No school Saturday!

I just ended a week long stay at St. Joseph's primary school in Porour. Ranging from LKG, which is pre-k to 4th std (4th grade) it is English medium with Tamil and Hindi classes. Working on sculpting some tri-lingual students quite impressively. I stayed in a basic room with two beds and a proper mosquito net. Phil and Nancy had stayed their previously with the shelves bare except for a few English romance novels and some hangers. Every night after finishing dinner at 9p.m. I would escape the mosquitoes (kosu in Tamil) and take to writing in my journal and resting on some wild sky blue sheets with clouds, bubbles, mechanical parts, and random shapes scattered over them. I must say the variety of textiles is pleasing my art influenced eyes. I would give English lessons during the day to the 4th std students and take Tamil class with the 3rd std ones. The 1st std and UKG (kindergarten) students would race to touch my had, step on my feet, or introduce themselves to me. I would watch their drawing lessons showing them some fashion figures and a white daisy I sketched on the blackboard. They drew a tropical fish. One morning a student asked me to draw a bunny, and after 10 minutes there were 25 bunnies of various shape and size littering the chalkboard. I was impressed with the artistic efforts of the school also inclusive of a computer class where they are learning Paint, PowerPoint, and Word programs. It was a week full of questions and learning, my private school knowledge has definitely increased and resulted in a Q&A I've submitted to Phil. I'll be working on applying for a scholarship from Bill & Melinda, if they are so kind and visiting St. Mary's in Chenglepattu today. Having some adventures with Hindu God statues tomorrow all in preparation for another school visit.
It is getting much warmer as I noticed the sweat dripping down my stomach when we played in the courtyard at the school. It became visible through my white t-shirt, an artful one, given to me by the fantastic photographer Casey Sperry (when she used to be a Kelly). It has some black geometric graphics printed on it. With my Mavi jeans and Diesel sneakers I look as American as they come. As I wait for the bus under the shade of a banyan tree and monkeys rustle leaves and look for some food to swipe all the action that surrounds me encompasses me in India. Trucks of rice with Hindu drawings go for delivery, a fish seller moves half of her merchandise out of the sun on it's burlap sack, a group of 5 squeeze into an already full rickshaw, a woman walks with a plastic bag of carrots to her home down the road, a motorcycle zips by to fill up a gas can and some stray dogs pick through leaves and trash trying to nourish themselves while viciously gnawing at their already tormented skin which is scabbed and bleeding, the hairs barely covering their backside. I get on the private bus and I am whisked away by the Indian pop music and the purple printed interior. Everyone looks at me in this moment and slowly their eyes are distracted again by the women bent in half in the paddy fields, or a close call with a taxi or bike passing in the other direction. Back to Chengelpattu to repack my travel bag and meander along the road to another school or another adventure.