European escapade

Last week, during Spring Break, D.A. sent us to a conference in Germany. It was quite refreshing going from hot, hazy, gritty Senegal to

fresh, lush, chilly Germany. Not an ounce of trash be

smirched the

quaint, cobble-stoned streets and the houses were painted in delightfully bright, contrasting colors.

Many of the German words we saw were ludicrously lengthy, but were also quite entertaining to articulate (or at least attempt to articulate). It was also quite amusing to watch some of our favorite shows in German (particularly when we wondered how they translated the English slang “izzle”!)

The conference itself was a breath of fresh air and we left with our cups overflowing. I, myself, attended every librarian workshop and seminar that there was and relished in my fellow co-worker’s passions, ideas and insights. My favorite workshop was “How to make your library THE place to be”. I am constantly on the look out for how to make our library a welcoming place, a sanctuary of sorts for people to come to study, read, relax and enjoy. On the other side of the spectrum, learning why we catalogue the way we do was not all that thrilling. Definitely important, but a bit of a snoozer.

Still, I walked away from the conference with more knowledge, and more importantly, with a definite confirmation that what we’re doing at Dakar Academy is God-ordained. Can there be a higher calling than working with youth? Did you realize that children make up 50% of the world’s population and that 85% of Christians surrender their lives to Christ between the ages of 4-14? Statistics say that the probability of converting someone over the age of 20 is an astonishingly low 6%! Wow. What an impact we can have!

However, the impact we make can be for the good OR for the bad. I was humbled by the assertion that the way we interact with kids and the impressions we leave on them can easily alter their course for life. One harsh comment or one loving, compassionate moment can forever influence a child and even go so far as to send them down a certain path. Haven’t we all had those definable moments?

When I was a young, budding author, a particular English teacher of mine gave me a blank journal with a cover woven out of exquisitely colorful African fabric and a note written by hand on the inside cover. The note simply encouraged me in my aspirations as a writer, but I read that note just about every time I opened that book to write inside of it (which was quite often!) Someone believed in me, and thought that I had a special talent, which is one of the chief reasons as to why I became an English major (on the writing track) and am now teaching creative writing to children today. Thank you, Miss O!

Anyway, after our brief stint in Germany, my parents, Mike and I took a train down to Italy (since we were in the neighborhood) to hike the gorgeous, picturesque towns of Cinque Terre: five coastal cities nestled amid the cliffs along the Mediterrean sea. Mom actually had to retire her high heels for the two days we were there as we hiked from town to town, walking along trails carved within the cliffs, with the smells of salty sea air and fresh spring blossoms accompanying us. The view was stunning and each town was uniquely it’s own, though all had an equally enchanting European small-town feel to them, with their endearing little shops, multihued houses with matching wooden shutters and enticingly delicious smelling restaurants and cafes (none of which Mom missed poking her head into for investigation). We got on a cappuccino kick while we were there and had cappuccinos once or twice a day at least. (By the way, many of you might be thinking, "What grown children want to vacation with their parents?" We do! That just goes to show how awesome my rents are!)

Well, the two days flew by, and we had to say goodbye to Cinque Terre, but the grief was short-lived as we hopped a train to Venice where we only had four hours to explore before we had to catch a plane back to Dakar.

Venice is definitely unique. We bustled through the crowded streets and wandered into the high-priced, glass-blown shops only to nervously duck back out again in fear of breaking something too costly for us to repay. Mom didn’t wear practical shoes that day so we took a water taxi back, which was actually a brilliant oversight on her part. =) Unlike when we were walking the narrow streets amid the throngs of people, we were able to actually see the exquisite antique architecture of the buildings during our relaxing and scenic boat ride back. We took many a picture of the numerous gondolas that we passed as those were out of our price range; Mike just couldn’t seem to part with $150 in order for a guy in a striped shirt to paddle us down a canal. So we took the slightly crowded water taxi and Dad sang for us instead. =)

Fifteen or so hours later, we landed back in Dakar (rather joltingly I might add – I think Mike hit his head on the seat in front of him) tired, yet bursting at the seams and raring to go. Never had I been so happy to see our D.A. kids stumbling onto campus to resume school. What a refreshing experience – to be reminded that what we’re doing is significant and to even be told that we are “heroes”.

Pray for me as I don my cape and do my best not to trip over any kryptonite…