Our house is becoming lived in. Our house is now "let's go home". We are a house of three women artists, and there are trees on the walls. Piles and stacks and assortments of children's art and the accumulation of our scattered belongings are pushed into corners and under windows. There are writing utensils and empty water bottles everywhere, but mostly on the kitchen counter. Gulf washed clothing hangs from the nails on our porch, we are out of well water. One red candle grows smaller every night. We finally have speakers to play my folk music loudly. Thank goodness.
All of a sudden I know how to teach, or think I do, which may be the same thing. Maybe fifteen kids today on the beach, and their attention spans were short and their shirts very yellow, they kept spilling the paint water, (but it was funny). I am honestly impressed by them today, especially the little one who finally filled the whole page, and the boy who painted the red underneath the water. I am being completely charmed by these little people and their art, their personalities, their growth, the blue paint on the nose, the trys and re-trys. I kept kicking sand on them by accident though, but they were already covered in it. I know all of their names today. With some variations. (Brenden/brandan? Coby/Colby?) Maybe tomorrow. The bus pulled away and I'm excited for Friday; the local newspaper and television station are coming to the beach to watch us teach. I'll have to wear my nice ripped dirty jeans.
I walked as far as I could into the Gulf to try and make it to where my feet couldn't touch, but it didn't happen. I swam back and said hello to the dead catfish floating nearby, and wondered if it had died of old age. We three, Pamela, Youme and me, lounged in three feet of water before sleepily finding our way home.
I sneakily prepared pretty much the same dinner I did the first night, the difference was the asparagus. I really don't know why the gravy on the chicken tastes so good; the ingredients don't make any sense. Together, that is.
We're going to New Orleans tomorrow, but in the morning we're teaching the Mount Zion kids at another beach. Hurrah!
Monica