Poverty

Three weeks ago, I was teaching in a shed on a mountain somewhere in northern Thailand.  A ridged metal sheet was our roof, and chicken wire over some wooden beams made up the side wall that you didn't want to lean on too hard.  30 little kids stared up at me like nothing else mattered, and wrote down every single word I put up on that board.  These kids are third generation Chinese that fled to Thailand at the same time the Taiwanese settled on their island.  The difference is, the Thai Chinese came to a country that was already settled - so they aren't eligible for passports, making it legally impossible for them to leave the country.   These little kids go to school for seven days a week.  Chinese school, and Thai school.  They can usually speak three languages, and I wonder - what is this accomplishment for?  Why do they work so hard when they have so little chance of being able to use the education they rigorously pursue? 

We've traveled hours in the bed of a rickety pickup truck to get to these mountain schools...we're served green tea in the principal's office, which consists of a wooden table in a concrete room and a bookshelf on the far wall.  At another school the principal serves us carrots from his own garden.  We give out cookies at one school where there are only sixteen students - one of them is a baby held by a young girl.  As we drink even more of the tea that has become so familiar, the aged principal tells us slowly in Chinese, "You are the first Americans ever to come here...thank you..."  I wonder if I know a tiny bit what David Livingston felt like as he was seeing Africa for the first time.

Every where we travel are these thatched roof huts that I've only ever seen pictures of in charity books.  I've heard stories about little kids going barefoot to school...but now I know they do because I've watched them trek into the schoolyard.  I've dreamed of being able to make the tiniest bit of difference to these kids, and from what they tell me themselves...I've succeeded...and been left only with the prayer that now I'll be able to do more.

Camping...

The campfire story was a little scary for my taste, but the smores definitely were compensation - and a new concept for all the little kids who were roasting marshmallows.  I don't remember a time when I didn't know what a smore was.  They concentrate intently on the composition and consumption, and overall, the concensus is that 'It's good!"  As we trek back to the camp, I grab one of the little girls and run her across the field to the tents.  She squeals at the toad I find jumping around in the grass. 11:30 finds me huddled in a pup-tent in a school sports field with my little students.  We're still playing cards...curfew was an hour and a half ago, but they don't want to go to sleep.  "It's the last night of camp," one girl told me..."we want to have fun!" So we keep playing and color check our UNO cards with my cell phone light every few seconds.  We finally go to sleep when the other tent protests at all the noise we are making.  I blame my co-teacher Jo for starting the sleeping bag war! :D When we wake up the next morning, we all take turn laughing at each others hair, and then roll up our blankets to go brush our teeth.  After the final performances, we walk the kids back to their bus.  It's been four days since camp started and we've been together 24/7.  I was there to pick them up at the train station and I waved good-bye as their bus drove away.  I've made grilled PB-and-J and pizza with all of them, and played 'Heart Attack' more times than I can count.  

Psalm 4:7a says "Thou hast put gladness in my heart..." I think that I got an extra helping of happiness this week and the best part is...we have a whole other camp starting tomorrow...as my students would say: "Sweet dream!"