Some of the inner-monologue

I want to write something light and insightful. I want to tell a cute story that sums it all up. My first week of service. What to say about it? It was awful and hard and exhausting. I could say that. But don´t say that. It will seem like you are glorifying yourself, or worse, looking for pity.

It was fun and exciting and challenging. I could say that. But don´t say that. People will think that all you do is fun and games. I can´t believe you are spending a year playing tag with 8 year-olds. (I play a lot of tag.)

Talk about the boys. Talk about just one boy. Which boy? Luis? I do spend the most time with him. His behaviour covers the spectrum. It´s wild and unchecked, mostly uncheckable. Sometimes when he cries, I feel like he´s screaming against the whole world. When I put him in timeout, he kicks and punches his way out and hides under the table.

And when we ride on the bus to school in the mornings, he wants to hold the tickets, thin strips of paper with the time, the fare, and the bus line printed on it. He smiles and rolls them between his fingers. He shows me his toys and the drawings he does at school.

That should do it. It´s quick and it doesn´t have any hard to swallow details. I can`t tell these boys´ stories. I don´t know their stories. For now, I´ll stick to what I know.