Meng Kang
Cayo, Belize Central America
I
cannot forget the shock and panic that numbed my brain when I looked up from the story book I clutched, my last hope of getting St. Hilda’s Standard I (3rd Grade) class’s attention. In the span of a few seconds, one tall, scrawny boy somehow climbed over a row battered miniature wooden bench, its companion crippled writing desk, and the three students who had managed to squeeze themselves into the space in-between made to fit two, to grab another boy and punch him in the face. Thirty pairs of curious eyes trailed me as I dashed for the boys who had tumbled onto the ground together, but luckily Erin was already in the process of pulling them apart. The classroom exploded with students shouting various facts about the fighting boys, as well as echoes of “Miss, miss” that engraved itself in my head as the precursor to various headache-causing mischief headed my way.