It’s a sunny Tuesday afternoon, and I’m sitting on a wall watching over Class IV as they sit individually or in small groups around the playground, heads all bent avidly over the stories they’re writing about my teddy bear, Geoffrey. Behind them, the sun makes the snow on the mountain tops glow, and the new blossom on the apple trees seems the most beautiful sight in the world.
It seems like a good time to try and write something about my impressions of India and the Gap experience, and how I feel about being here. But it’s not an easy thing to write about mainly because I don’t think my vocabulary is sufficient to successfully convey my experience of this country, this town, this school, this family.
It’s taken a month for me to get to know all the ‘sections’ of this family – the boys and girls divide into ‘big’ and ‘small’, and until yesterday, it still felt like many of them were strangers, and there was a constant awkwardness whenever we exchanged ‘good afternoon’s. Magic tricks are apparently the way to go. We spent a really enjoyable two hours last night sharing magic tricks both amazing and silly with kids of all ages. Meanwhile all around us were games of catch, basketball, marbles and slaps (which we instigated and are now regretting because our hands are constantly stinging). Since then, we are greeted as sisters in the family by everyone at the home.
As I looked around me at all the smiling and laughing faces, I felt so much a part of this large family, many members of which I haven’t met, and so at home within the walls of the compound that I almost cried. I generally enjoyed school and take part in many things within the community at home, but I’ve never really felt as settled and accepted as I do here. I guess you’ll find that children anywhere are friendly and open, and I know this experience isn’t limited to me at DUF, but will be felt be gapers and all people working in similar situations, nevertheless it is a very personal and individual feeling.
When I first arrived here, life was much more barren. Not only was the landscape a dull brown, but relationships were tentative at best – between me and the teachers, the children at the home, the day scholars, even with Celia to an extent. But every day I looked out of the window, another patch of grass seemed greener, or another apple tree had burst into blossom, and these signs of spring echoed the blooming of relationships and the forging of what I know will be life-long connections.
I was interrupted in my thoughts by the appearance of Pema at my side, story in hand and his huge trademark grin on his face. His story says that Geoffrey goes to school, but prefers to go home and eat lots of honey. I smiled myself as I remembered the first ‘reading’ lessons with this class and others, when we almost wore out the Winnie-the-Pooh story in which Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit’s hole. It obviously had an impression on at least one student. I drew a tick under the writing and sent him away to illustrate it, laughing as he ran excitedly back to where he had been sitting.
The other thing I’ve been marveling at recently is how quickly I’ve settled into the role of teacher. Admittedly, I spent 5 months working as a teaching assistant at home before coming out here, but working 1-1 with a child in England is very different to leading a class of 18 younger children who don’t all speak your language. Although classes are still quite difficult at times, it doesn’t phase me at all; I just take it in my stride and automatically use reward and punishment systems appropriate to each class’s level of understanding.
And at the same time, when we’re just being the ‘fun gappers’ after school, I slot very easily into that role as well, and find I don’t compare the children’s behaviour in and out of school. It’s almost as if I have two separate lives here, with two different sets of children to work with, even if we end up discussing school or lessons in the evenings.
Life is strange in that respect – no matter what it throws at you, you just face it head on and deal with things as they come. I guess that’s what life is. And when you don’t face what’s thrown at you in a situation like this is when the homesickness must set in. I’ve been far too busy getting used to my new roles and meeting new people to have enough time to stop returning the ball and just sit and rest. And while I may be exhausted at the end of the day, I can sleep safe and happy in the knowledge that I’ve given my all, and that my all has been appreciated by a variety of people at a variety of levels, and the effort may have made a difference to someone.
So many people who sponsored me to come out here said it was because it was a ‘worthwhile cause’, but until you’re actually here feeling the exhilaration that doing something ‘worthwhile’ actually creates, it’s just an empty cliché. I’m living that cliché and loving every minute of it.
So there you have it. I’m not sure much of this will make sense to anyone who hasn’t had a similar experience, but I hope it’s given an impression of how I feel about life as a gapper in India. In short, it is truly amazing, and all the other synonyms for amazing you may care to suggest. It’s tough at times, but also continually exciting and challenging, and the most memorable experience anyone could wish for.
