Kipilefti

The teacher in charge of teaching the chemistry lab sessions is taking advantage of the good weather. The classes are too big to fit in the lab, so they stand in a U shape outside my computer lab, facing the teacher. As he holds up objects, they say the names in unison. Young voices yellng “beaker!” “test tube holder!” are my company throughout this week.

This week has had its ups and downs. Up: I made my first successful bread. Down: my margarine was stolen from my kitchen–they pried open my kitchen window, which I’d thought was firmly closed. Up: I enjoyed teaching some of the classes. Down: they stole my margarine! It’s ruined two days, I’ve been brooding and raging about it for a while. It’s much easier to replace than the potato masher, but I felt so sure that I had solved the problem and the room was secure.

And so now, like I do every week, I’m killing time in the lab before I go to teach, putting in some school time so they don’t forget I exist. “Buret. Buret. Buret.” the students chant outside my window like some strange cult of chemistry. I have two eighty-minute periods left in the week, one in fifteen minutes and one at the same time tomorrow. I like my schedule, the way it ends on a relaxed note, only one period on Thursday and one on Friday. And I like that the periods are both before chai: I can teach, drink my chai (if the school ever buys more sugar), and then do errands.