I Do you believe in the power of one moment to fill you with happiness, over and over, every time you recall that moment? Well, I am a Peace Corps Volunteer from the USA living in Stepanavan and one day last spring I experienced one of these moments. Let me share that story with you.

So I take my seat right in the front row next to Don, where my little friend Aida is directing us. I am overwhelmed with joy. This stupid smile that I have had since I stepped foot into the school won't go away. The room is now packed with about 20 boys and girls from about 7 to 12 years of age, the majority of which seem to recognize me. Things are just happening:

"Hello!" is coming from all directions.

"Hello!" I return, almost spinning in a circle.

"Dennis I am Winter!" I hear from down below.

"Ohh, you must be cold!" I respond.

"I am December!" a little one adds.

"I was born in December, you must be good person!" I suggest. Hmm. Anyway.

This is exciting. I soon come to understand that this is one of those moments that I will recall forever. But I should be locked up, put behind bars... for at least a couple hours. I don't have my camera on me, and this is a crime.
Let me take you back 30 minutes. I am sitting in the newly opened Stepanavan library. Ruzanna and I are here as representatives of the Language Center, with Don, one of the other two Peace Corps Volunteers in Stepanavan. Today is the library's presentation on the Turkish genocide of Armenians which happened 90 years ago. It has been beautiful, the presentation. A young woman began the presentation by reciting the Armenian poem that I had actually recited before a crowd of seemingly hundreds during my training. But this was a different poem. She had in her voice strength, depth, a sense of history, pride. I had nothing. Now I am attentively listening to another young woman who is singing. Sounds are coming from her mouth that I wouldn't believe except that they are vibrating throughout my entire upper torso. I am hanging on her every rise and fall, pause, transition, on each breath she makes. She is wearing a bright red shirt that says, I WANT YOU! [to go away] She is perfect.

But I have to get out of here. I am meeting Aida in 20 minutes and I still have to catch the bus, and who knows when the bus will come. I start to shimmy out of my position in the back row, a spot I chose consciously to not make a commotion. I should have known. Anything I do is commotion. I grab Don and he follows.

"Wow, that was beautiful." I whisper now out in the hallway.

"Yeah," Don agrees.

It is not that the Genocide memorial is not important. It absolutely is. But it is the focus on the past, which is fine, but today not for me, that has me hopping onto the bus, heading towards Armenia's future, which is right now in School #5 dressed up as Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and all 12 Months preparing to show the WORLD how well they have learned English over the past year. And I am late.

But I made it on time and we are actually still waiting for the school director, who I had a couple of vodka shots with a few weeks back and who will later announce this fact to the entire room of students, teachers, and parents. I will only understand that he has announced this after hearing the word for 'cheers' come out of his mouth, the crowd turning to look at me, then me catching Aida's eyes that say to me "Are you crazy!" But the director arrives and they begin. And they are adorable.

Their English is mostly terrible with the exception of a few bright spots. But I can't get this look of amazement off my face. The courage, determination, where does their confidence come from? Even the awkward ones, how I imagine I might have looked at that age, pull it off. The plot of their performance is pretty straightforward. A young Armenian boy awakes in a strange place (where people speak English), Little Red Riding Hood and Pinocchio come to help him, then the Seasons and Months present themselves to the lost boy, and by the end the boy speaks English (though he can only say the seasons and months, HA!) The greatest part about the whole performance is that Don and I are the only ones in the room that understand!

And Aida is a star. Years beyond any other student in the play. She Is Spring, one of the 4 leads, and does this cute little dance while picking flowers off the ground. She is dressed in a magnificent green pajama-like suit with yellow and red flowers on it. And she has red plastic flowers wrapped around her head. She is glowing.

Don and I are clapping proudly (I don't know why we are proud, it's not like we did anything) as the play finishes up. Then I see her. The young English teacher who when she screams to quite a class, scares me, but now she is moving towards Don and I and I already know what is going to happen.

"Jeez!" I exasperate to myself.

"Dennis can you say something about our party?" I don't know why she called it a party and for a second it annoys me but I have just been summoned to speak to the group of children, teachers, parents, and the director, and I am not prepared. Simple replying "Nah, I think you can handle it," is about the furthest thing from protocol right now, but the closest thing to mind.

As I rise to greet the room I hear shouts of, "Speak Armenian!" You'd think that I would want to show these kids that learning another language is the cool thing to do, right? And I do, but I can't, and I freeze. My face fills with blood as I spit out some atrocious line like "soon the students will be able to speak to me," in ENGLISH not ARMENIAN! and I know everyone in the room is disappointed in me but all I want to do is sit back down and put that stupid smile back on my face and clap proudly.

I blew it. I didn't even get to turn to the kids and say, "That was one of the most courageous performances I have ever witnessed. Learn English, please learn English, but don't ever think that English is a superior language to your Armenian. Always remember that English is just a tool that will open so many opportunities to your bright, happy futures. You ARE the future, look at you, you are all perfect little humans that I AM proud of." And I didn't get to turn to the parents and say "You are the best parents in the world because you are here watching your sons and daughters today, and I believe that is the best thing you can possibly do for them, because I remember my parents were always there watching me, clapping for me, even when I was terrible like your children are at English."

And to the teachers, "I want to be just like you, you do the best job in world, and you are more important then the mayor,"

And to the director, "Why did you tell everyone we drank together? Ah, don't worry, your mustache is perfect and you are a great man for being here and showing that you care."

And to all before politely bowing out and retaking my seat gracefully, "Today was one of those moments. It was so beautiful, so powerful, that it will bring me happiness whenever I bring it to mind. Forever. And for that I thank you."

Dennis Price