Holla at yo boy!

Sorry, but She’s the Man has become one of my favorite movies to quote here.  Don’t know why.

This week has been pretty stressful and sleep deprived, and all I wanted was to survive through Free School today so I could start my long weekend, as tomorrow is a holiday.  I was doing some serious yarping in the car this morning because, as usual, I felt incredibly unprepared.  The good news is, our Father is faithful every day, despite our forgetfulness. 

I adore this culture.  There are some things that frustrate me to no end, like how something that would be a simple task in America becomes a long ordeal due to inefficient systems.  There are so many more things, though, that I love.  I love how relational and unstructured they are.  I know, that sounds crazy, since I’m practically a structure junkie, but being here I’m stretching and learning so much about what other cultures value.

Today in my 5th grade class, after our lesson, I was reading There’s a Wocket in my Pocket and they seemed to be enjoying it, or so I thought, but a few pages from the end they blatantly asked me to stop.  I was kind of frustrated, because the 4th graders had loved it and, quite frankly, I’m a little too OCD to start something like that and not finish it.  After a couple pages of “Madam, sing,” however, I gave up and Hokey Pokeyed, and then did Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes.  After that, they wanted to dance for me, and it ended up turning into a South Asian dance party. 

I doubt my description can do it justice, but picture yourself in a small classroom with 6 or 7 rows of benches and desks, about three students on each side of the middle aisle.  It’s around 90 degrees outside, and the current is out, so it’s somewhat dark and the fan is off.  The walls are made of cement, as well as the floors, and there isn’t an inch of skin without sweat on you.  There’s chalk dust everywhere, including your skin and clothes, and your bright red Toms are now almost white.  A boy who looks about 10 or 11 comes up to the front of the room, and another boy moves up to a closer desk.  The second boy begins singing Shakira’s Waka Waka Africa song and the first boy begins dancing Shakira style to it.  By now, 3 or 4 of the other teachers have come in to watch, and they (as well as you and many students) begin clapping along as you watch. 

It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  In an American school, the principal would have walked by and kindly (or rudely) asked us to get back on task, or other teachers would have tattled on me, but here, when the principal walked by to take me to the next class, the teachers told him to wait a minute so they could finish the song.  I love South Asia.

I don’t get to go back there until May 4th, and while the break will be nice, I’m actually pretty bummed.  I’ve just started teaching class 7 instead of class 3, and those kids are so much more advanced than even class 6, so I’m excited about getting to know them.  They have exams, though, for the next 2 weeks, and those are a pretty big deal here.  Actually, way too big of a deal.  Parents and society place an unfair amount of pressure on the students, and suicide rates are high among students, unfortunately.  Pr*y for them specifically these next few weeks, as I’m sure other schools will be doing their exams, too.

I still can’t believe we’re halfway through.  What a journey it’s been so far.  Last night, we went to our favorite Indian restaurant here to have a goodbye party for a dear friend, and I ordered palak paneer and thought of the goodbye party my friends and I had at the Indian restaurant in Greenville back in December.  I’m already registering for fall classes, now.  Pago! (Crazy)

Love you all.