Say Hello to Mr. George

"Good morning class this is Mr. George. He's going to be your teacher today. He will teach you many things, about many different kinds of things...and he will make you laugh."

Oh.

So that's what Thakur meant when he said, "Would you like to teach a class today?"

It was the fifth week in a four week excursion through Nepal. I had told myself the adventures were over. It had been a glorious month of trying, tasting, trekking, and testing. But my plane home was in 48 hours and I was back in the quiet suburb of Tupanchock to live out the epilogue of my journey.

I awoke that morning with no plans. I sipped my masala tea, my bare feet on the cool marble porch, listening to the thwack thwack of the farmers scythe and the clang clang of cowbells. And as the morning sun began to creep across the fields in front of the house I harbored no pedagogical aspirations in my heart.

But when my host announced that his friend was a headmaster and asked if I could teach a class, how could I refuse? I figured "teaching" amounted to an interview of sorts. But now, dry erase marker in hand, and no curriculum in sight, I realize I just received my substitute teaching degree. My epilogue will have to wait.

A few awkward moments pass as the eyes of a dozen 10 year olds gaze at me while the warm breeze blows chants from the nearby monastery through the door along with dust that swirls around our ankles.

I retreat into my own song. Stalling for time. The uniformed class giggles as this long haired American "teacher" yodels and beats their desks like drums.

My third song (The Beatles' "Eight Days a Week") comes to a close and my eyes rest upon my journal filled with Haikus.

That's it!

"Do you know what a poem is?" I ask.

A few head nods, a "yes" here and there.

"How about syllables?"

Silence.

Ok we'll change the syllable requirements to words. 5 words. 7 words. 5 words.

After bequeathing my wealth of knowledge on the history of Haikus (i.e. "they're a poem from Japan") I scribble some spaces on the white board, hang man style, and fill in the following:
"Tea is good for me.
I like to drink tea and milk
tea I like the most"

Admittedly not my best work but it does the trick. They copy it down and I instruct them (really getting into character) to write their very own Haiku. After several minutes of frantic scribbling and erasing and re-scribbling a girl in the back raises her hand, "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"May I read mine aloud?"

Who needs an epilogue anyway.