Why educate girls?

It should come as no surprise that the most famous advocates for girls education around the world are women of color with one degree of separation from Beyoncé. Malala Yousafzai is most famous for reaching acclaim as a girls’ rights blogger for the BBC who was shot in the head by a critic bent on maintaining the status quo of a girl’s place in society – i.e., a mother and homemaker, with no use for education. Michelle Obama is perhaps one of the more famous and beloved first ladies of American history, and championed a Let Girls Learn Initiative while her husband was serving in the White House. Both women have worked tirelessly to ensure that girls all across the globe have access to adequate schooling and options for the course of their life.

Considering the strength of a girl’s contributions within the home, it should come as no surprise that educated girls and women have incredible and measurable impacts on their society and the human development of their communities. Considering that women make up just over half the world’s population, it makes total and complete sense that a community that does not invest in their girls is one that is far less efficient, economically stable, and less healthy. Research has shown repeatedly that “particularly in remote and rural contexts… [studies have] reaffirmed the importance and vital impact of educating girls for the overall development of society” (Somani, 2017). While all children who are denied an education are almost guaranteed to live in poverty for the rest of their lives, girls especially are at risk of succumbing to diseases (with HIV being particularly prevalent), becoming victim to violence, abuse, or human trafficking, and exploitation of all kinds. The children born to illiterate women are more at risk of disease and early deaths, or may suffer needlessly in a home without enough to survive; they are also far less likely to receive an education themselves (Unicef, 2004).

Consider this excerpt from a blog post I wrote over three years ago while living in Benin, a small Francophone country in West Africa: 

You probably know already why a good education is important. It's obvious in America what it takes to succeed, and while the game is always changing, you don't even get to play the game if you don't have a significant education. It's the same here in Benin, but it's especially difficult if you won (or lost, depending on how you see it) the genetic lottery that means you were born a girl. Aside from all the physical hardships  of menstruation and birth, being a girl in Benin means you're less than a second-class citizen. It is assumed from day 1 that you are less intelligent, less strong, less capable. I know this because I have had this argument more times that I can count. "Women's brains are completely different. They don't work as well." "Women don't need an education. Women can't work, because they have babies." It is a waste of money to educate a girl, because she cannot learn.


If this makes your blood boil at all, welcome to Benin. And that's just the start. Say a girl has a supportive family who will send her to school - she then has to find the money to pay her school fees, find the time to study in between watching her siblings and washing clothes by hand and going to the well to pull water for the house and cooking dinner. She has to hope that she can make it through the day without being sexually harassed by her peers and teachers, and hope that her teacher doesn't decide to blackmail her into sleeping with him for a passing grade. (It would make you cry to know what a common thing this is.) She has to hope she doesn't become pregnant if she is accosted by her professors, because once she becomes pregnant she is kicked out of school and shamed.

I wrote those words years ago while preparing a week-long girls camp in Northern Benin; I went on to bring three girls to that camp who went on to become leaders in their schools and communities. These are girls who, without the encouragement of an American stranger and the financial and academic scholarship they received from this mentorship, possibly would have been married and had children before they were sixteen. Without the encouragement of a respected foreigner, the education of these girls might have been seen as an extravagance ill-afforded by their families, especially as families lost the services a laundress, dish-washer, fire-tender, cook, housemaid, and babysitter. Some of these girls became closer to me than family, so their chance at prosperity and success was something that became very close to my heart. 

The education of girls has several gigantic impacts on all of society:

·      Educated women are less likely to die in childbirth – if all mothers completed primary education, maternal deaths would be reduced by two-thirds (saving 98,000 lives!)

·      Mothers’ education improves child nutrition – if all mothers finished their primary education, 1.7 million children would be saved from stunting from malnutrition

·      Girls with higher levels of education are less likely to get marries and have children at a younger age – if all girls had a secondary education, there would be two-thirds fewer child marriages and 60% fewer girls would become pregnant under 17 years of age in Sub-Saharan Africa and South and West Asia

·      Education lowers the pay gap between men and women and ensures more women find work

The United Nations states that access to education is a basic human right, regardless of gender or wealth. Considering the UN published this publicly in 1948 and this gender disparity is still disturbingly prevalent clearly communicates that our current status is not aligned with our optimistic goals. Unicef’s flagship publication, The State of the World’s Children (2016),  focuses on the particular ills that are born out of child marriage, particularly in the rural areas of sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia. Anjelique Kidjo writes that, without significant progress, “almost 950 million women will have been married as children by 2030” (Unicef, 2016). These young women have no agency over the shape of their lives and become especially vulnerable to domestic violence and loss of control regarding safe sex and family planning. As stated elsewhere, these young women are much more highly at risk of sexually transmitted diseases, risky pregnancies, and a higher chance of infant mortality upon delivery. With few other options, many of these women pass this lifestyle on to the next generation, perpetuating a cycle of poverty and misery.

Thus, a girl’s access to education is crucial for both her and her society’s improvement and success. While we can begin to address this vast inequality through investments in girls education, mentorship programs, community service initiatives, and training of educators, we must also engage int hat slow work of addressing and transforming our social attitudes about the worth of a girls education.

References

Somani, Tabreek. (2017). Importance of educating girls for the overall development of society: A global perspective. Journal of Educational Research and Practice, Volume 7, Issue 1, pp. 125-139. Walden university, LLC: Minneapolis, MN.

Obama White House. Let Girls Learn. Retrieved from

https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/letgirlslearn.

UNESCO. (2013). Education for all global monitoring report fact sheet: Girls’ education – the facts. Retrieved from https://en.unesco.org/gem-report/sites/gem-report/files/girls-factsheet-en.pdf.

Unicef. (2004). The State of the World’s Children 2004. Retrieved from https://www.unicef.org/sowc04/.

Unicef. (2016). The State of the World’s Children 2016. Retrieved from https://www.unicef.org/publications/files/UNICEF_SOWC_2016.pdf.

USAID. (Last updated 2018). Girls’ Education. Retrieved from https://www.usaid.gov/education/girls.

Camp Glow 2015, or what it's like to be a girl

Hey you lovely little turtledoves, I hope this finds you well and enjoying your pretty Spring. (If you are in a place that is spring-like that is. I hope you are enjoying your respective weather conditions wherever you are, all you other people!) I know I have a lot to tell you, and while I will probably never get around to half of it, right now I want to talk to you about Camp Glow. I know I know, we've already done this. But please bear with me, it's a whole new year and the stakes are a little higher because this year, it's my baby. I am one of two directrices that are in charge of getting this thing off the ground, and naturally I will be needing your help to do so.

You probably know already why a good education is important. It's obvious in America what it takes to succeed, and while the game is always changing, you don't even get to play the game if you don't have a significant education. It's the same here in Benin, but its especially difficult if you won (or lost, depending on how you see it) the genetic lottery that means you were born a girl. Aside from all the physical hardships  of menstruation and birth, being a girl in Benin means you're less than a second-class citizen. It is assumed from day 1 that you are less intelligent, less strong, less capable. I know this because I have had this argument more times that I can count. "Women's brains are completely different. They don't work as well." "Women don't need an education. Women can't work, because they have babies." It is a waste of money to educate a girl, because she cannot learn.

If this makes your blood boil at all, welcome to Benin. And that's just the start. Say a girl has a supportive family who will send her to school - she then has to find the money to pay her school fees, find the time to study in between watching her siblings and washing clothes by hand and going to the well to pull water for the house and cooking dinner. She has to hope that she can make it through the day without being sexually harassed by her peers and teachers, and hope that her teacher doesn't decide to blackmail her into sleeping with him for a passing grade. (It would make you cry to know what a common thing this is.) She has to hope she doesn't become pregnant if she is accosted by her professors, because once she becomes pregnant she is kicked out of school and shamed.

And you thought doing your long division was hard.

And that's why we have Camp Glow: a week long camp in which we cheerlead these girls to believe that they are worth something, worth more than anyone has ever told them before. That they have rights, that they are protected, that they are beautiful and smart. That they have every ability to grow up to be fighter, an accountant, a healthcare worker, a mother (when they are ready), a president, healthy, a role model. I can give you stats, and numbers, about how much greater a society can become with the support of supported women, but I don't think it's necessary. I can give you all kinds of details about what we do at Camp Glow, and I will below, but I hope you don't need that to know that encouraging 50 village girls to be better is a good thing.

Click here to find out more and to donate today. 

Camp G.L.O.W. Parakou, 2015

What is it?

Camp G.L.O.W. (Girls Leading Our World) is a week long camp for exceptional girls, selected by Peace Corps Volunteers, to come together and learn how to be leaders among their peers and receive education about important health and social issues affecting their communities. Camp G.L.O.W. is a Peace Corps initiative that started in Romania in 1995 with the purpose of promoting female empowerment. The program came to Benin in 2004 and has been widely successful; current volunteers are encouraging and educating promising young females all across the country.

What do we do?

Throughout the week, girls will live on a technical school’s campus and attend sessions that target vital public health concerns, emphasize the value of education, focus on developing life skills, and encourage creativity and critical thinking. Topics include: finding safe drinking water, sexual health, study skills, career planning, leadership, entrepreneurship, creative writing, and domestic violence. At the end of the week, girls will collaborate with their volunteer to discuss the ways they can bring what they have learned at camp back to their villages.

Why do we do it?

Most of the girls who attend Camp G.L.O.W. will have never before left their village or region. They will have their first experiences with touching a keyboard, picking up a paintbrush, and being told that it’s not OK for a husband to hit his wife. The girls will be mentored by adult Beninese women who have been selected for the exceptional example they set as professional, progressive women as well as older girls (junior mentors) selected from last year’s camp as outstanding participants. Most importantly, the girls will be surrounded by positive encouragement. They will not be hit, they will not be constantly sent out for chores, and they will be reminded that they are special and valuable.

How can you help?

Camp G.L.O.W. is financed through the Peace Corps Partnership Program (PCPP). The project is posted online where friends and family of participating volunteers can come together to collectively finance the demand.  Please follow this link: www.peacecorps.gov/donate and search our project name, Camp GLOW 2015, or number, 15-680-020, or the last name: Harper. You can read project details and contribute with your credit card directly through the site. If you have any additional questions concerning the budget or activities of the camp, please feel free to contact the camp director Camille Harper at coolhandcamille@gmail.com. If you are interested in sending supplies that we would like to use, but do not have access to in Benin, please contact me as well.

If Benin were your home instead of the United States...

Wanna see something crazy?

And again?

http://www.ifitweremyhome.com

Texts From Last Night, (+229) Edition

My friend Nell saves all her texts that are funny. I made so much fun of her when I found that out, but the other night I found myself going though my own inbox/outbox, and I found more than a few gems. (Yes, I am aware that sounds a little cocky, very 'oh look at how funny I am!') And as I was reading through them, it struck me what an oddly clear lens my texts are as a way to view my life in Benin. Some of them are silly, some downright bizarre, some just completely unexplainable. But I'd kinda like to share them with you, so you can see my strange day-to-day experiences, and judge me if you want. I didn't ask my friends for their permission, so if they ever see this, I'm sorry but our lives are too ridiculous not to share.

Me: OMG IDRISSOU JUST TOTALLY TOOK OUT THE ROPE ON ONE OF THOSE DOUCHEY FAKE POLICE STOPS WITH HIS CRAZY MOTOCROSS BIKE. It was an accident but it was so badass. The fake gendarme just crossed his arms and gave us an angry look. It was so great.

[So, all over the bush there are these guys who like to pretend that they are the military, usually complete with fake guns and sometimes military garb, and they try to charge money to pass as a kind od informal toll booth. I don't know why they do this because everyone knows that they are fake and no one ever pays, and I've never had a problem because they know that white people, who they just assume are working with the government, are not required to pay fees and tolls. But still, you get a kind of satisfaction when they are bested, because they are usually really annoying and terrible people.]

Sierra: Our meme tiss is so good.

[This is SUCH a volunteer thing to say. So 'meme tiss' is basically volunteer-french for the same tissu, or fabric. Beninese people love to get matching tissu, so naturally volunteers jump at any opportunity to get matching tissu. Also it's usually a nice close mate kind of thing, which is why Sierra and I made the specific effort to find a good matching fabric to represent our proximity and awesomeness.]

Nell: Babies doing or wearing adult things is always adorable. Full bomba plus shoes on a four year old? Might be my favorite thing.

[A bomba is the full tissu outfit, shirt and pants for boys, shirt and wrap skirt for girls, and it is pretty rare to see a kid wearing one. Actually, it's super rare to see a kid wearing pants, so when you see a kid all dressed up for church or whatnot, oh man it is the cutest.]

Me: I woke up from a nap in some rando's concession surrounded by kids making flowers out of toilet paper. It was some serious Martha Stewart shit.

Nell: Do you think you'd be happier in this country if it weren't so damn hot all the time?

Literally Everyone: Resend!

[Because I have terrible service, and because a lot of other people have terrible service, often times you'll get half of a text message, or a few straggling words that don't make sense. So at least once a day I shoot out a text saying simply, 'Resend!!' It's not my favorite. My friends are very patient with my lack of service.]

Nell: I know it was your dream to shit your pants in a fancy PC car, but throwing up might be just as nice.

Sierra: I appreciate your faith in the magic chicken box. You hold on to that :)

[So, Sierra and I were walking through Kalale one evening and out of nowhere there appeared a lighted rotisserie box, complete with rotating skinny chickens. In the middle of the bush! Out of nowhere! I was so amazed, and now we are constantly marveling over the unlikeliness of a rotisserie chicken box in downtown Kalale.]

Nell: Also have you really thought about finding a tooth in your food before? That's never crossed my mind before. I should probably be more grossed out than I was.

[Shudder.]

Raili: I'm on an ATT bus with no tv. Dreams really do come true!

[So, we northerners have to take a looong, 8-14 hour bus ride when we go down to Cotonou. Most of the busses are overcrowded and have no air conditioning, and you stop once at the halfway point to buy avocado sandwiches and oranges. While all of that sounds pretty bad already, usually at some point a guy will get on and preach for HOURS about his magical juice with sticks in it, which corrects anything from a cold to erection troubles. Honestly it doesn't matter what they are selling because they are just yelling forever about something or another, walking around, trying to engage the white person. I ignore them as hard as I can, usually to no avail. But the worst part is that oftentimes the bus driver will put on some video, a Nigerian soap opera, Ghanain music videos, whatever it is, but as LOUD AS POSSIBLE. It makes an already painful ride that much worse. So when you get a bus with a broken tv... Ahhhh, heaven.]

Nell: You're obsessed with your best friend. Who is a cat. Maybe this country is a bad influence on you. In a bad way.

Me: The accountant just poked my belly and said, 'is that a baby in there or is it ignam pilee?' Neither you jerk.......... it's cookies.

[Oh, Beninese body issues. So, here in West Africa, it is a compliment to point out someones weight gain, or to acknowledge someones heft. I wouldn't say that I'm hefty, per se, but I'm certainly not waifish, and I can not tell you how many times people have poked me in the belly, or asked me if I'm pregnant, and told me how fat I am with pure joy on their faces. If you are fat then you are healthy and well-fed, so I get that idea. But I don't love when people tell me, 'Oh Pamudo, you're so fat! Did you visit your husband recently? Are you pregnant? Felicitations!!' Shut up jerks. So what if I just ate an entire chocolate bar...]

Lizzy: Ugh is it september yet?

[OH MY GOD, I think this almost every day. We are just hanging on until September.]

Nell: Right? A no nap day is a wasted day.

Sierra: You know in Mean Girls when Regina can't fit into her prom dress and the lady tells her to go to Sears? That's how I felt at the tailer's today.

[See above and our body issues. Also, how on earth are you supposed to manage your weight when the ONLY things to eat here are carbs and starches? You know that whole food pyramid thing? I'm lucky if I get an onion a day, not to mention the countless servings of fruits and vegetables suggested. So yeah, moving to Africa does not mean you get skinny. I've made peace with it.]

Of poop and cats and soccer

Real fast I just want to spend a second apologizing for my lack of updating. I’m not going to bother making up an excuse, although if I did it would be along the lines of “it’s too hot! I’m too not-quite that busy! I was busy reading every silly novel I could get my hands on!” In the spirit of being a good blogger, I’ll give you an actual update on my life this time, instead about waxing poetic about Big Thoughts. (Because this blog is more me yammering on about whatever “poignant” thoughts are rattling inside of my head than any kind of coherent or useful rendering of my life here, this will probably be far more useful and informative than most of my posts. You’re welcome!) 

I just got back from Parakou a few days ago. I came bearing the way-too-much stuff I’m usually dragging around this country, as well as a giant sack overflowing with soccer balls. Soccer balls?! Yes! I have started a girls soccer team/club. It’s equal parts let’s gather weekly and talk about girl-type problems and why boys are bad and why you should study and grow up to be the beautiful, intelligent, and successful women you absolutely can be, with some soccer thrown in. It, like almost any other volunteer-driven activity, is kind of a mess, with me bumbling around in my french with these big ideas and then being met by a sea of wide-eyed girls staring back at me uncomprehendingly while they wait for their teacher to translate my french into french. But, as every country in the world that is not America knows, soccer speaks a universal language and it doesn’t matter that half of the girls don’t speak french and that my Fulani is limited to “Good morning, this tastes good.” Everyone knows what to do with a soccer ball. I have an infinity of wishes and hopes for these girls and this club, and if a fraction of them come to any kind of fruition than I will be very happy and proud. 

I think I’ve alluded to my latrine project, in which we will construct 18 self-composting latrines all around the village, giving every single person access to a latrine (as opposed to pooping out in the open, which I’m sure you can spend way too long thinking about why that is a bad and terrible thing). Other the last few months they have slowly been going up, bricks made, doors added, the mason walking around town and heckling me for running about and always being on the way to somewhere else. If you are surprised that this major project, that I have barely mentioned, is already on the eve of completion, then you know exactly how I feel. These latrines have completely snuck up in slow-motion at me, and though I know in my head that that is ridiculous, that I am there to watch them grow from sacks of concrete into corporal buildings, well… I guess there’s a metaphor for my entire Peace Corps service hidden somewhere in there. You watch every minute ticking by so slowly, then you look back and see how far this road stretches and the math just doesn’t add up. I guess, in the latrine project’s case, my part hasn’t really started. I’m not an engineer, I can’t design a composting latrine, but my engineer friend can! I’m not an accountant, I can’t pull together a budget managing many many thousands of dollars, but my accountant friend can! (Actually I can, and did a little bit. But I digress.) I’m not a mason, I can’t build a structure out of nothing, but my mason friend can! But now my cue is quickly approaching, and here I find myself standing on the wings preparing for my part in this community drama: talking about poop! I am on the precipice of having many, many, many conversations about poop. Shit. Caca. Feces. Defecation. My mother is incredibly proud. I can joke but it’s actually pretty cool that my village wants to be the cleanest, prettiest, healthiest village ever, and that the road to that goal is paved with the absence of poop everywhere. I can teach, and lead, and help my village make and enact big awesome ideas, and will! 

That’s the best definition of a Peace Corps volunteer I can give you: we’re not masons, we’re not engineers (actually, some of us are), but we are leaders and guides and friends and big-idea facilitators. Sometimes we have the ideas, and sometimes we take the ideas of others and make some calls and find some money and hire some people who do know what they are doing, and maybe it sticks. I know a lot of things about how to be healthy and civilized, some from very selfish places, but if they fall out of my pocket and mean something to someone else, then that’s not nothing. I don’t hold any illusions that I carry a massive weight on my shoulders, but I do hope that I can pass along these little nuggets that create the kinds of small changes that snowball into something bigger and better. Maybe that’s not how it will actually turn out in the long run, and this whole development thing is actually the mess people say it is, this white guilt change-the-world save the babies thing that people say. Maybe it’s just a strange social experiment with no measurable results. But maybe I will have planted these small seeds that grow into something, and continue to grow after I’m gone. And that’s not such a bad thing to hope for, I think. 

I have other things going on too, of course. Soon you’ll be hearing from me about Camp Glow, which I am directing this year. We’re working on the grant and getting more and more excited about it, and I’m sure I’ll come knocking on your email and Facebook doors, asking for money. I find myself getting more busy as the time grows shorter, which absolutely anyone could have anticipated but still manages to surprise me. I’m sure the next time I find myself wandering on here I’ll tell you all about the bike tour we have planned, in which I and a handful of volunteers and very enthusiastic Beninese partners bike a not insignificant distance, leading trainings in villages along the way. Sierra, my close mate and co-conspirator on this project, and I are competing for the position of Not The Most Pathetic Biker, but as we have waited for the hottest part of the year I think it will be a close call. We keep each other going by day-dreaming about what spectacular physical specimens we’ll be by the end of it. (It’s only four days, mind you, but let us have this one.) 

And, if you guys would be so kind, please send happy thoughts my way. My darling and dearest little gentlecat has been missing. I fear he has been eaten, which unfortunately is not a joke. (I say it jokingly in order to keep myself from actually believing it because, really, it IS ridiculous.) It’s only been a few days, and I hope that when I go home this afternoon that he will come meowing out with a good story, but like any good catmom, I worry. 

Spirals and Tidepools

I want to tell you something about the Sneaky Hate Spiral. The Sneaky Hate Spiral, SHS, is this never-ending circle of things being annoying and irritating, and because of that you get more annoyed and irritated. It starts out like thus:

Something hits you, or you have a bad day. Some times these are isolated incidents: someone says something mean, your stomach hurts, something you were really excited about failed in a glorious show of catastrophe around your feet. Sometimes, this incident of catastrophe jumpstarts the SHS, and that bad day makes you so annoyed and irritated that lose all hope in the system, yourself, your village, whatever. And because you've lost all hope, you spend the whole next day hidden in your house because your kindle never disappoints you and everything else is the worst. Then that causes you to feel guilty, and to be scared of leaving the house the next day because you're scared somebody will say something nasty about how you didn't leave your house the day before. So then you spend two days in your house, or you avoid certain people that you like the most and don't want to hate you, then you feel guilty and terrible and like a big fat failure. And because you feel so lousy, you become more annoyed and irritated, and want to go out and do work even less. After a few days of this, you try to convince yourself that it's all Benin's fault, that it's right to close yourself up like a hermit because that's perfectly acceptable in America. It's weak, and you know it, but you go with it. But after a few days you feel even lousier.

Finally you break out of it, or get a break, and you have a good day, and all of a sudden Benin is this magical, motivated place with so much potential. You become satisfied with your work, which makes you want to go do more the next day, and you set up meetings and plan out formations, and those go well, and they lead to other work, and because you're so happy to being doing work you're glowing and happy and optimistic. Then something hits you, or you have a bad day....

I think you get it.

At the moment I'm in that right between space, clawing my way out of the sneaky hate part and into the everything's gonna be great part. Also I'm kinda venn diagramming, because simultaneously I'm also right in the middle of a completely different Spiral, the Never Satisfied When You Know Theres Something Else Is Out There Spiral, the NSWYKTSEOTS.

The NSWYKTSEOTS goes like this: I kind of always dreamed about Peace Corps, so I built up this huge great adventure, this idea that I could live in a cool place, use my talents and experience for the greater good in a community that needed me, gain skills along the way, travel. Those are all true things, but after about 6 months you get complacent, because thats just what happens. So you start dreaming about being in America, being able to go to book stores and drive and having a nice kitchen, meeting friends in coffee shops and eating mexican food with your parents. But then, when you get to the place where you are doing that, the America of your dreams, when you're all settled in and recovering from your last adventure, just happy to be in a place thats home and normal, 6 months pass and you get bored of that. You start itching for your next adventure. You want to go aimlessly traveling. So you do, you quite your job, or you save your money, and you go hop around Asia for a while. And that's great, relaxing and interesting and fun, but you feel selfish because while you're having a blast you're not contributing to the world. So you start to cast about how you can find your next great adventure, this idea that you could live in a cool place, use your talents and experience for the greater good in a community that needed you, gain skills along the way, travel... You look for your next Peace Corps, so to speak.

You see?

And as if one of those weren't enough, I'm being thrashed about between these two whirlpools like a guppy, almost to the point that I'm scared that I'll never find that nirvana part, that place where I can do all these things and be all these things and have all these things. What if I've spent all this time in Benin just dreaming about how delightful America is, only to go back and be disappointed and bored? And what if that drives me to another place, only to be bored with that in 6 months? What does this mean for my future?

These are the things I think about when it's late and you don't have electricity. I guess it's not the biggest problem, considering that that world is my playground. But still, it's worth a good ponder. 

Fielding Odd Questions

The other day I walked into the office that I occasionally work in, carrying my lime green water bottle. I sat on the edge of the desk, as I only had a couple of questions to ask the accountant of the ONG. While he was finishing up his work, he glanced at my water bottle and asked me if there was mary-wanna inside.

Huh? I asked.

Mary-wanna. Mary-wanna.

???

Mary-wanna!

OH! Marijuana! No, I did not put liquid marijuana in my water bottle before coming in to work today, thanks buddy.

It's in moments like these that I don't know to be the American who can correct and instruct, or the American who is ignorant and innocent.