You’ll
forgive me for not blogging more. You understand we are very busy. You’ll agree
that you are, too. Perhaps you’ll agree that life is so fast you seem to blink
away the days. And yet, here, at least, the days are so full we seem to live three
days in one, all the while blinking it away.
Typically
I get up at 6, when the sun is coming up. I fold aside the mosquito net that
protects me after fan cuts off, and look out the window to see what colors the
sun is painting.
Typically
I trot downstairs with flashlight handy to get the coffee going in the
stove-top percolator. Then I head up to the roof to spend some quiet time with
God while the sun rises and the world stirs.
By 7:30
we’re supposed to be at school or at least on the way. The past week we’ve been
departing about 6:45, but in our defense we’ve had guests. And a few days last
week there were two nebulizer treatments to give at 7. Oh, and remember, all
times are Haitian. Haitian 7:00 runs anywhere from 6:45 to 7:45.
Once at
school, which involves the short commute around motos, venders, dogs, chickens,
wheelbarrows, papadap vans, floods of students in multi-colored uniforms, half-dressed
women toting water, bicycles, and speed bumps, there is the barrage of
students. We ooze through the clinging hands and clutching bodies, everyone
eager for hugs and greetings. Up the steps, down the hall, unlock the office,
set down the day’s supplies, which include daily teaching materials and the
rotating assortment of medicine, pencils, toilet paper, crackers, peanut
butter, and student gifts. Then grab the flags and song packets and back down
the hall for teacher devotion.
Inside
the first grade classroom the staff gather, minus the security guard and
custodian who stay outside to manage children. And we sing. Every day another
teacher directs us to a song, English and French or Creole, we pray, we recite
a scripture, English and French, and then greet one another with kisses and
joy.
Then it’s
time for the children.
School
runs from 8 to 1 for the three younger grades, and 8 to 2 PM for the elementary
grades. My own schedule starts second grade full class English at 9 Tuesday,
Thursday, and Friday, heading to third grade at 10:30. I have a break from
11:30 to 12:30 which is usually filled with maintenance (filling water buckets
or washing dishes), visiting other classes (particularly Preschool 1 with the
three year olds), eating, doing office work (organizing, dispensing medicine, stapling
torn books), and actually lesson-planning (which is what the break is intended
for.) Last week that time included catching up with Beverly, who was in and out
to the hospital, and checking in on our teenage visitor.
Today
is Wednesday, so there was Bible assembly at 9. As Beverly is not here and
Madame Rose arrived late, I directed opening assembly outside, partnered with
Madame Alice, our second grade teacher. We sang, prayed, and saluted the
Haitian and Christian flags. Then I stood at the doorway to each class to greet
each child individually. This is always one of my favorite pastimes, beginning
with the three year olds who compete as to who can respond “Good morning!” the
loudest in their pipsqueak voices, to the third grade, many of whom are as tall
as my chest already. Sandrina in kindergarten likes to say, “I am happy to see
you, too!” whether I’ve said this or not, while tiny Marie Fine in first grade
says, “Jesus loves you, too, Madame Rachelle!”
Once
all students were in class, the troubled group and I prayed in the office. This
group of second graders has been struggling with obedience and for the past
several days begins the day by praying in the office for Jesus to change their
hearts.
“We’re
going to have a good day today, yes?” I asked them this morning. “No dezod? No
misbehaving?”
They
all agreed. We prayed. I hugged each one and told them to have a good day, then
sent them on their way.
Two
students had “bouton,” infected bumps, that needed antibiotic ointment. Ismael
had a suspicious one on his ear that made me nervous. Yuck. Four year old
Roodna had several on her scalp. Then our dear little Munley needed his
treatment.
Last
week Munley came to school with dreadful burns on his calves—a common injury
from a moto muffler. Munley is three, extremely intelligent, somewhat stubborn,
and irresistibly adorable. Like many Haitian children, he is nearly impervious
to pain. He had to go to the hospital to have the burns scraped and treated,
along with a burn on his toe. The latter has since become infected, and must be
soaked in salt water each morning.
Madame
Rose brought him in, put water in the tub, and Munley took off his sandal,
scooted to the very edge of the bench and stuck his wee foot in the water. I bustled
about organizing papers, sharpening pencils, and writing the week’s Bible
vocabulary on a poster for 9:00 assembly. Once as I passed Munley grabbed my
arm and pulled it to his face. I remembered just how tiny he is. A mere baby,
expected to endure suffering in silence.
After
the soak we wrapped his foot in gauze and Rose stuffed it back into his sandal.
Munley watched this while continuing to calmly eat his crackers. He made no
noise as his nerves surely screamed.
Munley
went back to class with Rose and I shaking our heads after him. Assembly began
at 9 with singing, the kindergarten to third grade classes filing in and
arranging themselves on the floor of the Recreation Room. We sang “I’m in the
Lord’s Army” and “Jesus Loves Me,” in English and Creole. Then Rose and I
taught the vocabulary and lesson about Samson, who was deceived by someone he
loved. In the midst of this our friends Emory, Mary, and Amos dropped by on
their way to Port au Prince. Assembly wrapped up, students swarmed back to
class, and I gathered up my things to begin second grade English. We are
working hard on Stop, Think, Answer, and phonics. Critical thinking is not a
regular part of Haitian curriculum, which relies almost solely upon rote
memorization.
Class
went passably well. I love them dearly, but second grade is a mess.
Third
grade is practicing past tense and beginning creative writing. Today we talked
about what we did yesterday, a holiday, and reviewed their homework. Their love
of learning is obvious in their rapid ability to learn new concepts. Some of us
practiced spelling with the game Sparkle while those who’d not done their
homework copied sentences off the board. As usual, I dismissed students by name
to wash their hands and collect lunch; some stayed to finish up their work. All
were done by 11:40 and my “break” arrived.
Today
my office duties included stapling torn books, administering fever medicine to
a four year old, organizing English class papers for Rose, and neatening up the
library, while eating peanut butter crackers. Oh, and of course I popped in to
see the three year olds.
At
12:30 I collect a small group of third graders and we go to the library. This
week we have been writing and drawing pictures about the books they brought
home last week. Once a week these students can “check-out” books from our
library by writing name and book title on a highly technical piece of lined
paper. They each read to me and answer some questions. I send them back to
class at 1 with a new book, and collect a larger, rowdier group of second graders.
Last week and this week a day has been missed so I’ve put two groups together…and
inevitably sent at least one student back to class for lack of cooperation.
Small group is a privilege organized by ability level. Misbehavior revokes the
privilege.
At 1:30
my schedule is finished. Usually that means at 1:40 the students are gone and I’m
left alone in the library. Sometimes I stay to straighten up. Sometimes I set
on the bench and lesson plan. Sometimes I head downstairs at once to do office
work or check in with Beverly’s first grade English class, or just play with
the kids outside. Those kindergarten and preschool students not yet picked up
play outside in the courtyard and love to have company.
Today I
went straight to first grade to assist Madame Rose and Madame Samanne who are
running English class without Beverly. Beverly is gone to Texas for a bit
following her mother’s death. We expect her back soon, but in the meantime do
our best without her. Our school is certainly accustomed to doing without.
Haiti is, too.
School
ends for all at 2:00. There’s always a mad rush initially, and then students
left awaiting parents or moto taxis. Today we had a tardy six. The taxi for
four arrived at 2:35 and the taxi for two did not arrive. We left school with
light rain at 2:50, piling the two leftover students and two intentional
students into the backseat, Rose riding shotgun, and stopped for gas one block
down. When we reached our street the taxi was waiting.
“Moto
gen pwoblem,” the chauffer explained through the window as I stopped the car. “The
moto has a problem. That’s why I was late. Exkise m’, sivouple.” Rose and I
nodded our acceptance of his apology. We know this driver and he’s not usually
a problem. Kingsaida and Marvens scooted out of the car, clambered onto the
moto, and they were off.
That left
the four of us to roll down the road, all pitted by the daily rain, and pull up
to the gate. Saintilus hopped out to open it, as usual, and we got out of the
car to the pleasant Ti Gôave afternoon sun and humidity. Always breathtaking.
We had
electricity, an afternoon privilege courtesy of the soccer broadcast, so I got
Adeline started on the nebulizer right away. Adeline is eight years old,
diagnosed as severely asthmatic, and lives in an environment conducive to never
improving. Generous folks donated nebulizers, and now Adeline can come home
with us when she needs treatment, rather than waiting at the hospital.
After
about 15 minutes, during which I kept prodding her awake with a stroke on her
cheek, the medicine finished and we could eat. Rice and beans and fish. The
table was quiet today without our guests, Beverly, or the house sons. Once we’d
finished, I got my purse and Adeline her backpack and Alixthon, a cousin of
Pastor’s with good English, joined us to go to the copy shop.
We
collected our copies, paid the bill at 2 gourdes per sheet (63 gourdes to a
U.S. dollar), and then dropped Adeline off at the house where her mama works. Rubbing
my forehead for the nasty throbbing there, I drove us home, Alixthon directing me
unnecessarily with exaggerated gestures.
At 4:15
we arrived home and I went upstairs. I got out of my beautiful, not incredibly
comfortable uniform and fell down on my bed, sunburn itching back and
shoulders. The fan was still on when I woke up groggy two hours later.
I don’t
always take such luxurious naps after school. But I think I always need them. Now
the sun is nearly set at 7:30 and I’ve done no preparation for school. I did
collect my laundry off the roof, which I washed by hand yesterday afternoon
before going to evening service at church. I do have the copies ready for
English homework tomorrow and I am looking forward to hearing the kids’
progress. I refuse to think beyond that, for my heart is sad at Beverly’s
absence and our guests’ departure. To consider a whole week without my other
half, our amazing American director, her silliness, her joyful singing, her
laugh, her hugs, our adventures, early morning and late night visits in her
room—that is too much.
And so,
as Rose and I agreed this morning, we simply go step by step, moment by moment
if we must. The phrase “every hour I need you” falls short—every moment we rely
on Jesus, every moment we ask for help. For the three year olds with infected
burns and no one competent in basic first aid at home. For the kindergarten student
who’s hungry but plagued by cavities and doesn’t want to eat, which may be just
as well for Papa can’t afford to buy food. For the undiagnosed maladies, the
unpaid debts, for all the mourning parents who don’t find their child’s name on
the list of new students. Instead, we focus moment by moment, step by step.
Today
is almost finished. I think it’s early to bed for me. So the next step is to
fold that laundry and put it away. You’ll forgive me for not writing more. Some
days it’s more than I can do to lesson plan and neaten my room. Whatever I do,
may it be in love. Step by loving step.
“Lord,
I come, I confess
Bowing here I find my rest
Without You I fall apart
You're the One that guides my heart
Chorus:
Lord, I
need You, oh, I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You
Where
sin runs deep Your grace is more
Where grace is found is where You are
Where You are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me
Chorus
So
teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
When I cannot stand I'll fall on You
Jesus, You're my hope and stay” – Matt Maher “Lord, I Need You”
“1. I need thee ev’ry hour,
Most gracious Lord.
No tender voice like
thine
Can peace afford.
Chorus: I need thee, oh,
I need thee;
Ev’ry hour I need thee!
Oh, bless me now, my Savior;
I come to thee!
2. I need thee ev’ry hour;
Stay thou nearby.
Temptations lose their
pow’r
When thou art nigh.
3. I need thee ev’ry hour,
In joy or pain.
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.
4. I need thee ev’ry hour,
Most holy One.
Oh, make me thine indeed,
Thou blessed Son!” –
Annie S. Hawks “I Need Thee Ev’ry Hour”
