Helpful?

February 2007

The acidic pineapple assaulted my mouth and I could barely keep my eyes open. It was 6:30 a.m. We walked on the cobbled dirt road past children in smoothed school uniforms, their dark eyes shining brilliantly in their smiling faces. They looked at me like I was an alien, a goddess, Britney Spears. How could I teach them English? How could I teach them anything? I pleaded with God that I could be helpful, if just for an hour. A year later and I still wanted more than anything to helpful; it’s just that I no longer pleaded with God.

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