Dear Springhouse community,
My husband, Juan Pablo Cubur, is a facilitator and Springhouse staff member, and our 14-month-old son, Daragh, goes with him to Springhouse three days a week. After we moved to the New River Valley, where I grew up, we weren’t sure what Juan Pablo would do for work. As a chemistry, biology, physics, and math teacher in Guatemala with over nine years of experience, he faced the frustrating bureaucratic barriers of transferring certifications in order to continue his vocation—a challenge shared by so many immigrants. Through a serendipitous meeting at an ESL class, Juan Pablo connected with the Springhouse team and learned they were launching a Spanish-English immersion school. It felt almost too good to be true to stumble into a community so deeply aligned with our values.
Juan Pablo and I are both teachers; we met at the school where we worked together in Guatemala. While education is central to our lives, we know that learning core subjects is not enough. More than ever, we all need to remember our connection to both the earth and to each other. Our family’s experience through the U.S. immigration process has not been easy. Being a Latin immigrant in this particular moment in U.S. history is often terrifying, but Springhouse has been a refuge for us—a place where my husband feels safe, and where we feel a deep peace having Daragh in their care.
Last year, hearing the mix of Spanish and English in the school and witnessing the vulnerability of adults and children alike as they practiced a new language was heartening. It is a joy to know that Daragh is part of this intergenerational community. I love watching the elementary students choose to eat lunch next to him, or the high schoolers pause to laugh and play with him.
Seeing him and Aurora growing side-by-side—looked after by Martha and Cass, exploring the creeks, and sitting in the community circles as students sing—is the childhood I would wish for anyone. It is a life of belonging to the earth and to each other. Our family is so grateful to have found refuge in this warmth, and to see our son bloom in a place that truly takes care of vulnerability.
~Deirdre Hand
