We made it a point to volunteer in our travels. I’m ashamed to admit we got lazy in South America. But in Asia, we tried. We really did. But for one reason or another — there was a large fee we had to pay or they wanted us to commit to six months or more — every opportunity evaded us. (There was that one time we bought medicine for a poor man in a Laos village, but that’s a really long, complicated story I’d rather not get into here.)
In the end, we realized that if we wanted to do something, we needed to get a bit creative and offer our time in a more basic way. No organizations, no red tape. This is that story.
Our interests have always lay with helping kids. If you could hear our squeals when we see Asian babies, then you’d know we’re obsessed. But we’re against donating toys or playing games, and we definitely don’t condone orphanage visits unless we have long-term plans. There’s something to be said for brightening a child’s day, of course, but what kind of lasting impact does it have? How does that increase their market value to break the cycle of poverty?
We know English. We can teach English. We also have money. We can buy school supplies. And that’s what we did on two really eye-opening days in Mawlamyine, Myanmar.
Among the list of questions to ask the guesthouse owner, Mr. Anthony — “how much is the bus to Taungoo?” and “what time does the market close?” — was the most important one: “Do you know a school where we can practice English with students and get them school supplies?”
He knew a place — St. Joseph’s Convent, a school and home for children who’ve been displaced by government actions. (Myanmar is home to many people of the Karin minority, a Christian-faith ethnic group that has been persecuted for many years.) So he phoned his friend, a nun at the convent, who arranged a time for us to come.
We didn’t quite know what we were getting into. Would we help with homework? Would we be assisting a teacher? Would we be conducting a round of English sing-a-long with toddlers? As we walked into the classroom on the first day, it was clear that no, no, we’d be playing teacher for two hours.
There was the dry erase board. There were the waiting students. Go.
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