Beware the Ides of March March 15, 2007

I’ve rebounded today; most of us, in fact, are feeling better. By now, our breakfast waitress knows what we want, that we’re ravenous for cereal and cold milk, which I suspect is cream. Today is a full day with babies in the morning and students in the afternoon.

The babies are, by some miracle, sleeping when I arrive. I tiptoe in to make sure they stay that way. But tranquility is fleeting and they wake up, one by one, in fits of crying. The plates are spinning out of control. Like the babies, I’m coughing now and I think of the germs as tiny gifts that I will bring home as a reminder of my time here.

Lunch at Qubba is a fish skewer, fish entree (with the mandatory rice and potatoes), and chocolate pie. We’re getting to the point where we think about declining dessert. Tomorrow, maybe.

Though we have one more day left with the babies, today is our last day of teaching the fourth grade girls. When we tell the kids, they revolt, clinging to us and mock crying. High drama all around. Today we review the numbers in English, a tough task for some of the kids, easy for others. We attempt to maintain order by having a volunteer come up to the (new white) board (aka, the one that can’t topple a small child), and write each number in English. This lasts until the number two, when the kids suddenly rush the board demanding a turn. Fine, everyone write a number. You win!

Coloring again saves the day and Kathleen and I are soon inundated with handmade cards thanking us (Katalina and Yacuelina) for “teaching” them. We have to peel them off our bodies when it’s time to go; somewhere in the chaos, someone draws a heart tattoo on my arm. We leave, hair mussed, frazzled, and laughing.

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