You know that phrase “it’s darkest just before the dawn?” Someone needed to write THAT on my arm in Sharpie last night, instead of another version of “the code,” which is what I had. I woke up dreading another day at the school. I was tired and emotionally drained and sick of waking up at 6:30 am to eat a fast breakfast and then walk to an outside classroom in 98-degree heat in long pants. (We cover our shoulders and knees because that’s “appropriate” for local culture here). I frankly thought about packing it in and just saying, “I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

Me too, kid. Me too.
Me too, kid. Me too.

First off, our school has 150 kids, ranging from 9-months-old to 16. They come at different hours, and they have very different needs. It’s a bit chaotic, understandably, to run this place. It’s also chaotic to volunteer here. I feel in some ways like they give you an amazing range of freedom to teach these kids anything and everything. You can set up games. You can create art stations for painting or drawing or crafts. You can even take them on field trips, provided you go through the channels with the social worker. Yet, it was also really confusing in the first two days, because I’m not a kindergarten teacher back home. I deal in booze and words. I write alone with my coffee.

a late afternoon game of jump rope
a late afternoon game of jump rope

I’ve never been around 40 kids screaming and running in five directions, who don’t speak English as a first language. I don’t speak Khmer. It’s hard to communicate. Super, super hard. The thought of “organizing a game” yesterday seemed like calling a U.N. Peace Conference at a picnic table, with 10 minutes notice and a plastic spork as your only prop.

Then there are some other issues, too. Like, for instance, a few of these adorable little munchkins have lice. I’m not going to act like I’m above being unnerved by lice. I don’t want lice. And these are no normal lice. They are so large you can see them crawling across tiny scalps. You can see them hop. These are lice the size of house cats. (I could make a joke about Louse Cats, but I’m too exhausted from doing matrix moves all day to avoid the lice.)

I'm learning to let go and accept that getting lice won't even hurt me. As you can tell, I'm learning from afar. This is one of my very favorite students, diligently checking out her younger brother. Good sister ...
I’m learning to let go and accept that getting lice won’t even hurt me. As you can tell, I’m learning from afar. This is one of my very favorite students, diligently checking out her younger brother. Good sister …

Then the kids cough and all I can think is “tuberculosis! I’m going to get tuberculosis!!” Or, “Shit, I’m going to get Dengue Fever! Dengue. Fever.” And I feel like a horrible person. I want to hug them and pull them into my lap, and play with their hair … but sometimes, I’m too worried. I’m not going to pretend that I came over here and became some sort of Lady Diana, holding the hand of leprosy and gliding through the room with a beatific smile on my face. I don’t always have a smile on my face, and I definitely wouldn’t touch leprosy hands. Because that’s how you get leprosy, people.

I wash my hands like I’m going into cardiac surgery at least 9 times per day. I’m eating Emergency Vitamin-C packets like a chubby French kid eats mayo on fries. I no longer even use water.  I just dump the powder into my mouth. Like Pop Rocks.

Amidst all my complaining, I kept being blown away by the beauty
Amidst all my complaining, I keep falling in love with these kids

So yeah … this morning, I walked in that little school feeling like it might be my last day there. I just wasn’t equipped mentally or physically or emotionally to take one more day of feeling like I was just watching a stage play of poverty. Then, what I had really, earnestly hoped would happen did.

“Are you the girl with the camera?” I wasn’t even holding it at the time. She had noticed before when I was shooting headshots of kids to make the new name badges for the school.

“Yes. I am. Do you like photography?”

“Yes. I love it. I want to be a photographer. Your camera is very pretty. It’s cool.”

Her name is S.K. She’s 12. She broke my heart. (All names of kids on this blog will be changed for their protection, per request of the school)

“Do you think some day I can own a camera? They are so expensive.” I looked at her. “Yes. You absolutely can own a camera and you can be a photographer. You just have to study. That’s all. Just study as hard as you possibly can. Go to school. Every day. Can you do that?” The head nod had such enthusiasm behind it, I guilty thanked God she didn’t have lice. Part of what was so difficult these previous few days was the lack of order at the school. There’s a free-form attitude, which can be both bad and good. We aren’t micro-managed to any degree, and we are allowed to organically interact with the children in non-forced settings.

We can be ourselves and they can be who they are, as well. But, when you are new, and you don’t know anyone’s name and it’s hot and you can’t even say “please come and sit down and listen to me” to six-year-olds in their language … well … frustration sets in. I came here wanting to teach. Not to babysit and color. S.K. gave me that opportunity today. I handed her my camera. I didn’t even hesitate. I literally wanted her to play with it so badly, I wouldn’t have even blinked if she dropped it and broke it. I would have gone and gotten on Amazon, ordered another via express Fed Ex and handed her the new one as soon as it came.

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She acted like my camera was made out of Ryan Gosling’s face. Totally in love. Smitten. Enthralled.

I set it to “auto” and showed her the shutter button. She took her first photo, only I knew it wasn’t going to come out because she was shooting a kid with the sun directly behind him. He was going to be nothing but a sillouette. A bit bummed, I started to explain as she looked at the playback function. But before I got the full concept out, she yelled “Wait! I know. Sun from behind makes his face too darkness!” Then she barked a command at the kid in Khmer to move and turned to shoot him with the sun to her back, the light illuminating his face.

Clearly, she’s a genius. She’s the next Georgia O’Keefe. I went in the bathroom and cried tears of joy into the sink (and of course, washed my hands for a 40th time.)

S.K.'s second, better photo
S.K.’s second, better photo

We hung out and shot for the rest of the day. We looked at my old photos and discussed what she liked and didn’t like, and I’m setting up a field trip for her and some of the other kids for either tomorrow or Monday to shoot the Pagodas here. Then, at the end of the month, we want to have a photo exhibition in the school’s gallery. I’ll keep you guys posted. I’m probably going to need you to Western Union me funds. I going to need money once I end up purchasing all of her photos.

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There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. – Leonard Cohen