Until PoP.

Shane and his classmates at the American School in Taichung (AST), Taiwan spent the last couple months learning about PoP, Phayong Village, and the fact that children across the world are living without an education.

With the help of their counselor, the seventh graders at AST pulled together their resources, their ideas and their compassion. They came up with the idea to do ‘PoP Fridays,’ picking a school supply each week to bring in for the kids in Phayong.

The coolest idea? Pencil cases!

The kids in Phayong, some of the poorest in this country, have very little to call their own. What they do have, they bring back and forth to school each day in a plastic garbage bag.

But now, thanks to a passionate group of Taiwanese seventh graders, every preschooler at Phayong school has their own case, for their own school supplies. (Not to mention a whole lot of stickers and fun art supplies!)

Way to go, AST! This is what it’s all about. Making connections, empowering each other and together, facing the education crisis head on.

Shane definitely said it best: “We know that we each only gave a little, but if everyone gives a little, it won’t be just a bit–it will be huge.”

I look at Adam, sitting cross-legged next to me. “I’ll eat your face if you drink my lao lao.”

He looks down at the boiled chicken head in his hands. “Deal.”

We are in Phayong village, the site of our second and third schools, celebrating their completion. To show their thanks, the village elders and provincial officials have invited us to participate in a basii ceremony, a traditional Lao offering of good luck and good health. Sok dii.

The room is dark and packed with village elders—their faces dark, stoic, smiling. We sit around a small table covered in cups of lao lao (homebrewed rice whisky) chicken pieces, bananas and sweet potatoes. As we hold out our hands, they speak in a low, melodic Lao and fill our palms with food.

The leader of the ceremony knows some English and translates bits for us. He says they are thanking us for the school and wishing us many blessing in all we do. He tells us to set down our food (a key opportunity to tuck away chicken heads), and motions to hold out hands at chest level, palms up.

The room fills with a slow murmur of Lao chanting. Though we don’t know the translation, the deeply felt tone fills us all. With hands out and palms up, the village elders reach for our wrists. They look in our eyes and offer their blessings. We are surrounded by them; our wrists pulling gently in every direction. Every elder ties a white string to each of our wrists while they speak with heads down and voices low.

The gratitude and intimacy of their voices, these strings, makes my breathing shallow and my heart beat quicken. I look at Adam, his face deep in absorption of this moment, and tell him I will need a huge hug when this is over.

When all the strings are gone and our wrists are covered, everyone sits to eat and we celebrate the new preschool and primary school of this village, for these compassionate and amazing people. My palms are sweating still from the intensity of it all.

We raise glasses of lao lao, look at one another, and cheers with each person. Good luck, sok dii.