Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Drumming and Eggshells

I sit on my front porch
banging my drum for all the world to hear
listening to my own beat

I've found a new form of entertainment here in Freetown
I walk down the streets with a drum strung over my shoulder
And beat with the throngs who want to see if the white man has rhythm

Before I was called white man
Now they call me batta man
The man with the drum

I am going to be playing in our new church service
The one being put together for the ex-pats
The one that will hopefully help us to feel a bit more at home

Last night I put on my headphones
Sat in a wicker chair
And beat till my hands were red and sore

We've been having a different kind of dance party in class
Normally we put on a cd and throw ourselves about for a song or two
Now we use drums

Half the kids beat maniacally
While the other half have to listen to the
rise
and fall
quickening
and slow melodic beats
and move their six year old bodies to the beat they hear

I've been thinking that I ought to take advantage
Of this amazing world of percussionists
And take a few lessons

This could be another feather
In my Renaissance man hat
Another way to wile away the summer days
__________________________________________________

I am definitally counting eggs before they hatch
But at least I can hear movement behind the shell
I'm anxiously awaiting the first crack

Lisbon, Portugal
Full of the mountains and the ocean views I've grown accustumed to
And a short trip to see so many friends I've made in the past two years

This morning my former director
Sat down with me to say that
She had gotten a call from Portugal

They asked some basic things about me
But their big concern was that I had so openly talked about my faith
Do I do the same in my classes

She assured them that I don't
That I know the rules of an American teacher
That my faith was a big part of my life

So they are checking my references
And if the thing they are asking about is my discretion
Then I feel good about my chances

Next year I could be teaching
Kindergarten or Second grade
In Western Europe

I am really excited
My teaching aide isn't
But she's always know I wouldn't stay forever

So that's the news from my part of the world
Where I sit smiling
Thinking of life's wonderful opportunities

3 comments:

Jessica said...

I got punched by a homeless man in Lisbon one time. Did I ever tell you that?

erin said...

very well written, nearly poetic!
Blessings on your new journey.

My response is long so you may not want to post it...
I was a kindergarten assistant! They are something and that's the truth. My teacher, an openly Christian black sister...was forever telling the kids to say "Praise the Lord!" and "Hallelujah!" I really thought the "SS" might be lurking in our door window, ready to pounce at any moment, but nothing ever happened - UNTIL... She was gone one day and I was filling in for her. It just so happened that it was a child's b-day and his family was there with cake.
There they all sat with plates of goodies in front of them,all looking at me, waiting for me to say the prayer she always had them say without fail.
Wow was I on the hot seat. I toyed with the idea of saying go ahead & eat, but I knew them. They would say "but we didn't praaaay!", Making the teacher look bad. So I took the flak (not the best choice!) and bit the bullet and said the prayer with them. They were already in position & ready to go. Sure enough the parents complained to the principal! Of all days for her to be out *sigh*

<---That Girl said...

Oops!!! Sorry, I forgot I was logged in with my daughter's account. My blog isn't at all about Pokemon ruling anything. What a bad first impression! oh and by the way, Jessica sent me... *L*