>Ok…let’s see what I can remember from the last couple days. If I don’t write immediately after things happen, I tend to forget.
Tuesday, we had an argument in class about whether men can be nurses. I wrote on the board: “Is he a nurse?” and they were supposed to make it plural. Straly said: “Andrea, why do you write ‘he’ and not ‘she.'” I said: “Men can be nurses too.” He disagreed and he and Nocky (I just learned this nickname) continued to quietly argue about this after I had moved on to something else. Sorry dad, apparently you are not allowed to be a nurse according to Straly. I’m struggling with having them write their first name (prenon) first and their last name (non fanmi) last. When I wrote my name on the board, they told me my first name was Nissley. I went around and asked every student what their first and last names were, so I’m hoping we will make progress. Then, in my last class, I taught them dates. I asked everyone their birthday. When I came to one student (an older man) I asked: “What is your birthday?” He said: “Flanguins” (his name.) The whole class started cracking up and, terribly, I was trying not to laugh too. He figured it out after some prompting.
Wednesday we took off school because it was the one year anniversary of the earthquake. Camp Hope was having a 6am-6pm memorial church service. I spent the morning reading Toni Morrison’s (or as Liz calls her “Toni Boringson”) book, A Mercy. Around 4, Liz, Henery, and I headed to Fond Parisien. There were a ton of people in the Camp Hope church tent with a band up front. Everyone was singing and dancing. I saw Thomas and Straly and we stood together. Yes, mom, Thomas asked about you, you cougar! : ) When the same time came when the earthquake hit one year ago, we all had to squat/kneel down. I had a cute, but very dirty, child on my lap and my surgeried knee could barely handle the stress. But, when I thought about how my few moments of discomfort were nothing compared to what these people had suffered, the mind can do crazy things and it wasn’t quite as painful. I also got to see my little buddy, Tito, who cried when I left in September. He was looking quite snazzy in his church clothes and wore a giant smile. We stayed about an hour and a half and then headed back home.
A pita! ❤