A God among Mortals

In my second grade class, my kids are each members of one of the "Groups of Doom" - the Zombies, Robots, Dinosaurs, and Pirates.  I would have enjoyed "Harbingers of the Apocalypse" more, but three-syllable words are still something of a challenge for them.

Today my group leaders were in class during break to help set things up.  As I wrote the warm-up on the board, I heard a loud smacking sound behind me.  I turn to see one of the boys crouched in a post-cartwheel landing position on the ground, a huge grin spread across his face.  Seeing that I was clearly pleased, the other boys took their turns showing off their mad cartwheeling skills.  I nodded in approval at each attempt.

After the three boys had each shown off their talents, I waved them to the side, opening the clearing in the front of the room for myself.  I took off my scarf and put it on the table, and tied up my cardigan so it wouldn't get hung up on anything.  The boys' eyes went wide.

I executed a perfect front handspring, complete with arms, hands, and legs in finishing position.  I turned back to the boys, whose jaws were all dropped.

"Alright.  Off to break, boys."

They hurried out of the class in a pack, frantically whispering to one another in Arabic as they scurried out the door.

I imagine word of my feat spread over the break field like wildfire.  By the fifth retelling, I'm sure I jumped ten feet in the air and flipped 17 times.

I swear, teaching little kids is like being a god among mortals.

Getting settled and fluffy cuteness

Hey, all.  I’m back.

I’d been holding off on any more updates until I had something solid to give you guys.  After a month of utter uncertainty as to the future of our school here, things have finally settled down.  We have a physical school in which to hold classes, and things should be back to normal in no time.  As normal as it gets, anyhow.

Furry highlights of the first month:

THE BUNNY

One evening while we were celebrating the birthday of a newly arrived staff member, I began getting calls via other people’s cell phones informing me that our regular taxi driver was trying to find me.  I had forgotten my phone at home.  

Finally the driver  himself reached me (via someone else’s phone).  

“Kelly, I need to see you.  Just one minute.   Two minutes.”

“Umm, is there a problem?”

“No, no problem.  Just see you and go.”  (We’ve agreed that on even days we speak only English and on odd days we speak only Arabic, in order to facilitate mutual language learning.  This was an even day.)

I try to imagine what offense could possibly have been committed by one of our staff members to have him looking for me all over Nablus.  I start running through the list in my head of who was missing from the gathering I was currently attending.  I grab Sean and we head upstairs.  

When we get up there, we see the driver parked across the street.  He spots us and quickly takes one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it down and going to the trunk of his car.  Opening it, he carefully pulls out a cardboard box and walks happily towards us.  

“Hello, Kelly.  Hello, Sean.”

“Hey there… what’s this?” 

The box has a red bow on top.  He hands it to me, carefully.  I notice that there are holes poked in the top of the box as well.

“It is… how do you say it… present?  Hadiya?  Present, yes?”

“What?  Yes, that’s the word…”

“Carefully, carefully,” he cautions, as I excitedly try to open it.  Sean looks confused. 

“It’s an animal, Sean, he got me a pet!”

I open the box and slowly tilt it down, and a white ball of fluff slides out.  I tenderly lift it from the box.

“IT’S A BUNNY!  THANK YOU SO MUCH!”  The baby rabbit looked almost identical to the baby bunny who was put in my care last year by a negligent first grader.  This man had picked Helen and me up after we buried that bunny one morning, and knew how sad I was at the loss.    I later found out that he had searched for ten days to find a bunny who met the exact specifications of that last, late bunny.  “White, with red eyes, small, but do not need the mother milk,” he later told some of my co-workers.

“You’re welcome.  Bye!”

He runs back to his car and takes off. 

We named her Salma after the school secretary.  It seemed only fitting, as my last bunny, Nourmeen, had been named after another teacher.  That night I happened to be wearing one of Nourmeen’s favorite scarves, and Salma quickly took to home in my scarf secured around my neck, napping in her little bunny sling. 

When we got home, I set her up in the hutch built last year for the host of bunnies taken on by the English staff, which I had brought into my room upon arrival thinking that Nourmeen would live there.  (Nourmeen was not the white rabbit of last year – she was my bunny, and was left in the care of another teacher over the summer.  She now lives in a nearby village on a farm… or so I’m told.)

Unfortunately, little Salma was only with us a few short weeks.  I’m not sure what did her in.  She lived a happy life with us in the short time that we had, and she brought us, and many kids, a great deal of joy.  She will be missed.

THE DOG

Soon after Salma’s passing, Sean discovered a lil pup.  This post’s already long enough, so I won’t go into detail… but he’s super cute and now living with one of our co-workers.  He was discovered on the birthday of one of last year’s teachers, and in his honor, we named the dog after him.  

This is all of the old staff members wearing clothes left by Delphino, the man, in a pyramid above Delphino, the pup.