I had a feeling we’d be okay. With that little hiccup out of the way and the window showing nothing but clear skies, we began to make our way down to the first floor of the foundation. To get there, I passed by the niños from Wednesday’s session where I was met with hugs and high fives and a bunch yelling out “Hola Profe!”

“¿Hola Profe eres de Portugal?” asked a boy named Augustin – donning a full soccer kit from head to toe.

I don’t for the life of me know why he asked if I was Portuguese, but he kept the charade going, following the question up with a “Futebol! Let’s go play futebol!” I spent the next couple blocks with Augustin as we talked the entire way to the court – he was noticeably passionate about soccer, that was for sure.

He and a girl were carrying my two bags of equipment, with Augustin dragging the bulk of my soccer balls in his bag. Recognizing the roundness of the mystery items inside the black bag he was carrying, Augustin began to kick the bag with his foot as he held it in his hand. “Son pelotas, Profe?” he asked.

“Si, pero we don’t have enough for everyone so if you want to go home with one you’ll have to win it,” I could see his eyes light up, and his wheels started to spin, hoping he might be one of the lucky ones that day.

As we walked straight a few more blocks I noticed that the turf field up ahead was again spoken for, much like on Wednesday, so we moved to a cement court behind that of the one from our first session. I gathered the kids at center court, there were 11 of them – all from the oldest of the three age groups at the foundation. Before anything, we had a little charla so I could explain that we had gifts for every participant, but only a certain amount of soccer balls for which we would be playing games to find their new owners – just as I had explained to Augustin. I explained a bit further that in those games we would all have an equal opportunity to win.

“So I’m asking you now, I don’t want to see any of you getting angry, or sad, because you guys understand we only have a small amount and if you want them you have to win. This means I’m going to need all of you to concentrate,” I added, just to make sure we were all on the same page.

With everyone in agreement, we jumped out with a listening activity. We had to go with groups of 3 since I only had four soccer balls left for this session. Not ideal, I know, but we could make it work. After a few rounds of that, I broke into our second variation of the listening exercise where the kids had to run right or left after being lined up single file in the center. Tired of having all the fun myself, I stopped midway through to deploy a young girl named Sthephanny to act as my captain. I told her to shout the commands as loud as she could – which she did accordingly

As I watched from over her shoulder I noticed the kids, especially the girls, having a laugh.

“Nariz!” my captain said.

“Narizita!” yelled a group of girls near the front of the line.

“Cintura!”

Again, “Cinturita!”, this time, following it with a shake of their hips.

“Pecho!” yelled Sthephanny.

“Pechocita!” they responded, now with a little shimmy of their shoulders, all the while sharing a big laugh through it all.

Augustin was one of them, so I called him into the center to explain the rules to the group as a whole. “Ah profe I need to practice!” one girl said.

Once we were ready, I shared that this group would have two winners i.e. we would play until two were left standing. A round with plenty of laughs, and some sighs later, we were left with two girls – both Sthephannys I think actually. We ended up playing it out til the end just for fun but I couldn’t even tell you which girl won. Sthephanny beat sthephanny… I can at least tell you that for sure lol.

“Ok guys, let’s go again but this round we only have a prize for the last person!” I yelled out, as everyone sprang back to their feet hoping they might be the one to outlast all the others.

“Profe wait!” exclaimed one girl right before her turn “mano…cabeza, cabeza… mano” she whispered to herself.

“‘Tas lista?” I asked, “Si profe,” she responded, just before performing the opposite command to perfection.

We kept going round and round, they were really getting the hang of it now! Augustin was still in it, hoping to leave with one of the new balls he had helped carry from the foundation to the park. A group of two girls were noticeably struggling, but still in the game – I took a quick pause and told them both to just breathe, and with my hand in front of my chest we breathed in and out slowly, before resuming the vuelta. It was a tight one, with Augustin and one of the girls the only two left gunning for that coveted spot of last person standing.

“Mano,” I yelled, Augustin caught it with his hands. “Oh no!” he yelled, immediately throwing the ball up into the air. We had a new winner!

Three of the winners were girls, so let’s see if the streak will continue.

“Ok guys, last round, last soccer ball,” I said.

Before we could jump into it a group of participants lined up inside the circle, “Profe let’s practice a little bit,” they said. One by one, we ran through the commands until they felt comfortable enough to begin. Our past winners were playing too – but just for fun como siempre. 

I kicked things off, doing a standard first round before beginning to lose eye contact with the kids to try to throw them off, after all they were near seasoned veterans by this point. One of the more talkative girls of the bunch, Mary Jane, yelled out “Aye profe no, don’t look at me!” as I had gone down pretty much the entire line yelling out commands but maintaining my eye contact directly at her.

After a spirited last round finally we had ourselves a winner – another girl. From there, We wrapped things up with a charla, the kids sharing some of their favorite parts of the session as they all rested their legs on the rock bleachers. Some of the kids loved mano o cabeza, some talked about learning to use both feet, others just shared nice words of thanks like “thank you for traveling from far away to teach us about soccer today.”

After some strong rounds of applause our prizewinners stepped forward to choose new soccer balls while all the others lined up to receive their consolation prize, an Around the Worlds branded drawstring bag.

“Ah profe can you sign my ball?” asked one of the girls.

“And my bag!” questioned another.

“Don’t worry, once we get back to the foundation I will,” I said, reassuringly.

We then lined up with our partners and made the 10-block walk back towards the foundation’s main building. “Oh wait! I forgot, we have bracelets for the winners,” I said to Yasser.

“Ah que chevere prof,” said one of the girls, Hellen, who had been particularly helpful and bubbly throughout the session.

We were carefully counting them out to see if we had enough for everyone or for just the prizewinners or the non-prizewinners. Our group was 11 deep and I was almost certain I only had 10, but Mary Jane offered to count just to make sure. Sure enough, the count was 10. We decided it would be best to give them to the participants who had received bags. After all, the soccer balls were a special enough prize for the day in and of themselves. 

“Ah profe, quería una pulsera,” said Hellen with some puppy eyes.

“Mira Hellen we have like 5 blocks before we arrive at the foundation, you can decide before then if you would like to trade your new ball for a bracelet,” I said. She won one round of mano o cabeza. 

“A ball for a ball,” I said jokingly, pointing at the small soccer ball attached to the Colombia colored bracelet.

“Ah profe no, come on… of course I want to keep my soccer ball” she said. 

We were now back in front of the foundation, “Okay little Hellen, last chance, are you going to trade?” I said, dangling the bracelet in front of her.

“Profe nooooo!” she said, before darting up the steps of the foundation.

We made our way up to the fourth floor where I sat down and a line formed in front with the participants clutching their bags and soccer balls.

“Profe regálame su firma por favor?” they were asking.

“Ok, but listen, I have a jersey here so we can trade autographs, I’ll give you mine if you sign my Colombia jersey” – one I had bought with the intention of gifting to someone from Matt’s Kindness Ripples On, who had awarded us a $500 programming grant just a month ago.

“Deal!” the kids responded.

One by one, I signed each bag and ball. After 15 minutes passed, my captain for the day – Sthephanny reached the front of the line, “Profe can you write ‘for Camilo’?” she asked softly. Before I could ask why, she finished her thought, “It’s because I’m going to give my ball to my dad, he loves soccer and I love him.”

I couldn’t really respond because I was kinda speechless, it was a really sweet gesture and not at all a surprising one from my captain. As Mary Jane helped others sign the jersey, the younger kids from Wednesday’s session made their way upstairs to add their own firmas too. A couple kids who already received autographs got back into line – “Profe? Can you write something in English on my bag? Anything, just a phrase or something.”

“Just no groseras!” another added.

I racked my brain, honestly I felt unable to even think in English after a week of pure Spanish.

“Never stop dreaming,” I wrote on one.

“You are amazing!” I wrote on another

Another girl approached me, “Profe please write ‘Te Amo’,” so I did, because Esteban is a man of the people.

Through it all though, little Hellen was still determined to get the last bracelet I had after having given the other two to Yasser and my other contact, Johanna, who had helped coordinate our sessions together.

“Profe, ¿cuándo te vas?” she asked.

“I think this Sunday,” I said.

“Sunday is my mother’s birthday!” she said with a big smile.

“Did you get her a present yet?” I asked.

“Ah profe I want to pero no tengo plata,” she replied.

I reassured her that a card with just words written and thought of by her would be plenty enough, but knew what had to be done.

“Okay listen Hellenita, what we can do is give your mom this Colombia bracelet, what do you think?” I asked.

Her eyes perked up, the corners of her mouth curled up into a smile.

“Really profe?” she asked.

“Yes, but you have to promise me you’ll give it to her,” I said.

“You know that I’m in contact with Yasser so if I see a picture of you on Monday wearing this bracelet I’m going to be very unhappy,” I said.

“I promise Profe!”

I outstretched a pinky, and she did the same, and now it was all out of my hands – both literally and figuratively. “Gracias Profe!” she exclaimed with excitement, nearly unable to wait until her mother’s special day that weekend. Before she disappeared down the steps, she poked her head back into the room “and I promise Profe I’ll make sure to take a picture of her using it so you know I wasn’t lying” she said, with one last radiant smile.