It is
evening, it is raining outside, the afternoon sky was beautiful, the kind of
sky that draws me in, makes me feel faraway places are near, makes me feel like
the sky is someone.
I have been hard at work with preparations for class, but with CNN on in the background of my room. Stories pour into my room from around the world. I heard about a young schoolgirl that was shot by rebels for wanting to get an education, the American elections around the corner and always, always it seems the war in Syria.
I found a book, I read from it a few pages at night just before bed, called 'A thousand splendid suns', that made the Middle East come alive with stories of people who lived there, who somehow survived the terrible things that happened there. Now when hearing the news stories happening there, it has become a very personal experience, knowing there are people, there, each with families, dreams, stories of their own, living with perpetual fear and terror. It reminds me of how I felt, as a little girl, inside a dream I had, of war, where I lived, that there were landmines in my garden, so that I could never go outside again to play, but upon waking I did not see planes cirling the sky, smoke billowing from buildings out my window, I felt relieved, for a moment but knew that there were places where this is real, not just a dream. I found an article about a Montessori orphanage in Afghanistan. It is called the House of Flowers. Such a beautiful name for a school. They have a school for children 3 -18 years. I wrote them a small note by email, sending them my wishes of peace.
My days are filled with the presence of children that I feel I have come to know well by now. We do exercise together in the morning, we study together, we eat together. We have built up trust amongst ourselves, it feels comfortable and natural to be together, in our bright, spacious classroom. They are affectionate, funny and warm. I do like all of them very much. I do love seeing them discover their abilities, their voices, their worlds, their experiences, I do feel priviledged ...
I may have found a studio apartment in beautiful neighbourhood, not far from my school. It is very homely, one big room, divided in areas, with a kitchenette, a lounge, a bedroom. It is furnished. It has big windows and reminds me of my classroom. There is a small path leading one there, through an alleyway, that spreads out into a beautiful homely neighbourhood, with dogs, cats, children, running about, candlelight from buddhist prayer alters glowing from the windows, houses with small fenced off gardens. I loved discovering a whole world there.
I feel the way I felt in my first year teaching very young children in Saigon, having introduced them to shapes, colours, patterns, those very things, became very vivid in my own experiences, seeing things as if for the first time, like the patterns on the paving of sidewalks, the colours around me, that I did not notice around me before. The world outside became a classroom for me, I followed those things that captured my interest and discovered yet a bigger picture with even more detail to explore, on and on, it seemed the world contained worlds. My classroom, my room, really a universe .. I become slightly anxious about not having enough time in a day, hours stolen from the night, to follow another link, no, just one more link, before it is time to sleep :)
I have been hard at work with preparations for class, but with CNN on in the background of my room. Stories pour into my room from around the world. I heard about a young schoolgirl that was shot by rebels for wanting to get an education, the American elections around the corner and always, always it seems the war in Syria.
I found a book, I read from it a few pages at night just before bed, called 'A thousand splendid suns', that made the Middle East come alive with stories of people who lived there, who somehow survived the terrible things that happened there. Now when hearing the news stories happening there, it has become a very personal experience, knowing there are people, there, each with families, dreams, stories of their own, living with perpetual fear and terror. It reminds me of how I felt, as a little girl, inside a dream I had, of war, where I lived, that there were landmines in my garden, so that I could never go outside again to play, but upon waking I did not see planes cirling the sky, smoke billowing from buildings out my window, I felt relieved, for a moment but knew that there were places where this is real, not just a dream. I found an article about a Montessori orphanage in Afghanistan. It is called the House of Flowers. Such a beautiful name for a school. They have a school for children 3 -18 years. I wrote them a small note by email, sending them my wishes of peace.
My days are filled with the presence of children that I feel I have come to know well by now. We do exercise together in the morning, we study together, we eat together. We have built up trust amongst ourselves, it feels comfortable and natural to be together, in our bright, spacious classroom. They are affectionate, funny and warm. I do like all of them very much. I do love seeing them discover their abilities, their voices, their worlds, their experiences, I do feel priviledged ...
I may have found a studio apartment in beautiful neighbourhood, not far from my school. It is very homely, one big room, divided in areas, with a kitchenette, a lounge, a bedroom. It is furnished. It has big windows and reminds me of my classroom. There is a small path leading one there, through an alleyway, that spreads out into a beautiful homely neighbourhood, with dogs, cats, children, running about, candlelight from buddhist prayer alters glowing from the windows, houses with small fenced off gardens. I loved discovering a whole world there.
I feel the way I felt in my first year teaching very young children in Saigon, having introduced them to shapes, colours, patterns, those very things, became very vivid in my own experiences, seeing things as if for the first time, like the patterns on the paving of sidewalks, the colours around me, that I did not notice around me before. The world outside became a classroom for me, I followed those things that captured my interest and discovered yet a bigger picture with even more detail to explore, on and on, it seemed the world contained worlds. My classroom, my room, really a universe .. I become slightly anxious about not having enough time in a day, hours stolen from the night, to follow another link, no, just one more link, before it is time to sleep :)
But I feel grounded here somehow, not flutterings of thoughts and sensations,
but slow and vivid experiences.
I like imagining Maria opening a door with a hidden smile, knowing how I love exploring, whispering my name to come out to her, saying:" I would like to show you something, would you like to come with me?", and then letting me out into the worlds as she also knew it.
I like imagining Maria opening a door with a hidden smile, knowing how I love exploring, whispering my name to come out to her, saying:" I would like to show you something, would you like to come with me?", and then letting me out into the worlds as she also knew it.
