Teacher? Were You Talking to Me??

Here is the second post about what it is I'm doing here and about various happenings.


  My first week, as I said, was pretty hard for me. Adjusting took a while. From he very first, I had to remember that when someone called, "Teacher!" there was a chance they were talking to me. Pretty much all the white people around here are called "teacher" or "thara, tharamu" (Karen for male and female teachers) by all the students. It was kind of weird to be called "teacher" when I didn't feel like one at all.
  I went to class I think it was the second day I was here. All I did was sit there and watch and listen as dark-haired children speaking a strange language learned some words of my native tongue. I felt awkward and uncomfortable as they frequently turned on their benches to stare at the new gullawah (a white person in Karen). I inwardly sighed and wondered if I would ever adjust... If I would ever really enjoy being here. I certainly didn't feel like it right then. 
  My duty here is to kind of co-teach grades KGA, 1st, and 2nd grade, which is equal to U.S. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grade, and also supervise a typing class. The kids in KGA, 1, and 2 are anywhere from 6-15 years old I believe. For this part of my day, I sit in the back and let Naw Suh Pweh do most of the teaching. She asks me to do various things, such as teaching the kids a song, teaching them phonics (a says__, b says__, etc.), draw pictures on the blackboard for vocab words, how to pronounce a certain word, what time it is, etc. For typing class, I give the students their papers where they keep track of their progress, then wait until the 40 minutes is over and collect their papers. This is fun because I get to interact with some older students. They are quite amusing sometimes. :-)
  I also am the recipient of many flowers. I frequently go from class to class with a handful, a hairful, or a flower or two behind my ear(s). The kids are so sweet. They have warmed my heart more than once with their affection and smiles. I think I have smiled more times in the last three and a half weeks of being here than I have in a couple months combined. Some return your smiles with a shy smile and then look away, others flash a grin as big as they can. The mischievous grins just make you shake your head and smile right back.   
  Where I once regretted coming here, wishing with all my heart to go back home where I am in my comfort zone, I now thank God for providing the way for me to come. Those moments when a small hand slips into yours and the dark eyes look at you so happily, those times when two thin arms wrap around your legs and a grinning face beams up at you, those days when you walk back to your hut with a handful of flowers; those are the times that make it all worth it. The dirt, the geckos, the rats, the bugs, the ants, the long nights and weary days suddenly don't matter any more. You learn to be content, even happy, where you are; where God has put you. You remember why you came in the first place; not for you, but for these precious children of God. To make a difference in the life of perhaps just one. No matter how many you help to lead to Christ, it doesn't matter. It is worth it all for even just one.
 This is what I do Monday-Friday. On Sabbath we have church and Sabbath School, in that order, and then relax in the afternoon. Sunday we do various things, like going into town or washing laundry. One Sunday we went on a hike up to a pagoda. That was a _very_ steep walk! I thought I might not make it all the way. God sustained me though, and it was fun, despite getting soaked from rain and slipping numerous times on the way down.
  So, this is my life here. I am liking it more and more as the days go by. By God's grace I will make it through, and I know I will grow so much.