Roots
I started out this week teaching at a new school. But after the unexpected flight of a fellow volunteer, I was moved back to Mojanda, the school where I sprouted my roots. This time, however, I would be teaching a new subject: math.
Now some of my closest followers may be doubtful of my mathematical abilities, but the last two days have been smooth and pleasant. Not that teaching is ever a piece of cake, but it’s really nice to discover that you might have an ability that actually translates into a marketable skill. As much as I hate to toot my own horn, I think teaching comes naturally to me. Though I generally leave every class more or less exhausted, I also leave feeling like I”ve done something good.
Yesterday right before we left Mojanda, something happened that made my day. While I’m used to kids soliciting hand shakes in the respectful and adorable way that they do, I got an extra surprise yesterday. One of my students came up to me in the usual fashion after class ended, and extended her hand for the custom shakeroo. But instead of stopping there, when we let go of each other’s hands, without warning this girl wrapped her arms around my hips (she wasn’t tall enough to reach my back or stomach) and gave me a big, warm squeeze. The unexpected sign of affection was almost enough to make me forget that none of my students jumped out of their seats when I walked into the classroom and said, “I’m baaaaack!”
Though I did get a chuckle or two when I wrote on the board, “Teacher Amber has returned,” the general non-challance over my homecoming was a bit disconcerting. But after a hard day’s work and a generous hug to top it off, I said to myself, “This is why I come to school.”
