hello july.

drying the children's laundry. I think it is one of the most beautiful things I've seen in India.

7th grade girls.

Shrimathi & me. she's one of my 8th graders and I love her to death.

Chetan and Bharat playing marbles during P.T.

Kusuma. she's adorable, no?

when Melissa and I saw that sign I thought I would die. the best homecoming I could have wanted.

3rd + 4th graders eating mangoes. that's my Shilpa on the right.

although I am missing the days when I could hop on my macbook and document every last thought with cyber space, I am cherishing the moments I have here--trying to sum up all the happiness I have felt in nearly every moment I live through at Shanti Bhavan.

I feel a certain obligation to travel throughout India. even all of Asia. it would be so easy for me to hop on a plane to Cambodia or to take a train to Nepal. which I want to do. but leaving the kids is so hard, and I have found my weekends in Bangalore are too long and too far from my 4th grade Social Studies, reading Where the Red Fern Grows. and too far from my 12th graders--searching for the purpose of life while editing their college application essays. so the need to travel, or the social obligation I am putting on myself to say I've seen the Taj Mahal or been to Amritsar, is subsiding.

wandering through the 'upstairs' library a few times a week has become quite serendipitous for me. I find that I am drawn to the most random books. I check the book out, feeling it is my destiny to read it, only to check it back in the next day. a few books I have held on to, one of which is called The Importance of Living by Yin Lutang. it is mostly about savoring the moment. he talks about 33 moments of happiness--how overall happiness in life comes from the cumulation of small things. my mind has been soaking in this idea for about 2 weeks now. and I have come to feel the love of God through the small, infinitessemal things. the things I am attempting to share with you--though it is impossible to convey what they mean to me. and it is even more unlikely that I will be able to enumerate every one.

7:00 a.m.
I wake up to the sounds of Melissa reading or writing in her journal. kind as she is, she goes into the lounge to study so as to not wake me. I have been dreaming of airplanes lately. every dream is something different, but airplanes are always present. interpretation anyone? I wash my face and brush my teeth in the shower because our sink drain sends out a rancid smell each time we turn it on. I dress and pull my hair back. headband always. a little reading, perhaps a little writing, a prayer. I walk up the stairs and on the path to the dining hall, breeze on my face, children laughing and saying "good morning, Miss!" ah, is this not happiness?

7:45 a.m.
breakfast. I will miss the food tremendously when I leave here. each morning breakfast is a sort of pancake or mushy rice stuff. note to self: write the funny names of foods down. served with the pancakes is usually a cocunut sauce, spicy and delicious. it reminds me of, but is in no way like, Eggs Mornay, a dish Mom made once from a bed & breakfast. I've learned to eat pleasantly with my hands. (in Bangalore 2 weeks ago, we dined at Sunny's. a popular spot for tourists and ex-pats because they serve western food. that morning at Shanti Bhavan, I ate mushy rice with my hands. there at Sunny's, I order pizza and eat with a fork. ah, is this not happiness?)

8:00 a.m.
violin lessons with Pushpa. she's been practicing on her own, with no teacher, for 2 years. I'm beeming with pride as she learns the Indian national anthem. she's learning well but 25 minutes is hardly enough time to remember everything I know about teaching violin. I wish I'd brought more materials, and picked Bonnie's brain for ideas. luckily, Summer has arrived, who graduated from Juliard in cello performance. the kids have taken an interest in cello-playing and that is a blessing to me.

8:30 a.m.
first period. always first period with my 8th grade. they are smart, but lazy. they get me side-tracked easily. we are reading The Odyssey. oi vei. I've never read it--how am I supposed to be teaching it. what a nightmare. but they are good sports and we are doing just fine. the summaries they must write for each chapter should be helping.

11:05 a.m.
assembly. assembly was the first time I cried, first time I got chills on my first day at Shanti Bhavan. it is a beautiful experience. the staff prayer is said, something I'll have to include another time. the kids say a beautiful prayer, blessing their families, teachers, house mothers, and everyone. praying for the guidance to do what is right and value what is good. their little voices get me every time. then they sing the school song. ...I might be an astronaut, I might be a musician... and so on. you can imagine. their little eyes wander--they know the words so well but their minds are somewhere else. I catch Rajesh's eye (3rd grade mennace but the boniest and cutest little guy--I swear he has the sense of humor of a 25-year-old bachelor). he smiles and remembers what he is doing. ah, is this not happiness?

12:50 p.m.
lunch. if I'm lucky, it's chipatti and a spicy curry. again, I am eating with my hands. as Mysterious Girl comes over the loud speaker I am bouncing my shoulders. the kids look at me like I'm crazy but they are laughing. they should dance more, I think and keep dipping my fingers and tortilla-like bread into a chick-pea curry. ah, is this not happiness?

1:20 p.m. - 3:35 p.m.
school as usual. Indian civics isn't the easiest to teach. teaching is a hard feat in itself, add teaching kids in a foreign country, plus teaching a subject you are learning yourself. and there you go. no time to tell of each grade or each child. but later, I promise.

4:30 p.m.
P.T. or-- Physical Training, commonly known as Play Time because the younger kids just run around, play with dirt, rocks, plants, berries, etc. I tauhgt 4th grade Shilpa to squeeze my hands 3 times to silently tell the person whose hand your holding "I. love. you." they should then squeeze back 4 times: "I. love. you. too." I taught her in a flurry of commotion last week. I didn't expect her to remember. but as all kids do, she did. she ran up from behind me, grabbed my hand and squeezed 3 times: "I. love. you." I squeezed back 4. I looked down at her and her big sparkling eyes were looking at me, holding back a smile. ah, is this not happiness?

6:30 p.m.
on Thursday's, we meet with Dr. George, the founder. he is so personable to the kids and he truly loves them and is giving his best for them. I read Rainbow Fish the other day, and it reminded me of Dr. George--in the start such a sparkly fish but has found happiness through giving every sparkling fin away. the kids adore him. and the 7th grade - 12th grade listen as he explains Indo-Russian relations throughout the Cold War, and tells them of the tailoring project he is working on in a nearby village. he asks the kids if they know what the Constitution is. I cringe. none of my 7th and 8th graders know. ah, is this not happiness?

7:30 p.m.
a late and spicy dinner. this is the only meal we are allowed to sit with the kids. they talk and talk and talk and by 8:00 p.m. they haven't eaten a bite. their house mothers look at us but don't say anything, yelling instead at the kids. occassionally I can get some gossp out of the older girls--do they think any of the boys are cute? who have they ever had a crush on? usually all I get is Zac Efron. the younger kids though, they all have games to play during meals. it's a freezing game, or a no blinking game, or a guessing game, or telephone games. they are so cute. last night, I asked 4th grade Vishwasagar if he was going to join choir when he got to 5th grade. he said he didn't know, and I said I thought he should. "Miss," he looked at me. "We don't know the future." ah, is this not happiness?

10:00 p.m.
if I'm lucky, I get to bed.the thin mattress doesn't bother me. I pray and thank God for this opportunity. wondering why me? asking for guidance. asking Him to make up for my weaknesses in their education, and in their lives. ah, is this not happiness?

I can't believe my time is halfway over here. I can't believe I'm here. will I ever stop crying during the beautiful choir songs in Tamil? will I ever get over the honking in the streets? or the colors of the saaris the women are wearing? will I ever recover from these moments of happiness? I hope not.