Perfection does Exist

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kellynamibia20150530d There is a saying that I am sure everyone knows, “There is no such thing as perfection.” I believed in this saying wholeheartedly growing up. Perfection was something worked at, but never accomplished. However, stepping out of the van today, for the first day of school, left me in a state of perfection. Emotions are sometimes difficult to produce into words when they are so strong, so impeccable, I will try my best.

In contrary to the lack of sleep I believed I was going to receive that night, I slept like a baby. The bed was comfortable and noises outside were enough background noise leer me right into dreams. Breakfast wasn’t talkative, but no one seems talkative at 6:30 in the morning. To be honest, I had a nervous feeling lingering in the pit of my stomach which is odd for me to feel. I have done many practicums and observations and have succeeded naturally. However, the School of the Visually impaired left a subtly different taste in my mouth. I am not implying that I am not extremely excited to teach in the States because I am, this feeling was just ambiguously different, I am sure the reader understands. To try and illustrate: knots of pure love with a mixture of unknowingness. The assortment can leave on lost in a transaction of thoughts.


UW-Stevens Point made its way to the School of the Visually Impaired, (they drive on the other side of the road here so that’s a culture shock). I saw students dressed in uniforms swarm the van we resided in, and the concoction of emotions had left my stomach and traveled up to my throat, where it was warm and uncomfortable. You may think that I fell ill, however when they opened up that door and I stepped down all the craze in emotions resided and I felt the situation to be labeled as perfect.


kellynamibia20150530eSounds from the outside world ceased to exist and the situation took control of everyone’s lives. Student’s hands found mine and grasped with strong emotion, as though they had known me their entire lives. Thank yous were spread around like wild fire and hugs were given uncontrollably. Every one of those students desired attention, a will power to learn. Pointers had made it, and standing there that day, without knowing a single name of a student, I understood the significance they would have on me as a growing individual, my teaching career and my soul.

A young first grader, whose name I know now as Emily, who is albino and is in the first grade, beckoned for me to bend down and wiped water from under my sun glasses. She stated, “Oh how I love when the American angels arrive, and these are tears of happy, I know.”

I would not be able to dream up, a more perfect beginning.


Kelly Mares, an elementary education and special education major, is blogging about her study abroad experience in Namibia, Africa.