me and my girls, sreywin, aliza, lydea

October 21, 2007

It’s been, what? Just under 2 months, and I’m already horribly attached to my students. They are my kids, my children, my, my, me, me. I find myself bending over backwards to make Sotha happy. He walks around with pants too big for him, does a jig from side to side, moving his arms, swinging his legs, whenever I put on music (he likes Donavon Frankenreiter and India.Arie). He has a perfect circle for a head, big black eyes, big cheeks, and little sharp teeth. His hair is floppy and disheveled, short on the sides, long on the top. He’s a walking Sanrio Peckle, an unreal, cheerful cartoon. And when he really smiles, it’s with his whole body; it’s monumental. I panic when it goes away. He’s a wonderful student, does his work quietly, thoroughly, and when he finishes early he helps others. But the minute the bell rings he’s absolute chaos (thank God it's not the other way around). He’s passionate and silly and is rapidly becoming the reason I wake up in the morning. I want to spoil these kids, but teach them to be respectful and patient, merciful, and grateful. They’ve never been spoiled, barely had the necessities (if that), never gone to Sea World or a big American zoo, no Disneyland or Legoland, never had someone sit and give them their undivided attention, answer all of their silly questions, or make pointless crafts with them all afternoon. They’re ecstatic if I make them a single paper flower. I need and I want to do this for them. I need and I want to bend over backwards, to accommodate for all of their lackings. I need, I want and I will.