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Welcome back reader 😊😊. I hope this entry doesn't get to you as hard as it got me, and I apologize in advance for the tears that may fall across your face, and the feelings to follow.

The day is Tuesday 12th of January, 2010. It started off as a regular day, sun out showing itself out with a blue sky, with clouds together, and birds can be heard chirping. Now I didn't really live in the country, but how my house was set up there was a lot of vegetative life, and I can hear birds which was quite therapeutic at times. Anyway, I was getting my day started. As that was happening, I had noticed a USB cable I needed, but for later, and meticulously remembered where it would be at, and left it there. Not like anyone else would need it anyway.

Fast forward post shower, and getting dressed for school, I was on my way there. Felt like a typical start of the day, especially considering it would be a fellow classmate's birthday. As we got in class, we sang to her happy birthday, and the simplicities of such wishes attached, and proceeded to our regular scheduled program. We still had some fun in between, plus with teachers, them being lenient a bit given we were seniors, and it was her birthday also. It was really a good day filled with laughs and positivity.

I was in the class committee, active as one of two treasurers, whilst a friend of mine who became like a brother was the class president. I've known him for many moons, and even here living here in Canada, we still close and keep in touch. We had days we would drive back home, and often times if we have a meeting after classes, at the end of the day, we would be walking back home. That day was the latter.

After our meeting, we stayed a few minutes to chill but also hang around a bit. Our principal was there also, we chatted a bit with him about a few things we were considering for the school, and activities to get the okay for. Our principal was quite heavy set, but his weight wasn't keeping him from being active in our lives as a teacher, mentor and a person we can brainstorm ideas with. It was time for us to leave, and we said our byes to him, as we headed our way to go home. He had to stop by the bank, which I went with him, then split and he went his way.

When I got home, I started off my laptop, went upstairs to change from my uniform, grab the USB cable and go about my affairs. Now, as I told you, the cable was left unattended, and wouldn't be bothered by anyone but myself. I look for it, not found. I think to myself, maybe it's a few feet away or other, but nope. A few seconds followed and I hear a woman's voice faintly saying not to move and to get under the table(that I was near). I question it a bit, and she repeats verbatim her previous words. This time, I followed her words and went under the table. A few seconds pass, and then ... it all happened. A pressure going up and down on my head, then it all started shaking and everything before my eyes and body feels I was trapped inside of a movie and it all shook to a point where destruction happened. What felt like forever, windows opening and closing, the balcony falling, a study room being filled up with rubble and books all over and me tucked under a table a few feet from a glass mirror where I almost could've stepped on felt surreal. The room I was in, barely any damage, but as soon as I walked OUT of it, the mirror that wasn't held safely fell over. I was shaking, and scared to go back downstairs, but had to. When I did, the room I had left my laptop to start up, was covered in rubble, brick, dust, and the table. Thinking to myself, I almost died. Still under panic, not knowing how my neighbour was, I was in the road, and heard they died, they were a mother and daughter ... then ... the aftershocks. Not knowing what to expect I just crouched on the road, and panicked. It still felt surreal, then my phone vibrates and my cousin in Florida texted me to check on my updates because he saw what happened. Somehow there was hope, but I noticed our towers fell so I couldn't reply.

Nice seeing you again reader 😊😊. Whether you're one to celebrate it or not, make a big fuss about it or not, I'm sure you're appreciative to see a new year and focus on better positivity for this one to lay foundations for a better lifetime to live through.

Now, I know what you're saying, "you must really like food to be starting off your new post with food Mr. E. Especially to start off the year, huh?" Well, to your question yes I do like food 😁🤣. But there's also a specific reason I'm starting with this dish that may not seem like much.

The pictured dish is called soup joumou, as this entry's title reads. It's a hearty butternut squash soup that also has beef, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, yams, malanga (which is a rooted vegetable), turnips, celery and a few other things, that's very hearty and fulfilling enjoyed by Haitians regardless where they're to mark the date when Haiti gained its independence from France.

To give you some knowledge, once upon a time Haiti was under France's control, and slaves banded together to have an uprising whilst being led by a former slave named Toussaint Louverture. The battle started on Monday the 21st of February 1791 until Sunday 1st of January 1804 where it's known as the official date to be recognized as Haitian independence day & the soup is consumed.

A little extra piece of knowledge, in some Haitian households, ironically enough, ritually and faithfully certain families would have the soup when they start off their day. Of course the soup would most often be cooked prepped up the day prior to be better enjoyed on Sunday. Now, I know if you're not Haitian, don't have knowledge of Haitian cuisine, or just know you have breakfast differently, to consume that as breakfast on Sundays would be common without a shock to some.

The soup itself can be eaten alone as the picture shows. Though, there are those who prefer to enjoy it with fresh, or warm baton Moïse (Moses stick). It's the pic shown below, which in a way is the Haitian baguette, if you may. Definitely hits different and better than sliced bread [not sorry 🤣🤣] and it definitely fills you up

The richer part of the soup, and how far it extends especially, is that Haitians who are known for being all over this planet (to give you an idea, I know of a Haitian family in Aussie/Australia) & they have their soup on the 1st. By the same breath, Haitians even being in Canada, USA, Belgium, even the UK enjoy it. What's most interesting, and a profound thing to account is how other cultures, or other people OF other cultures, especially of a certain country, scout for soup also. I know this year of a few folks I've met the year prior, were on the hunt like us for some good soup. Some were even given by different people. The soup is also a great way to bond with folks, and brings so many things together.

Nice to see you again reader 😊😊, last time we spoke about manje (food) and machanns. On the difference in how they carry their produce to sell it to folks, but also how they would sell their non-GMO products to folks.

As much as I talk about food, you'd think I'm a gluttonous heavyset fella, when in actuality I'm a bit slimmer with a big appetite. I just enjoy food 😁. What's actually intriguing with food is how it can unite us in a harmonious way, such as a particular genre of music, and brings us closer, but it can also give us a rich history about the country's past, but also of the foods in that particular dish, but also how picky the eater could be as well 🤣.

To break it down a bit. I gave both names in kreyòl and translated it as well, for better understanding because I know not everyone is able to speak one of my native languages, but also to keep it alive as though Im purple/pink looking one, sòs or sauce which would be the equivalent to gravy, and some meat. The juice might be grenadia, passion fruit juice freshly squeezed at that 🤤🤤, the stacked up fruit is mandarin oranges, and lastly, in front of the napkins might be a cold macaroni salad. Credit goes to https://shsroundtable.com/opinions/2013/12/16/10-rezon-ayisyen-sipoze-fye-de-tet-yo-10-reasons-why-haitians-should-be-proud/ as they've shared a nicely written article that might be intriguing to anyone interested.

To break it down a bit. I gave both names in kreyòl and translated it as well, for better understanding because I know not everyone is able to speak one of my native languages, but also to keep it alive as though I'm passing down the history to others, kind of what I'm doing, but let's not get deep in that topic.

To go back on the food, salad russ is a mixture of carrots, beets, mayo, and a few other ingredients. The vegetables are boiled to where they can still be mixed together, without being boiled until they can be mashed, especially since they're all rooted vegetables. Just don't be too flabbergasted after tasting it you enjoy it, and have purple looking piss though 🤣. Our version of mac and cheese is done completely different than the Southern US one from the noodle type used, to the cheeses used, and a few other ingredients fixed into it, plus the baking time as well. The dish is quite scrumptious and fulfilling. The diri kole, rice and beans, though it may seem it's brown rice, believe it or not it's actually white rice that was simply cooked with the beans and some other ingredients that added flavour to the beans and when they got "together" (or kole) is when the rice went from white to a brown hue. [I might make another post about some rice dishes and how they different across the island and other, we'll see ☺.] The sòs, though it may seem a lot, it's quite good and done a bit differently than a regular gravy. I'll share how it's made or could be made next time, but I'll mention it's flavourful and has onions, too. The plantains ties well with the sòs, and the whole food, same way the sòs itself can enhance and add extra flavour with the rice or other, so it's not a measly "gravy" substitue. The fruit isn't really to be eaten with the dish you fix yourself, but a dessert if you'd like for when you're done eating completely.

Now I hadn't forgotten the juice, I left it out as best for last. Generally, juices are freshly made, and personally more enjoyable than some bottled versions. Freshly made in the sense of you buy the grenadia (passion fruit) from the machann when you deyò (out), go back home, cut it open, dump the seeds and inside in a blender, with a good ratio of water, then sugar and blend it up. Strain it and add it in a pitcher, leave it in the fridge, or already add some ice and put it on the table and enjoy. I can still taste the childhood in nostalgia when I used to drink it back home 😊😊.

I had spoken of snacks such as fresco (shaved ice with syrup), papita (fried plantains cut length wise, sprinkled with salt), fritay (fried foods such as fried plantains, but smashed in a chip form, fried hot dog, griot which is pork bites, pate kòde which is a salty turnover, or think empañada), and even sugar canes 🤤🤤🤤.

I know to some reading that they'd think : "You ain't mentioned nothin' healthy in all this, sir." 😂😂 I'm not saying, nor promoting, just eating unhealthy and not being considerate of local and fresher foods.

As I've shared prior about machann, who is a seller, can and would be selling any of the things mentioned above, but there would also be those who sell fresh fruits, some vegetables, and other foods, on the side of the road.

The panyes vary in sizes as you can see from the chart above this text, and some machanns would have them lined up around them with other machanns who have their own produce there, to sell you the customer. Now, I know some of the wordings, and maybe some of the fruits may be unfamiliar to a certain extent, but to see them in that basket I will and can tell you they were picked from either the tree it came from, or out of the ground, non GMO. [Disclaimer: Just want to remind you, I'm sharing of what I remember growing up, memories of my childhood and how the farmers would sell and their land wasn't tainted by GMO seeds and etc. If it's changed between my childhood, and this entry, I apoligise in advance if it may seem I was blindly misguiding you, as it was NOT my intention. Thank you.😊😊]

The cool thing, to me anyway both as a child, and just being appreciative of such freshness, was to see the colourful market place be filled with those baskets and seeing fruits and vegetables be there before you to buy and enjoy. There would often be some machanns who would and could sell you as you walking on the street because some would be walking with a panye from the list within their head. Not something for the weak 😬😬.

Nice to see you again reader 😊😊, sorry I've been gone for a while and left a little void. Between last post, and this one quite a few changes have truly occurred and things have evolved both good and bad, in between.

Within our last post, we shared and dove into knowing about Livres en Folie, which is a fair that promotes literacy of Haitian literature, but also a fair where authors, generally Haitian ones, would sell their books, some also before it's out for the general public with the possibility of getting to meet them and have both an dedicated copy with the chance of having your picture taken with them.

I'll admit I wasn't that much a bibliophile in my youth, though there would be some comics content I enjoyed. During the festival I did see faces that would be unknown to me, mainly due to the disconnection in ability to relate to their works, though it was mainly because I simply didn't know of them. Evidently, if on one side of the coin some weren't known, I would know some of the others.

Those I happened to know weren't specifically due to being necessarily a STAN, having familiarity with their work or limited in being told of who was who at the table, or under the tent.(Reason I say tent is because that festival would happen around summer, and despite the fact we already live in a tropics weather, the heat would be more unbearable and lethal. 🥵🥴) I would have met them because some happened to be the parent to certain kids I've known, especially classmate, they themselves were my teacher. This one year there was a high school teacher who was telling us he's going to attend as an author, and not an attendee, not to hesitate to come by, get a book(even though we would be shameless plugging him with our parental figure 🤣🤣) take pictures and an autograph with him.

However, there was this one author in particular, I met her as my godmother being mutual person of interest between us. That author is definitely one that always would stand out to me, though I wouldn't say we had a form of bondship to feel I can brag about (or maybe I wasn't seeking to establish one 🤣🥴) but would say 'hello' out of respect for being an elder, and friends to a woman who was like a maternal/godmother figure. That author was also very well established and wouldn't miss any of the days of attendance during that festival.

Peace and hi reader,

I would like to apologise for my absence, and neglect on not writing as much as prior. A few things have been going on, and also a bit more research has halted my writing. No worries, nor fear, a new post will be up and coming on Saturday. Hopefully you haven't forgotten about your favourite enigmatic persona.

Welcome back reader 😊😊, last time I shared about both the HS side of SLG but also about some fairs we generally have. I mentioned two of the major ones which are Musique en Folie, and Livres en Folies.

This post I'll share about the latter, which was a fair more for the bookworms. The fair started out in 1995 by one of the local banks and one of the popular local newspaper named Le Nouveliste. The fair would yield in many visitors both foreigners, but also natives of the island in huge crowds. Due to such a big size, it would always occur at the local country club named Cercle Bellevue, which is where my nostalgia takes me to when I think back on it. Alas I wasn't able to find accurate pictures of it to paint a better picture. It was quite a nice local.

☝🏽 ☝🏽 ☝🏽 ☝🏽 That right there ☝🏽 ☝🏽 ☝🏽 ☝🏽 that's the traditional logo for it. Most often it would be featured in the newspaper when it's closer to the days. Upon the days of the event it can be visible various places, plus the sponsors, filled and mixed with the scent of air, grass, popcorn, hot dog, burgers, cotton candy and the sounds of music, chatters and kids having fun could also be heard as well.

Traditionally the fair would occur around June, so the cool breeze of summertime makes enjoying that event that enjoyable, though often the heat would make many sweat and its high humidity, even when outside, be felt. The staff would generally be a mixture of folks from the newspaper or the bank, but also of other businesses, but there would be volunteers, often their kids, or just teenagers looking to do a little gig/work experience for teamwork and etc.

As I had pointed out, gingerbread architecture is synonym to Haiti, not limited to houses, but also some schools. Albeit, I'd like to mention SLG's high school/secondary isn't of the same architecture, nor even in the same town, and is way bigger plus actually has grass within its campus, as well as has been a place to host different festivals, or events. Of those events would be Livre en Folie (Book Festival/Fair) where there would typically be Haitian books of all genre, but also an opportunity to meet your favourite author, get an autograph from them in your favourite book by them. Coincidentally, a few would also promote their new book that's either to be released, or will be released. A few I knew, a few would be new faces.

Besides Livre en Folie, there would also be Musique en Folie (Music Festival/Fair). Same as Livre en Folie, but music based, though of the CDs that would be sold, it wouldn't be limited to Haitian only, but for the most part, evidently yeah you'd get your Haitian artists. Funny thing, I had seen T-Joe (check the picture below), but never got to chop it up nor get an autograph; *if you remember and been keeping up, I told you the nickname 'ti' is another way to say 'lil' for us, right? Well, he really is Jr. actual name Joseph Zenny Jr.* But another year, where Musique en Folie was held somewhere else, I did get an autograph, and a few months later I was walking somewhere around town, ironically he was on an ATV and saw me, waved hey first, it was pretty cool feeling.

They did other events at that school, but won't go into all that presently. As I said in the first paragraph, they had a different architecture there than the one downtown, there local was located uptown, it wasn't per se in a bougie ara, but it wasn't in no slums either. Now the pic I'll have attached will show primarily the school's classrooms and some of its yard, plus leaves from trees. Obviously this pic dates pre quake, but also shows you a glimpse from the outside of it.

Gingerbread architecture design is synonymous to Caribbean, Haiti in particular. This isn't to say there aren't buildings of dissimilar designs, but when you think or hear someone speak of gingerbread houses, and Caribbean in the same sentence Haiti resonates, also.

Now I know what you're wondering. Yes, the first two pics are "sink" & urinals for us to drain the snake at. Granted it was in open air, but you had to hustle and move, otherwise it's ya ass Mr. Postman, 🤣 (R.I.P. John Whisterspoon). Not much room for privacy so you better watch yourself if you're going to do anything outta pocket. I'm using an unedited pic for the court for a few reasons, but the most basic and simplistic reason is to just get to see it without any form of obstruction as I've spoken shared about that area. Oh, quick extra foot note. The last class on the bottom row, under and behind the stairs, was where my only favourite teacher was. A sweet and caring old lady. Warm and positive, definitely gave me an energy who I could confine myself to if the school gets to me. Now the fourth shows the other side of the school, and its other playground where some of the boys would play soccer, or wait to be picked up by their parents or sister who would be in this all girl catholic school. *I might touch on it in a later setting.* There's also a bar. Now by bar, it's a snack bar. You could buy some juice or water, sweets, some other miscellaneous things or a ham and cheese with some ketchup sandwhich. The sandwich wasn't served on sliced bread but a small long bread, think a baguette but softer and smaller. I definitely enjoyed buying and stuffing my stomach with them 🤣🤣🤣. As for the last pic, that's where the cafeteria was located. Not under the leafy roof, but within the building itself.

As you can tell, it was a big school to accommodate both staff, as well as little heathens attending it. The bar wasn't limited to students but to staff as well, but you'd mostly see kids getting something there, even when some had their own lunch. As I may have said, one class was filled up with the sardines, and the course work would be a lot, even if you're merely in the third grade. Kids would and had to remain in their seats, there wasn't easily individual attention given to a particular pupil to make sure the lesson is understood.

Welcome back reader 😊😊,

Last post I had shared about a building where my godmother used to teach, and I'd have fun drawing on the green board🤣, but also the same building I'll end up seeing again, but as a student embarking in his scholastic endeavours.

Welcome back reader 😊😊,

Previously I shared about a man who was an author, among other positions held, that advocated for black unity and the call for power for lower class up against those in a higher social echelon, who may be financially better. But also talks on reconnecting to African roots, not just to be aware of your African lineage, but also of considering voudou (voodoo) as its own religion, over the European one placed upon us.

In case you don't remember his name, it's the one in this week's title 😝, he's the one in the first pic. I had mentioned I'd be doin this week's post a bit different than my normal postings. As you see I've actually started off with two pictures and not by my general greeting, but also not limited to just one pic. The first is to show Jean, or Price *yes sounds similar to the English 'price' noun*; under his pic is a building that dates pre earthquake *Reminder on Tuesday 12th January, 2010 at 16:53 local time, or 4:53 P.M.* That building is the front of my elementary school, but you might be wondering why am I showing it, or is there a reason it's there? Yes there is. Prior to starting my educational studies, and as I've shared prior, I used to always be with my godmother when she was in Ayiti, and among the things she was involved in was being a teacher.

Within the area where you see the pillars like a balcony over, that's where the University named after Price, but also where my godmother used to teach. For blog and my own purposes, I won't speak of post leaving the school, nor share pictures post earthquake, I will next week share other pictures to have a better visual to what I have mental imageries of.

As I've said, the balcony area was where the university was. She was a teacher there, and it was quite interesting. She would teach there later in the evening and would go back home with her later at night. Of the staff at that school, was a man who later on became president of Haiti though through interim, Boniface Alexandre if you're curious to know. The establishment itself wasn't ran by the priests of SLG, and was its own entity, thus the dress code for teachers weren't the same.

Allow me to take you on a little journey. Green arrow is basically where you walk in through at. Since we going to the university we turn right, and there you'd see other rooms, and around there's stairs to go upstairs. From there you can walk and go where the yellow arrow is pointing at. My godmother's class was the purple one. So I can watch outside from inside, or if I'm outside by the ledge. I was always in the classroom near her like her shadow. As a young kid, and slightly mischevious one 🤪, I'd often erase her notes. She'd always have me go back in the corner because she'd wonder why the students would burst out laughing as she's being serious. She would have a little section drawn there and say :"That's your area you stay there." 🤣🤣🤣

Welcome back reader 😊😊,

Previously I had shared about the misfortune of a kid who was disciplined by his manman in the school, but also in front of his pwofesè (teacher), who turned a blind eye to it, because he had done something he shouldn't have.

This week I'm going to do things a bit differently. History is often dissected as "his story" and paints events from a winner's viewpoint or lacks inaccuracy, but can also be stories where knowledge and wisdom, good or bad, is passed down, learned from. I'm about to do the latter and share for this post a particular pic that ties with me in both the sense of my own country, but also to black history within itself, also.

Ayiti, or Haiti, up until Sunday the 1st of January, 1804, was under French control, thus the inhabitants of the island followed European ideologies. From cultural assimilation, meaning European language, European ways, religion as well . Thus disconnecting from their African roots, and no longer having their own identify but a European one. The same way slaves in Colonial America weren't allowed to read, nor write, those there couldn't either, which resulted in lost authentic history and remain rooted.

Welcome back reader 😊😊,

On my previous post, I shared about how French and Creole are our native languages, and would still learn how to speak them better in school, but also touched on how kids can be disciplined.

As I've mentioned, the teacher would typically have a wooden ruler that was quite long to discipline a disobedient, or a child who needed to be disciplined due to something bad he's done. No matter the teacher, as homogeneous were the ladies in uniform, is as the same they had wooden rulers throughout their classrooms, and disciplined the child(ren) that was out of line. Though, something occured on one mid-day.

It was recess and I had decided to stay in class, didn't feel like going outside, and was speaking with the teacher and other. All of a sudden, however, a mother came in the classroom to speak with the teacher. Teacher and said mum were talking, everything seemed to be going alright, but then mum questions her child. I'm wondering if it's to say something positive, or is it to do something motherly had no idea. 😶😶😶 Was I wrong 😐😬.

As her kid came in, her demeanour switfly went mum mode. Ya know, that mum look where yo momma clenches her teeth, lips tight like a Gerber's lid jar, and looking as though smiling is for the weak? Anyway, THAT face was the new facee that she had, with the sun blazing away during that period.

The kid had apparently lied on the teacher, but also about certain other details, and the mum wasn't happy about it. Physically, she knows she was there with the teacher, and had noticed I was there too, but the child and her her were tunnel visioned, as though it was just the both of them during that moment. She inquired why did he make false claims, and etc in regards to his homework, the teacher (who I should mentioned was a sweet older lady) and etc. Maaaaaaaaan, she said God doesn't appreciate lies as such, and how he was out of line and wrong about it.

The mum look evolved into an angry and mad ball of fire embodied as a mother. The worst part, oh yes it got worse, was that the mum had yelled, but also expressed disappointment in regards to her kid's behaviour, by the way not in a saddened tone, still in an angry one, she told him to take off his belt. Of course, the child was crying from the verbal jabs he couldn't escape from, was timid and shaking removing his belt, a leather one that was black. He was timid cause he knew it might be his gluteus maximus on the line, but eventually gave it over to his mum. Again, the teacher was physically there but when that mum had started the jabs, it was as though there was no one else. She took the belt and proceeded to spank his hands to learn a lesson. Sadly enough, she let him know "we shall end this later when you come home." 😬😬😬 Pauvre, pauvre jeune homme. (poor, poor young man 😐😐😐

Welcome back reader 😊😊,

On my previous post, I took you on a little journey in how a day at the school generally starts, typically with a Our Father prayer, where we stand up, head down, and the teacher leading the prayer and the day starts

I had also shared when it came to our maths. We would get mental math to sharpen our analytical maths cortex 🤣🤣🤣, getting in the routine of doing those quizzes, one swiftly gets to do maths like a wizard of great skill. I admit, not really the best about it, but am able to do quite well 😄😄😄.

I don't particularly remember most of our classes, I'll touch on how come in another post, but some of our subjects were grammar, vocabulary, but also Creole. By Creole, we had to learn of its structure, alphabet, everything as it's a second language we're learning to being able to speak it. Some kids had some basics of it cos they spoke it at home.

French and Creole are Haiti's two official languages, but some families deemed it as disrespectful and rude to speak Creole towards elders, especially between certain circles and family members. They believe French was/is the key to properly engage and will unlock doors as you get older, becoming a citizen to society, internationally speaking, and local as well. It's not that they typically shun away of the Haitian culture, but wanted the guarantee that the child has a good French speech.

There are some parents, especially grandparents, who felt the child would and SHOULD speak French, even if he's being spoken to in Creole, because that's the righteous way to go about it, and shouldn't do other because it's a lack of respect. I've met this one kid, siblings included, whose grandmother was a French teacher and was strict on the French with him AND his scholastic focus, more than the typical parent making sure the homework is done, or knowing by heart the lessons.

To get back on the school. As any school, they had disciplinary consequences if you, as a student, do something that was the teacher deemed needed to be fixed or did something that was not right. I remember a year something happened where I, and some other students were the unfortunate victims. The teacher literally had a thick, wooden ruler. If any of us reacted, well better man up about it. As she got to the last kid, the ruler broke and the bell for recess rang. She said :"When you guys are done with recess, I'll finish." We all were worried, and when we were outside in the yard during lunch, we saw the groundskeeper had walkd to our class with a new, thicker, smooth wooden ruler. Let's just say after lunch, the kid got his, and she stopped on him.

On my previous post, I shared both about how I figured my direction in the scholastic world, and a quote. I'll share about both, but one at a time.

As I said, the priest had called 50 boys who would end up as classmates, and from there we all had to form a single file line to head to our respective classroom. Of the things, he let us know was a bell would ring and it's expected of us to line up, regardless of order, as long as we were to be ready and in order to head to class for our long extensivee subjects.

As you walk in the classroom is the teacher, she would have a spotless and bright conservative white blouse alongside a pair of bright blue skirt, similar to the Haitian flag funny enough, along with heels. The teachers were a medley of young middle aged, but there were some also seniors. Of the old ones who had a grandma energy, was another 1st grade teacher. I'll admit she was who I rather was my actual teacher, as mine wasn't it, and wasn't into her teachings, but appreciated how it panned out to be. Their uniform was a staple still embedded in my cranial over X years ago ������.

To start the day off, as it is after all an all boy Catholic school, we started our day with "Our Father" prayer. I'll admit I didn't know it, lesser in French, so good thing the teacher would always say: "Ok time to bow our heads, close our eyes for the prayer", and fortunately my voice can "drown" within the sea of other voices. On the other hand, don't ever be late and walk in whilst they're praying ����. Obviously, yes I'm speaking from personal experience ������. Let's just say, great thing she only said, next time you know you'll be late, just wait outside.

Following the prayer, the next class/subject would vary depending on the day, but the coursework would and could be extensive and and a bit tedious. Mathematics being one of them, because as early as 1st grade, you learn the basics and how to do it, no problem. But then comes the mental pop quizzes. Literally, she would let us know put everything away, and you knew she about to give you numbers and arithmetic signs of equation like a lotto number to analyse off your dome, nothing to be written down, and finding the answer. I admit I loathed that malarkey as a kid, I didn't feel I was getting to focus well on it.