My crepe making club

Window of Hope meets the manic depressive PCV
Today, we made “family fields” at Window of Hope. I drew myself as a happy little daisy with small eyes and a little round face. I drew a smile on the daisy, and then frowned down at it from my desk. Oh irony. I made my mother into a pink tulip with a yellow-y center, I made my dad into a yellow rose, my sister was some sort of purple flower, and I made her look a little like my daisy because people tell us we look alike. Then I made Ryan a long green vine. And I made Bonny into a flower with all different colored petals: sky blue, dark blue, orange, and purple. She was a funky flower! And then I had to stop b/c everyone needed a lil’ help, and I couldn’t be like, “NO. I must finish MY family field…jerks.” The kids all talked about their “family fields” then I talked about mine.
I helped everyone put their chairs back, we sang the “Window of Hope” cheer which is totally badass, btw. It goes, “We are special, we are smart,
we are a perfect work of art…Strike a pose!
(then, everyone strikes a nice fashion model pose. HOT),
Heart strong, what? Brain strong, huh?
Purple window, ready….GO.”
Then we jump around a bit. It’s pretty great. I actually really enjoy Window of Hope. We have fun, and we’re actually productive. But today’s WOH made me really really sad. Like, trudging-with-my head-down- kickin’- a- rock- sad. We talked about your heart family, and you’re now-family. Your now-family is who you’re with right now, and then your heart family can include anyone you love, such as your parents, or your grandma, and your friends, even if they’ve died. A lot of the kids here don’t live with their parents, so it’s a good way to let them know that their parents can still be with them even if they’ve died, or that their new family is still a family. There’s one kid in my class who is always joking and is a lot of fun, and today at WHO I learned that both of his parents are have died. He is always just so funny in class. I think I forget that these kids have been through a lot, b/c most of them seem so happy at school. But I forget what 7th grade was like. Seventh grade is hard. You’re trying so hard to be cool, and make sure everyone knows how tough you are, especially that you are emotionally tough. Even though my kids get on my nerves sometimes, and they TALK like you can’t believe, most of them are really good kids, and I have to remember that.
Today, I finished WOH, we did the cheer, said goodbye, all that jzazz. I waited until the last kid was out of the room and then burst into tears. I looked at my family field: At my heart family: my mom, my dad, my sister, my friends. Even in the picture, I was this little bitty daisy, and then I put my family at the other end of the field. Because they’re far away. They are at the other end of the field for realla. Then I rolled around a little bit more in self-pity, and went home and made some pasta. Because that’s what you have to do in Bethanie. When the going gets tough, the tough make pasta. And the tough make the pasta too spicy, and then they have to eat a spoonful of peanut butter to make it not spicy, which is ok, b/c peanut butter is awesome. duh.
Totally starting French Club next trimester. It’s gonna be hilarious. The kids have NO IDEA what they’ve asked for. We are gonna learn French, and then we’re gonna make crepes all freaking day. I really think the club should be crepe club, with some French. I mean, that’s what I want it to be. They’ll be like, “Miss, what’s the word for hat?” And I’ll be like, “Make me a crepe, and I’ll tell you.PSH.” That was for Jill. I hope she reads this and sees it. I’m totally just starting the club so get lots of crepes, and maybe my own line of Frozen French pastries to sell in Namibia, b/c you know how much Namibians love French food. Sometimes, it’s like, I can’t leave my house without seeing a Nama man in a beret selling fresh baguettes. It’s out of control. Bethanie’s kind of like little Paris. It’s basically Paris, it’s just a little smaller, and more donkeys, which is really just a bonus.
PS: The word for hat is “chapeau.” Now make me a crepe.
PPS: Really, French club will be cool. We’ll only make crepes a couple of times. We’ll mostly sit around being fancy, and saying things like, “Bien sur, je voudrais de boef. “ Because every Namibian needs to know how to say they’d “love some beef.”