"The reward of a job well done is to have done it."

My eyes streamed as I squinted through clouds of dirt and dust. My back and knuckles voiced their complaint as I carried piles of bricks to the ledge of the house, and wooden floorboards groaned beneath my feet. Despite the ache and somewhat lack of vision, I maintained my part in the assembly line: tossing useless bricks over the side of the house and into the empty streets below.

Because Deeya Shree is not open on Saturdays, we took our free time as an excellent opportunity to put some much needed physical labor into cleaning the collapsed houses that were spilling into the streets of a neighborhood in Bhaktapur. For hours we tore apart wood framing, stacked whole bricks, tossed the rest, and eventually managed to level two floors of a three story house (ceiling to ceiling.) The debris from our work swelled in the alley below, and clouds of dust settled in a grainy coat over my skin.

As I toiled, I couldn't help but visualize this situation as my own. With each brick I mangled from the walls, I imagined taking my home, the haven and sacred temple of my life, down. Brick by brick. I imagined ripping down the plaster and wood that sheltered me as I grew up, and holding years of those sacred memories in one hand. Then with a single motion tossing them into the heaps of rubble below, watching them shatter among the others. Brick by heart-wrenching brick.

Day 4/5

Returning after the school's one day break, Nicole and I taught in Class Three. There is no exaggeration when I say that patience truly is a magnificent virtue. At such a young age, and with such high levels of energy, Class Three pushed me to near limits. I marveled at the class's frustrating discrepancy of advanced understanding coupled with low tolerance for listening. Knowing that the students all understood what I was saying, but chose not to listen... Needless to say I have a great new found respect for my teachers. But this is not to say our day was a failure. While teaching did prove as a struggle, Nicole and I managed to reach the kids through certain lessons and activities. By the end of the day, Class Three had begun the process of viewing us as more than temporary volunteers, and valuing what we had to offer.

On Monday I made the shift from Chaotic Class three to tranquil Four. Throughout all our lessons the students, though with some incentives and reminders, worked avidly. Whether it be drawing a terrestrial animal or learning the ins and outs of microcomputer functions.

By lunchtime, the Class Four students had taken complete enthrallment in my blue eyes. Namrata, one of my tiny, incredibly cute students asked, "Why are your eyes so blue if mine are so black?"

"Because I'm magic!" I said, several children now poking at my eyes. They all stood back and laughed, and Namrata grabbed my hand, "If you are magic, you can make me tall?" I now show her magic every day by lifting her high into the air and spinning her around as she giggles, "Look how tall I am!"

Day 6/7

Tuesday, just like Sunday, had to be earned through tiring work, and pushed me to the limits. Nicole and I taught in Class Six (the oldest,) which consisted of four shy boys. Though it provided the same amount, if not more, of a challenge as Three, my struggle was rooted in their boredom. Granted, a lesson about the power and role of the Municipal in Nepal may not inspire the most enthusiasm, but we were still grappling for ideas. However, we refused to shut down, and never stopped.

Our class came through the most when Keshab spoke about morals. He was discussing hard work, preparation, and serving others when he pointed to us, "There are three hundred and eighteen million people in America," he told the four boys, "so why are there only two in your classroom?"

Today, we visited a sister school located in the outskirts of the city, nestled in foothills and towering forests. As we pulled into the open courtyard of the small, steamy school, it was the perfect stereotypical image of Nepal. The chipped, colorfully painted buildings residing comfortably among rolling green farms, cows waddling down the road, and domineering mountains bathed in vivid green.

Because we could only stay until lunch, we had the opportunity to play a version of duck duck goose with nearly all the students of the school. We formed a circle in the courtyard, and despite the blistering heat and my poor decision to wear a skirt today, we ran redundantly, trying to tag each other. The game lasted only a short while until before we split up once more to teach in the classrooms. Nicole and I went to class six, and immediately sparked excitement when we passed out colorful maps of the world to each table. Though we only taught two classes, the students remained lively, and were eager to drink in whatever we had to pour out.

Before piling back in the van to return to Deeya Shree, the students walked around with pens, asking us to sign our names on their hands. As I crossed the courtyard a young girl, not old enough to understand English, ran in circles giggling as I tickled her sides. We were flashed countless smiles as the wheels churned over dirt and we waved our goodbyes.

To switch up the usual schedule, I taught with AJ in Class Five. We came in time for two classes, and did not hesitate to teach long equations and the process of germination. I continued my tradition of magic with Namrata after school.

For the third time this trip, we traveled further back into Bhaktapur to Puniram's house, the beaming man who transports us around the city. With thunder storms hugging the dark sky, we began the process of uprooting bricks, collecting the whole ones, and disposing the broken. As we stacked and threw, my visualization of this as my own home was put into perspective as children brought down the house they've been living in for years.

Everyday I pass houses with crumbling bricks and walls slumping into their neighbors'. It wasn't until I stood in the mist of broken bricks and old furniture that used to recline in someone's home, that I truly realized the immensity of Nepal's situation, and how valuable our presence and work here is. Even if it is only brick by brick.

"The reward of a job well done is to have done it." - Ralph Waldo Emerson