(I wrote this blog in India)
A year ago a Tuesday would probably involve me rolling out of bed around 7:45 and jumping in the shower. I would have probably been praying for a snow day or longing for February vacation. Tuesday is my least favorite day in the teaching world. Monday is the honeymoon day and Tuesday we remember that the rules at school are hard.
I would have either rummaged through my closet looking for an outfit before settling for something in the pile of clothes on the chair or the floor. I would have rushed out the door and started driving to work as my wet hair turned to icicles. I would have used the windshield wiper fluid to see through the windows as I drove.
I would have buzzed into the parking lot around 8:15 for bus monitor duty and after 30 minutes swerving through the back roads of Brockton, I would arrive with the kids to unload for the day.
My staff and I would have piled upstairs striving for a single file line and helped our friends unpack for the day. We would start the hustle and bustle that occurs in a kindergarten classroom: morning circle, center time, and letter work. My friends would go to lunch and recess. We would do quiet time and math. We would have specialist and choice time. We would probably finish our day with some fresh popped popcorn and goodbye circle.
I would board the school bus once again for monitor duty and arrive back at school around 3:30 to clean up the classroom from the day. I would hop in the car and head to a home-visit for another 2 hours before going home for a little run around the block. At this point I would probably collapse on the couch and spend the rest of the night going between Facebook and World Race blogs.
Today I rolled out of bed at 8:15; I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs to meet the team for breakfast. We walk the 2 blocks to the home where were we would be served chai and a warm Indian breakfast.
Today all 6 of us load in the van and drive for 20 minutes to the center. We walk through what appears to be alleyways with house upon house. We are walking through the slums, through the red light district. We are at a building that looks like a storage unit, but what it really is in a center for children, a refuge, Noah’s ark is painted on the wall and a chalkboard stands dividing ¾ of the 8 X 16 ft. room allowing for separation in the kitchen.
Kids start rolling in 1 after another; before we know it there are 30+ kids under the age of 5 staring at us. We start doing action songs. Our arsenal goes quicker then we hope: “Days of the week,” “Month Macarena,” “Pharaoh, Pharaoh,” “5 little monkeys,” “5 green and speckle frogs,” “If he goes,” “Tooty ta,” “Head shoulders,” “Abc’s”, etc.
We need to entertain for another 20 minutes. The smell of onion permeates the room. I begin to cough, my eyes water as we make up new jingles.
Time for writing letters, then I hear; “Didi, you tell story?” “You translate, I ask?” I tell a version of Goldilocks’ and then Hannah talks about Jonah. I always wonder how much is lost in translation.
By now there are at least 50 kids, the room is packed. We line everyone up to wash hands and sit in rows for lunch. We pass out plates and feed children, they ask for seconds, and we fill their plates. The room empties out and more kids pour in we serve at least 100 kids, there is plenty of food.
Today is a special day; we are going to celebrate Christmas. We walk arm and arm with kids and parents. Everyone is so excited. We arrive around 4, this is the first of its kind and we have been asked to serve along side our host. 250 people fill a grassy space. It is a sea of colors. The sun begins to set, the green grass is illuminated and the wind blows. We play Christmas music and sing worship songs. We worship a God who is alive. We cry out to the Lord to captivate the hearts in the seas. I pray Lord let them experience a living God, not a lifeless God, let them worship the creator not creation.
I give the sermon. I talked about love.
We serve dinner and each family receives 6 stainless steal cups for their family, a plum cake, and new outfit for their child.
Today was a special day; today was not your typical Tuesday.
