Meet Kari Westlund. My roommate for 3 days, yet a soul mate for what seems like ages. Inseparable since I arrived, Kari hustled me through months of development in our schools, showing me the ropes and guiding me through a grand tour of the city. From scrunched metro rides and market bargaining to chocolate treat binging and daydreaming. Grand dreams, beautiful dreams, what seems like anointed dreams. Dreams of opportunity, dreams for the children of Calcutta.
Over the last few months, I have slowly and with great struggle, walked through the pages of a great classic, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”. In the character of Francie Nolan, a young Brooklyn girl born into poverty, the bruises and beauty of life are illuminated. Francie’s mouth has yet to be filtered and her pure dialogue of life is a sobering reminder of the less beautiful side of society, of the still strong reality of the have and have not’s and begs the question of our predestined future.
In her critique of school, a system that has proven to be a little rough and unjust to poor students, Francie illustrates the simple nature of love in one teacher who has chosen to be just and in so doing, to be unexpected.
“ On a rainy day, she wouldn’t give a lesson. She’d take a block of paper and a stick of charcoal and sketch the poorest, meanest kid in the room. And when the picture was finished, you didn’t see the dirt or the meanness; you saw the glory of innocence and the poignancy of a baby growing up too soon.”
This is the nature of the people, the people I sit with, I work with, the men and women who I’ve only known by name and email, yet today I call them friends, neighbors, office mates and confidants. In just a few days I have come to know greatness, a greatness of character. I have been surprised by Joy.
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