"Teacher, do you know Chuck Norris?"

I have the most amazing children in my 7th grade Science class. I've never even enjoyed that subject, until now. They are like sponges, relentlessly asking me to teach them Spanish during their prep period. Every day I am bombarded with new inquisitions that range from, "Teacher, is it true Oprah Winfrey is the richest woman in the world?" to "Teacher, how do you feel being ruled by the black man?" I've been caught off guard by questions like, "Teacher, why do Americans shake their head when they talk?" and "Teacher, what is the drug they use to kill rats?"

Teaching is the hardest job I've ever had. It never ends, and when I'm not preparing lesson plans for Math, Science or English, I'm thinking about how I can make the classes more interesting or come up with more creative examples to explain a concept. I actually fabricated an entire story today about a drug addict "best friend" of mine in New York that died from an overdose, in order to talk about drugs in Science. I think I even shed a few tears.

It is in the tiresome walks home through late afternoon that I really have time to think about what I'm doing here. Accompanied by hens, goats, and occasional donkeys, I pass by mothers with babies wrapped to their backs, and cows with ropes securing them to the ground. It is in these moments I can feel the raw authenticity that is life. I've never noticed the color of my skin more than now, nor wished so badly that I could be unnoticeable, and it's sobering to experience this existence. But sometimes during these long walks, if I divert my gaze from the color of my body, for a short moment I can look around and become everyone I see.

As each day passes I feel increasingly more comfortable, and the town more like home. Africa hits you hard, and you never know when it will happen, but in a way you're never the same. It's difficult to imagine not seeing these people again once I leave, and it makes the goodbyes I've said in past years a little less serious. I'm apprehending what a small world we live in, and that we all come to this place for different reasons, but we leave with an understanding that can never be explained, just known. I realize it is in the loneliness that I find my greatest comfort, and that the growth generates not from all the ways in which I know I'm changing, but from all the ways I don't.

"Teacher, do you know Donald Trump? Teacher, why is your skin so sensitive? Teacher, do you have friends that are black? Teacher, why do people live longer in America? Teacher, does Arnold Schwarzenegger use steroids? Teacher, please don't go. Teacher...teacher...."