The Pi Gwo Byen Way: Teaching Kindness, Respect, and Belonging

Every morning at Pi Gwo Byen begins the same way.

The children gather outside, forming rows in the courtyard as the sun rises over La Gonâve. Their uniforms are neat, their backpacks tidy, their faces bright with the energy that only children can bring at the start of a new day. Teachers stand among them, greeting each child by name, offering gentle reminders, adjusting a collar, tying a shoelace.

Then the Haitian flag is raised, fluttering softly in the island breeze. The children sing the National Anthem as the flag is pulled up the pole

Then,for a moment, everything becomes still.

This ritual is more than formality. It is grounding. In a country where so many things feel uncertain, that small moment of unity, of purpose, gives the children—gives all of us—a sense of steadiness.

After the flag, one of the teachers steps forward. Or sometimes I do.

We share a reflection. It isn’t long. Just a minute or two. A thought for the day. Something about kindness. Something about helping one another. Something about not hitting, not shouting, not harming. Something about trying your best. Something about being gentle. Something about being proud of who you are.

And then I call out:

“Ki Moun Nou?”

(“Who are we?”)

The children respond loudly, confidently, joyfully:

“Pi Gwo Byen!”
(“We are the Greater Good!”)

It is impossible not to smile when you hear them say it.

That simple exchange—Ki Moun Nou? Pi Gwo Byen—is the heart of our school, it is the heartbeat of our community.

Why We Begin with Values

For many of our students, home life can be difficult. Not because parents don’t love their children—they do, fiercely—but because poverty is heavy. When families struggle to find food, when fuel prices soar, when the country is tense or unstable, it is hard for adults not to carry worry in their voices and on their faces.

Children feel that.

They come to school with all the emotions they live at home—fear, stress, uncertainty, hunger. And if we begin the day by diving straight into lessons, without acknowledging their humanity, we miss something important.

So we start with values. We start with belonging.

Our morning reflections offer reminders that:

• we are kind,

• we are respectful,

• we do not hit,

• we speak calmly,

• we work hard,

• we help each other,

• we make good choices,

• we are a family.
  

These aren’t abstract concepts. They are daily practices.

When a teacher says, “Today, let’s focus on kindness,” the children know exactly what that means. It means sharing space. Sharing pencils. Sharing comfort. It means noticing when a classmate looks sad. It means trying again when something is difficult. It means remembering that every day is a chance to do better.

The Pi Gwo Byen Way begins long before the first lesson. It begins in the heart.

Teaching Nonviolence in a Culture Where Violence Is Normalized

One of the most transformative things we teach at Pi Gwo Byen is nonviolence.

Across Haiti, corporal punishment is still common in many schools. Yelling is normal. Fear is used as a motivator. It isn’t done out of cruelty—often it’s simply how teachers themselves were taught, and how classroom management has operated for generations.

But we do things differently. We do not hit children,we do not shout at them, and we do not shame them.

Instead, we talk. We guide. We encourage. We redirect. We explain. We model.

I’ve had teachers tell me that this approach changed them as much as it changed the students. When they came to Pi Gwo Byen, they were used to raising their voices. They were used to slapping hands or arms to get attention. But we were clear from the beginning: We don’t do that here. We can teach without fear.

And they learned.

Not only learned—they embraced it.

Now, when a conflict arises between students, teachers kneel down, look the children in the eye, and say, “We do not hit. We use words. Apologise. Try again.” The children repeat back the values they hear every morning.

Some parents even tell us that their children correct them at home:

“Mama, we don’t shout. At school we use our calm voice.”

 “Papa, hitting is not the Pi Gwo Byen Way.”

That’s when you know the message is working.

The Power of “ Ki Moun Nou?”

If you visit our school one morning, you’ll see something beautiful.

After the reflection, after the reminders about how we treat each other, after the flag, I ask:

“Ki Moun Nou?”

And the children reply:

“Pi Gwo Byen!”

They shout it with pride. With joy. With belonging.

That chant is more than enthusiasm—it’s identity.

On an island where children often feel invisible in the wider system, this moment tells them: You matter. You belong to something. You are part of a community that sees you.

It gives them a sense of self they carry all day long.

Teachers tell me they hear the children whisper it to themselves while they work. Or say it to a classmate who is upset. It becomes part of who they are.

And when you think about the challenges Haiti faces—economic hardship, political instability, natural disasters—moments of belonging aren’t small things. They are essential.

A School Family, Not Just a School

At Pi Gwo Byen, we talk about the “school family” often. But it isn’t just a phrase. It’s a reality.

Our teachers treat their students with genuine care. They notice when someone arrives hungry or tired. They pay attention to who needs encouragement. They know the siblings of each child, the home situation, the struggles families are facing.

Many of our teachers were part of the very first generation of Pi Gwo Byen students. They grew up with these values. They lived them. And now they model them for the next generation.

Older students help younger ones clean their tables after lunch. Children share snacks when someone doesn’t have one. Teachers hug children who need comfort. Parents visit the school not as outsiders, but as extended family.

And when one child succeeds—whether academically or behaviourally—the whole school celebrates.

This sense of family is one of the reasons our students thrive. They know they are safe. They know they are loved. They know they are part of something that holds them up when the world outside feels heavy.

What Belonging Means for a Child in Haiti

Belonging is a powerful concept anywhere. But in Haiti, it takes on even deeper meaning.

Many of our students face circumstances that no child should have to face:

• food insecurity,

• financial hardship,

• unstable home environments,

• limited social services,

• constant exposure to stress.
  
  

When a child does not feel safe, it is almost impossible for them to learn.

That is why the Pi Gwo Byen Way is so important.

• It offers stability where there is instability. 

• It offers consistency where there is unpredictability.

• It offers dignity where there is scarcity.

• It offers hope where there is hardship.

Every time a child repeats “Pi Gwo Byen,” they are claiming their place in a community that believes in them—one where they are valued, supported, and encouraged to grow.

This sense of belonging has ripple effects far beyond the school walls. Children carry these values home. They influence siblings. They soften conflicts. They model calm communication. They reinforce respect and parents notice.

They often tell us, “My child is different now. They are kinder. They are more patient. They help more.”

This is the transformation we hope for. This is education in its truest sense.

Where These Values Lead Us

The Pi Gwo Byen Way shapes everything we do. It shapes how teachers guide daily behaviour—with patience and respect and how students see themselves—with pride and identity. It shapes how families connect to the school—with trust. 

When children feel safe… they learn, they grow, and they become strong.

Looking Forward with Hope

Haiti faces challenges—economic, political, environmental. But every morning at Pi Gwo Byen, when the flag rises and the children shout “Pi Gwo Byen!”, I am reminded that hope is The Pi Gwo Byen Way: Teaching Kindness, Respect, and Belongingalive in our little corner of La Gonâve.

These children are learning more than reading and writing. They are learning who they are. As we look ahead, I am grateful.

Grateful for our teachers, who pour love into every lesson and for our students, who show resilience every day.

And grateful for our supporters, who help us keep the Pi Gwo Byen Way alive.

Together, we are building not only a school, but a family.

And every morning, when the children shout “Pi Gwo Byen!”, it is a reminder:

We are the Greater Good.