Teaching English to Indians...

Have you ever tried to 'teach' a toothless seven year old Indian boy living in a slum how to say Yellow?  Ellow he yells, say Yes I say, Yes he yells, well done and I high five him, now say Yellow...Ellow he yells!  And he never ever sits down, ever.  But he hears us and he learns something from us I am sure.

Maybe that something is that we like him, we want to be there on this day, at this time and we are having as much fun being with him as he is having being with us.

The rich rewards of volunteering, even if it is only for two and a half hours a week.  Teaching English at One International School in Khar Danda is one of my new activities, along with Teaching Yoga.

Once a teacher, always a teacher they say.  THEY just never said what to teach, where to teach and who to teach.  Now teaching in a slum sets you up to face so many prejudices and fears that the teaching is secondary.

The floors are dirty beyond compare, the children's clothes are dirty in a way that would make your toes curl, the smells are sometimes enough to be glad you forgot to have breakfast.  I barely notice that now.  I do still notice who is jittery, who is punching or eye gauging who, and who has the yellowest eye pupils on the day.  There is something that connects the yellow of the eyes to the behaviour in the child I am sure.  The roughest, 'naughtiest' of the children have the yellow pupils.  I wonder why?

Just like I wonder if these children will ever move beyond this 'village', speak more than basic english or ever finish school.  Of course I am not there to teach english.  I am there to be and in being maybe I see more of life in the eyes of my seven year old friends and raise my hopes and maybe my ability to help them.  In whatever form that might take in the future.

I feel blessed.

So by way of a post script I write of my trip in the car just after finishing the words above.  I was on my way to meet my friend Katrina for a fresh lime soda at the Grand Hyatt in Santa Cruz. We were stopped at the traffic lights when amongst the usual array of people knocking on our car window I spied a very small young boy that I recognised from One International.  He saw me and I tried to get him to come to the car, for some food.  First though he tried to wake his mum who was sleeping, in a very deep midday stupor, but was unable to.  He came and got some biscuits, two in all...and ran back shouting happily...teacher, teacher!

Big smile.