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The
public grade school of La Palma, El Salvador sits on top a hill.
From its courtyard I can see for miles, forested hills and then
mountains surrounding us on all sides. Now in mid November we should
have been a month into the dry season, but the rains keep coming.
This morning is a clear, a rare break, and most convenient for the
graduation ceremony scheduled shortly. Tomorrow a tropical depression
will move on shore from the Pacific and drop a foot of rain that
will flood the rivers down on the coastal plain and kill hundreds.
Today diplomas will be handed out to students completing kindergarten
and the ninth grade. All students first will parade down the hill
to attend mass at the
parish church. The principal does not hesitate to invoke Gods
blessings on all.
The small graduates are dress in mortar board caps, gray capes and
white gloves, each one being escorted by a proud family member.
So much hope and promise.
And so the graduates walk the five blocks to Mass along narrow streets
lined with old adobe houses, the clay tiled roof lines merging in
a continuous line. The bullet holes in the walls have long since
been plastered over. The rest of the grades had assembled already
on path leading to the church door and applauded vigorously at their
arrival. Throughout the liturgy and prayers emphasized the nurturing
role of the community toward the students and a shared sense of
admiration and responsibility.
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