A Year to Remember

On Friday, February 26th, Kirsten and I woke with a heavy weight on our hearts; it was our last day of school. The day we had been dreading for weeks was finally here and there was no avoiding the pain that we would feel. As I wrapped myself in a sari for the last time, my eyes stung with tears. I thought back to the first time Kirsten and I wore a sari to school. I remember feeling nervous that my sari would fall off and how our cheeks burned with embarrassment when 700+ students cheered wildly at the sight of us in traditional Indian dress. That day seemed so long ago, and now, here we were preparing to say goodbye. I could have never predicted the emotions I would feel on our final day, but earlier that week I was given some insight into just how hard it would be.

On the 22nd, after weeks of preparation, endless amounts of frustrations and several headaches later, our Spoken English students performed their Annual Function to a hall packed with students, teachers and families. Despite our worries, the students did a fabulous job and we couldn't have been more proud. At the end of the program some of my girls rushed up to me and said, "Teacher, Binal is crying." As I went to comfort her, the tears became contagious and soon, all 16 girls were huddled around me, tears streaming down their faces. "Please Teacher," they begged, "don't go to America. Don't leave us!" Now, I was the one with tears running down my face.

The rest of the week was just as hard and filled with tears. In each of my final classes I wrote my address on the board and the students copied it down into their worn notebooks. I was crying again when my 8D class presented me with gifts and roses. I was deeply touched when my 5th standard students gave me whatever they could, which amounted to 15 ball pens, 2 key chains, a half bottle of purple nail polish and a heart made from notebook paper. I choked back my tears as I said goodbye and walked out of the classroom for the last time.

Not only did I build relationships with the students, but also with our fellow teachers, and saying goodbye to them was just as hard. As a small token of our appreciation, Kirsten and I hosted a lunch for all the staff members on that final Friday. The entire staff of 60+ people gathered in the center hall and I was fighting back tears (unsuccessfully)as some of the teachers spoke about us. When it was my turn to talk, I couldn't. Sadness had gripped my throat and I couldn't catch my breath. Kirsten took over while I regained my composure and I then tried to relate with words the feelings in my heart. I thanked them for opening their school, sharing their students, and for treating us like family.
As we sat down to eat, a teacher leaned over and whispered, "Even though you are leaving, we will always remember you in our hearts."
"And you will be in mine," I replied.

My days in India are numbered, a fact that I would like to deny. This country is so vibrant and full of life, from the colors to the people. India is bursting with possibility and I hope that the students, the future leaders of India, are given the skills to make their dreams possible and to lead their country. I hope that I helped to contribute to their future successes, and I hope that they will remember me, because I will remember them.

I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity to experience India in such an intimate way; to interact with it's future, to fall in love with it's people, and above all, to learn. India is a country I have grown to love, even though it challenged me. It's a place I have learned to appreciate, even though at times it frustrated me. My heart will not forget the things that my eyes have seen or my ears have heard. The kindness that was shown to me and the friendships I have made will not be forgotten.
For me, India will always remain Incredible.