Tonight, as I watched my two-year-old pour milk into water and the combination back and forth between her glasses, I was overcome with nostalgia.  I remembered back to when I was teaching in the Children’s House and the children would fill their glass with water after having milk and proclaim the milky substance milk-alade.  Some of those young children are now among the older students of the school.  They are the children I often call upon to help the newer members of our community, as they are well versed in how to treat others, the lesson procedures, classroom maintenance.  Essentially, they are the true teachers of the school.

As I sat at the dinner table, feeling a sense of sadness and joy all mixed together (something akin to milk-alade) I remembered a phone call from the morning.

A student who moved to Argentina called me right after we finished our Community Meeting.  I stepped out of the room on our busy second day, and took the phone.  “I miss you,” the conversation began.  We talked of her new school, the chickens, again of missing.  Eventually I had to bring our phone call to an end, but as I re-entered the room, my eyes filled with tears.  Oh these children.  I grow to love them so much.  And to have someone leave before our time is done.  My heart can barely stand it.