It’s Thursday afternoon- I’m at the American Club having a late lunch with friends. Jenny (my new roommie), Josh, Allie and Kim have been laughing for practically an hour now. School is over for the week, next week is “Book Week” and the week after is mid-semester break. Our conversation has wandered from the “Great Balls of Fire” song to placenta jerky. Our sides are splitting.
I love that I can look up from the table and see all familiar faces: Young Grace parents, other teachers, my pastor’s family and sweaty kids running around. Soon, one of my students pulls up a chair to the table next to mine to eat pizza thats “too cheesy” and french fries. Soon after that, another one of my students hustles up to his table. I have to pull off my headphones to answer, “Miss. Schroeder?”
“Yes sir?”
“Did my brother pass out today?” The first says, with a look of wanting to prove this information with an adult to his Indian comrade.
“Yes. He passed out, threw up, and then went home.”
“See? He’s okay though.”
This is the same student who was quoted this morning saying, “And then Miss. Schroeder tripped on my face” to his Year 3 teacher (my now good friend Kim). This was the explanation she got in the bus ride home from Sport time at the French School’s big, green field about our full-speed collision playing Capture the Flag. So epic. I love remembering hearing him explain the story to another classmate, and my little Pakistani student laughs, “Hehe, her legs were up in the air.” So great. We all laughed at that.
Something awesome Kim and I share that nobody else will share with us is my class. They were her first class and they’re now my first class. She calls them “our babies”.
It’s an interesting time to witness in Allie’s life: she’s approaching her 3-month mark in Dhaka. She arrived here in January from Canada to be the new Year 5 teacher. Three months in this life is known as the culture shock time. I remember it so clearly hit me last semester. There was this week of absolute clarity and calm. It was soooo weird. It contrasted so much in comparison to all the weeks before it in that I felt totally comfortable to do everything in my life. For the first time, I wasn’t concerned about walking to the grocery store or catching rickshaw rides to places I’d never gone to before. Teaching was a bit simplified that week, too. Alas, planning still takes me a lot longer than I’d like, but I even enjoy that.
Life here is actually really easy once you get used to it. At our last staff training day, I was reminded that we get used to things. We settle in. I realized (or “realised” as I must teach it) that I am too used to the horrible things here. I don’t really think twice about rent-a-babies held up to the car window like I used to. These babies are borrowed (for money) to induce sympathy. They’re drugged up on cough syrup as to not cause a lady trouble in the heat or to stop them from crying from hunger pangs. Tens of millions of Bangladeshis get used to their poverty. Low-class children work for random street dudes by selling stickers in traffic jams. Our [amazing] principal was kind to remind us that without our being there, Christian people living on mission in Bangladesh could not be here because their kids would have no school to attend. He mentioned to us that there are currently 130 kids waiting for a spot at Grace. Anyway, I’m trying to work on allowing my eyes to be afresh to Bangladesh like in my first three months here. What are you too used to?
St. Patrick was a slave for 6 years beginning at age 16. He returned to Ireland after escaping and eventually attended 12 years of school to study theology. He thought that loving others like the Lord loved him was that important.
Good stuff. Happy St. Patty’s Day! I’m off to Esther’s house to celebrate with everyone tonight- so stoked to be going to my Irish friend’s pad on this day! Here’s to episodes of Father Ted, green beer, and (more importantly) loving on people with eyes anew and a heart full of love like the Lord!
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