Damn.

What an intense, weird day.

It was just my second day back to real teaching, after Phase 3, vacation, and 1.5 weeks of exams. I woke up extra early this morning to plan my maths lesson, since I had a double period with my Form A's (all 117 of them) to start the school day. I had two cups of coffee. Little did I know, I would do little actual teaching today.

I wore my Orioles hat to school. I've never worn a hat to school before, but my principal did the other day, so I realized it's okay. At morning assembly kids stared at me like I died my hair pink... I guess I should be used to this level of fascination by now. I decided I'd use the opportunity to tell Form A all about the Orioles and how "awesome" they are (I would conveniently omit that they're currently an MLB worst 2-13). But, instead I spent 20 minutes ushering the kids to get into their @&#!ing seats and get out their books. I had gotten as far as writing "Baltimore" on the board, when I lost my patience and told them I'm scrapping the story. I yelled for a while, I might have said @&#!, and they eventually behaved. After 20 minutes of decent behavior, they began to act horribly again. I calmly walked out of the classroom, refusing to allow myself to get too irritated. It's only the second time I've ever walked out, and it freaked them out.

Five minutes later, a few ambassadors found me outside, apologized, and begged me to come back. After some thought, I gave in. I then instructed them, "Raise your hand if you want to learn, get up and leave the room if you don't." I told them I would not try to teach them if they didn't want to learn. Every hand went up, and I resumed teaching. After what was already a really eventful morning, I thought I was finally in the clear, but I couldn't possibly have predicted what was about to happen.

I had a very functional class for about five minutes. It was great. I felt like I got the point across (indeed, maybe I did). I was writing something on the board about angles and degrees, when in the back of the class, someone screamed very loudly. My eyes rolled, thinking there must be a rat. But the tortured screaming didn't stop. I turned around and saw students crowding together as panic spread through the room. I pushed my way to the center to find a young girl, Mabatho, screaming and convulsing. Students were laying her down on a bench. Slowly she stopped screaming, but the seizure continued as her eyes welled with tears. Some students removed her shoes and held her feet, some students were stretching her arms out, one boy was trying to rapidly wobble her head around. Most were just standing on desks trying to see what was happening. It was complete chaos. I yelled at a student to go get the other teachers, I tried to back people off. I tried to get Tsepang to stop moving her head all over the place. I put my hand on her side, gently but firmly, trying to gauge how severly she was shaking, and, maybe, to comfort her. As she began to move a bit less, I told her she was OK and to try to relax. Soon, every teacher was there, and the entire student body was trying to get a good view. Most of us teachers went into crowd control. Gradually the chaos died down, and we carried Mabatho to another room with a mattress.

She lay there, keeping herself remarkably composed, and speaking very little, for about an hour. I spoke with the PC doctor, who instructed us to bring her to the local hospital. An hour and a half later, three of us did. Over the course of a few hours there (skipping my science class, by the way), I learned that she also had 3 seizures last week, and that she has a family history of epilepsy. Sure enough, she was diagnosed as epileptic and was prescribed anti-convulsive medication. Clearly, this was an absolutely awful week and a half for her (especially considering that through it all, her mother, the only parent at home, has been in South Africa, probably completely in the dark about this). Let's hope the drugs work.

After the dust settled and we drove her to her house, I returned to school in time for a soccer game with about 20 students, plus a few teachers and other locals. In another completely out-of-the-ordinary twist, I actually played the whole game (albeit 75% as goalie). Who knew I play soccer, and against Africans no less? It was a perfect way to clear my mind after everything else. I reached home shortly before dark, buried myself in a tub of peanut butter (note - thanks Lof for sending me gourmet PB, it's excellent, though probably cost you a fortune to ship), and, in one final deviation from the norm, I ate a kiwi.