In my last post I mentioned I would try my absolute best to tell all my kids how much I love I them. Well, try I did, and BOY was it hard. We had one last big hurrah of a movie night last weekend, of which I prefaced with my short schpiel about loving my kids. I stood on a chair in the front of the classroom, and after making sure ALL 90 were in the room and everyone was looking at me, I sign-stuttered my way into explaining how much they've meant to me in just two short years. I told them if it weren't for them I would have been long gone a while ago, and if it weren't for them I wouldn't have been even remotely as happy as I am when they're around. I told them I love them more than words or signs can say, that I'll miss them more than anything in the world, and finally I told them "thank you:" for reminding me that patience is essential for sanity, that happiness is not about having a lot of things, that personal vanity should always be thrown out the window, that curiosity should never, ever be stopped or stunted or held back, and most of all, thanked them for being themselves.
My kids - just them the way they are - is all I have ever needed here.
I am going to miss them so much. I already do.
After I finished saying what I needed to say, the kids themselves told me thank you as well, gave me all that love right back, and told me once again how much they're going to miss me. It took some effort to hold back the tears that I knew were on their way, but I managed to keep it together until I left the room at least. I turned the movie on and quickly made my way out of the room to the back steps of school where I could sit in peace and cry my eyes out until there was nothing left. Well the peace and quiet didn't last long. One of my Form 3's noticed I was a little hurried to leave the room and waited a few minutes before coming out to check on me. He thought something else was wrong, something other than my looming bout of depression once they all leave. In sign I told him "miss deaf alone, bas," meaning missing them was the only thing I was crying about at that point. Then, what I didn't realize until later, was that Emmanuel had gone back into the classroom, paused the movie, turned the lights on, made everyone look at him, and told them all that Sarah was sitting outside crying and she needed some comforting. That prompted two of my girls and another one of my boys to come out and cry with me. This lasted about an hour and a half, with different kids cycling in and out of the cry-fest.
All in all it was a pretty emotional night, and that's a definite understatement. My eyes were still pretty red and swollen when I woke up the next morning.
The emotions don't stop there, though!
Tuesday was a party day, of which I was mostly unaware, because they all tried to keep it a secret from me. I knew something was going on, but I didn't know any details or anything. Turns out all my teachers and all the staff (dorm father, cooks, shamba boy) had contributed some cash and they went out and bought pilau for the whole school! The kids were stuffing their faces and I couldn't have been happier watching them do it. Then after we all couldn't eat anymore, one of my teachers, Veronica, shuffled everyone -kids, teachers, staff, and even a board member- into the Form 4 classroom to have a little ceremony for me and for the Form 4's, who were also leaving school at the end of this year. Two of my teachers, the dorm father, the board member, and three of my kids all got up in front of everyone and said how thankful they were to have had Sarah for two whole years. They each listed lots of the different things I've done, or paid for, and all said a big 'thank you and God bless you.' Then they said it was my turn to talk. I had already had my night with just my kids, thank goodness, so, having nothing prepared, I just said thank you again, and told them one more time how much I love them. I thanked my teachers for sticking through it with me and for that whole wonderful little party. I knew if I started saying too much more I'd explode into tears again, so I tried to keep it short and sweet. Then they gave me presents! Not only had the teachers chipped in to buy a good lunch for everybody, they also chipped in to buy me a bracelet and a very pretty wrap from Mombasa. My kids also did a similar thing. They each contributed 10 shillings, which can buy a whole chapati, so could not have been easy for them to give up. 90 kids x 10 shillings a piece got to around 900/-. My head boy and head girl took that money and went into Kilifi that morning and bought me a necklace, a pair of earrings, and another wrap, in really bright Kenyan colors "so I wouldn't forget Kenya." How could I ever forget this place?
Anyway, I was humbled and touched beyond belief and once again felt like I didn't deserve this kind celebration and this kind of love. The day ended in a lot more hugs and a few more tears, and one final movie night before they all had to pack up and go home the next day. I know I'll be back next year and will see most of them again, but that didn't make it any easier to say goodbye. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accurately express how much I love them. I think it's safe to say I've tried though.
I'll finish up with one last picture. After the little thank you/goodbye ceremony we were all shuffled outside one more time to watch the acrobatics that the kids had prepared. When they had finished jumping around and cartwheeling and back handspring-ing we took one final whole-school photo, with Sarah's tiny little white head smushed in the middle of her 90 favorite people.
Goodbye kiddos. Love you more than I can say. Thank you for everything you've taught me and done for me, and don't ever forget how wonderful you are!
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