I used to have what I called "teacher nightmares"

where I'd jolt awake with an anxiety attack.
Example Dream 1: forgetting that I had a class when it was observation day.
Example Dream 2: screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the room with no one paying attention or listening.
Example Dream 3: kids hitting each other and starting wrestling matches in the middle of the floor while one girl pulls her pants down and pees in the corner and another girl secretly steals the art supplies we brought and starts screaming when someone tries to take them back,...Oh wait- this one was real.

This is a daycare in the Red Light Area run by a local NGO. Becca and I "taught" an art and English lesson. It was quite the lesson for us, though. My experience went pretty much like this: "'hm that's not working, let's try something else.' and then 'Hm, I think it's time for something else.' And then 'Okaaay, moving on. And finally, 'wow, I really wasn't prepared for this.'"

The class ended with one boy dislocating his toe and then screaming bloody murder as the teacher proceeded to put it back in place. It was this moment that the rest of the children were most attentive.

The class consists of boys and girls whose ages range from 4-15.
What unites them is that they live in the brothels with their mothers.
They handle conflict with each other violently because that's what they see.
What will become of them?
Well, as I tentatively observed the row of brothels from behind the car window as we passed by, I saw ladies hanging in doorways and calling down from their balconies-- and not only men but schoolboys in their teens walking in.
And the daughters?
This is the point where we stop thinking and start claiming promises. "He will beautify the afflicted with salvation." The burden is too much to bear ourselves.

Because we have our eye on two who attend the daycare: "Priya" and "Anna" - whose mothers are hesitant to send them to a hostel. They are worried about "visiting rights" and the girls ever "knowing their fathers." Yes, mothers say no. They are so conditioned that they can't even imagine a better future for their children. Or it may be that they fear violence from their pimps for giving away such valuable goods.

The new PR home opens in two months--God willing. During this time, our outreach workers will visit these ladies and try to gain their trust. The result would be a completely new destiny not only for their daughters, but generations after.