Yesterday I was not feeling like performing. I had that “wanna-stay-in-eat-popcorn-and-watch-movies” kind of feeling. Even though I know it is a mental test of adapting, I still keep inching closer towards the soothing sensation of apathy. Not good, I know.
During the cab ride I kept reminding myself of magical moments I’ve experienced here in Argentina. I was revisiting vignettes in my mind that made me smile. It is funny. Once you begin to smile, your attitude changes. By the time we made it to the school I was a bit more upbeat. I only needed one more thing to push me over the edge of contentedness. The eyes of young souls enchanted by the experience of listening to stories. I got my wish.
The school is called Barker School and it is way out on the outskirts of Buenos Aires in an area called Lomas de Zamora.
From the moment I entered the halls of the schools I was greeted and treated like a king. I’m not joking, literally! There were young women prepared to introduce me, children were seated and waiting quietly and oh so patiently. They were hanging on every words, every syllable. It was evolving into an incredible experience. The older children 11 and 12 year old presented me with a gift and, when the performance was complete, the entire audience got up and began moving forward towards me. This seems to be happening more and more lately. I need to figure out why.
I spent my break engaging them all. I don’t care about breaks as much when I have children standing in front of me willing to talk, engage, and ask questions.
I had to head over to the primary school. This is when things took ahold of me and forced me to write this blog.
I was giving my all in a tale meant to elicit an empathic response. I was standing in front of children average age of 6 years old. Their fluency level was really good but you could tell they were just learning.
Near the end of the performance a young girl keeps her hand raised in a very quiet, respectful manner. Her demeanor actually made her appear quite powerful in comparison to her tiny size.
I silenced the room and asked her what it was she needed to say. And these are here exact words, not joking, “I love this moment.”
A 5 or 6-year-old child grasping the concept of appreciating “the moment.” I almost jumped out of my skin. The words I’ve written in no way do justice the ambience of the room or the gentle, but powerful tone of her voice.
I sang that child’s praises loudly and clearly before closing out the session.
It felt as though “everyone” present appreciated that child’s wisdom… me included.