It's official, my teaching certificate was hand delivered to me Wednesday morning by Principle Tara. It sits proudly on my desk along with two stacks of student's papers; one to be graded and the other to be filed. Every time my eyes catch those words, "Official Teaching Certificate", inner turmoil arises. i have no training, no experience, and no teaching material, yet i am in charge of teaching these 14 kids the foundation of their life. What the paper should say is, "Certificate of Untrained Day Care Assistant".
My class roster is as follows:
1 - student who is on vacation
2 - students who will not listen to a thing i say, enjoy picking up trash, taking out the trash, sitting in from recess, PE, and computer class, and are well behaved only when threatened by a phone call to their parents
1 - student who does no work, does not speak, stares blankly when asked a question, and has forgotten his homework every single day
1 - student who still does not know their numbers
9 - students who are perfect angels only when the two troublemakers are not in the classroom, but mildly out of control the rest of the time
From 8am-3pm i spend most of my time repeating, "Sit down, speak English, shhhh, why are you out of your seat, do we need to talk to the principle" when what i should be saying is: God is love, 98 - 89 = 9, 'A' is pronounced 'aaaa', things that grow are living, etc. Even though i struggle with discipline on a daily basis (hourly and minutely as well), i'm still sad to see my kids go when the bell rings. In the two weeks that i've been here, the progress made in their ability to listen, learn, pay attention, and appreciate free time has been astounding. No matter how unqualified i feel, i can see that i'm qualified through God.
The frustration of unruly children is overpowered by the enjoyment of seeing my kids excited to see me. Whether its in the grocery store, church, before/in/after class, swimming at night, or just walking down the street, a student is nearby yelling "teecha" and wanting to see what we're doing. Their ability to put a smile on your face makes up for every scowl that they put there during class.
A few unrelated updates: The poverty cheese is almost a third gone already. The boils have been lanced and are healing. Night fishing is happening tonight, booties will be worn. We have met the island dentist and surfed at his house. We sat through a three hour long all Kosraean (not English) church meeting tonight. Dr Shasta Cola makes the greatest burps. Richard the Rooster has been documented crowing at all hours of the day/night proving our hypothesis that he has a case of severe "island time". Hotcakes are not good, especially covered in peanut butter, ice cream, and watered down syrup.
Good morning USA,
Tyler
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Urchins and Boils and Eels Oh MY!
All of my creative juice has been harvested and stolen by 13 grimy, loud, and most importantly precious first and second graders. They must have also stolen my good judgement as well because this week has been filled with choosing danger over fear and safe choices. As a result, this post will be brief and fact based.
Monday afternoon, the bell just rang and the bus pulls up to take our kids. Pastor/Principle/Parent/Provider Tara calls me over to his house. It was a rough day with many misbehaved kids. This can't be good. "Loren called, surf is good, hurry up and go!". (mind you, this could mean anything from 2 foot to 20 foot surf, depends on what they mean by "good"). Hop in the truck and drive 15-20 miles (yes, this little 42 square mile island has more than 10 miles of road) to Malem. Its big. Poor Ryan and River, its big. Paddle out in the rip current, sit in the line-up, oh great this is bigger in person. Matt Simpson whispers "this is only a 4ft swell. oh, and watch out for the shallow section at the end of your ride". Here goes nothing, it gets bigger, start paddling, its even bigger, drop the 10 foot face, almost eat it, saved it, life is good, that was big, line up again, i'm hooked. A rogue set washes through and eats River and Ryan whole (i looked back to see boards flying in all directions). We almost finished the entire night unhurt, thank you God. Remember the shallow section? As I was paddling in for the night i found it, shredded a finger and ended up with a boil on my ankle. But we're alive.
UPDATED on 9/19/13 at 10:50PM: My fingers have begun to sprout boils as well.
Side note, but related to poor judgement: we have acquired something we like to call "poverty cheese". While grocery shopping at ACE hardware last night we purchased a little cheese. Got home and looked at the receipt to realize that he now have $30 worth of American cheese slices in our fridge.
This short post has turned into a long one, so here is the short story of our trip across the reef. River and i set out for a late evening ocean soak that ended up as a barefoot death march. Since it was low tide we decided to walk across the reef instead of soak in hopes of finding stranded fish. Instead we found creepy snake like anemones, poisonous eels that stalked us, large sea urchins (River found one with his foot), very large hermit crabs, random locals appearing from the ocean, and a miriad of other creepy crawlies. The sea is a different place at night. Quote of the night, "Do you know what I don't like? This moving grass". i poked the grass as these words were flowing from my mouth and out popped a foot-long eel. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, so we're going again tonight.
We're alive,
Tyler
Monday afternoon, the bell just rang and the bus pulls up to take our kids. Pastor/Principle/Parent/Provider Tara calls me over to his house. It was a rough day with many misbehaved kids. This can't be good. "Loren called, surf is good, hurry up and go!". (mind you, this could mean anything from 2 foot to 20 foot surf, depends on what they mean by "good"). Hop in the truck and drive 15-20 miles (yes, this little 42 square mile island has more than 10 miles of road) to Malem. Its big. Poor Ryan and River, its big. Paddle out in the rip current, sit in the line-up, oh great this is bigger in person. Matt Simpson whispers "this is only a 4ft swell. oh, and watch out for the shallow section at the end of your ride". Here goes nothing, it gets bigger, start paddling, its even bigger, drop the 10 foot face, almost eat it, saved it, life is good, that was big, line up again, i'm hooked. A rogue set washes through and eats River and Ryan whole (i looked back to see boards flying in all directions). We almost finished the entire night unhurt, thank you God. Remember the shallow section? As I was paddling in for the night i found it, shredded a finger and ended up with a boil on my ankle. But we're alive.
UPDATED on 9/19/13 at 10:50PM: My fingers have begun to sprout boils as well.
Side note, but related to poor judgement: we have acquired something we like to call "poverty cheese". While grocery shopping at ACE hardware last night we purchased a little cheese. Got home and looked at the receipt to realize that he now have $30 worth of American cheese slices in our fridge.
This short post has turned into a long one, so here is the short story of our trip across the reef. River and i set out for a late evening ocean soak that ended up as a barefoot death march. Since it was low tide we decided to walk across the reef instead of soak in hopes of finding stranded fish. Instead we found creepy snake like anemones, poisonous eels that stalked us, large sea urchins (River found one with his foot), very large hermit crabs, random locals appearing from the ocean, and a miriad of other creepy crawlies. The sea is a different place at night. Quote of the night, "Do you know what I don't like? This moving grass". i poked the grass as these words were flowing from my mouth and out popped a foot-long eel. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, so we're going again tonight.
We're alive,
Tyler
Saturday, September 14, 2013
The Deep Dark Sea
Once upon a time on a small secluded island, three men lived alone (in their apartment). These men were students by profession, teachers by day, and brutal hunters by night. They did not choose this life, this life chose them. Forced to eat white rice and ramen at every meal (or maybe just dinner) they became protein deprived cold-blooded animal killers.
Day after day (Wednesday-Friday) they braved the 200 yard walk/swim/wade/crawl/shuffle across sea grass, coral, and rusty kitchen knives to reach the edge of the world: the deep dark sea. Donning snorkel gear and vicious, pronged spears they methodically (sporadically) stalked their prey deep into the ocean, to no avail. The sky looked bleak for these daytime hunters. Not only had nothing been caught but the daily storm would turn the usually blue sky pitch black drowning their snorkels with sheets of rain making it nearly impossible to see or breathe.
One fateful day by some stroke of luck (major luck), two of our heroes speared something I'll call "an aquarium fish". With mighty force these two-inch (no joke) fish were pierced with hardened stainless steel. Deeply compassionate, the hunters snapped their necks and slid the fish into their pockets. Victors they were, satisfied they were not.
Upon hearing that fish sleep at night, the men, against better judgement, again waded deep into the dark sea. This time the sky was not lit by sunlight, but rather a partial moon and one semi-waterproof headlamp. As they waded out it became apparent that this could quite possibly be an elaborate prank made up by the local people to. Was it worth it? Were they too far in to back out now? The answer was a resounding and unanimous yes.They pressed on.
With the luck of a unlucky pygmy Irishman, these meat-hungry (as opposed to blood-thirsty) men had seen nothing more than sea urchins, eels, and sea beetles. With a local teacher's, Nelly, words "be back before midnight otherwise 'they'll get you'" ringing in their ears they hung their heads in shame and headed back home. Wading still, a glimmer of fish scales caught their eyes. A spear was shot and and a cry let out "I got one!". Just then the light flickered twice and went dark. This was no prank, this was a nightmare.
The story continues but its not much worth telling. The light came back on, they caught a second fish after kicking it (fish really do sleep at night) and they proudly walked to their house to cook them up. Heads bashed, necks snapped, gills removed, gutted and de-scaled, There is nothing better than knowing that what you are eating was locally and organically raised just for you to find.
More stories to follow,
Tyler
Day after day (Wednesday-Friday) they braved the 200 yard walk/swim/wade/crawl/shuffle across sea grass, coral, and rusty kitchen knives to reach the edge of the world: the deep dark sea. Donning snorkel gear and vicious, pronged spears they methodically (sporadically) stalked their prey deep into the ocean, to no avail. The sky looked bleak for these daytime hunters. Not only had nothing been caught but the daily storm would turn the usually blue sky pitch black drowning their snorkels with sheets of rain making it nearly impossible to see or breathe.
One fateful day by some stroke of luck (major luck), two of our heroes speared something I'll call "an aquarium fish". With mighty force these two-inch (no joke) fish were pierced with hardened stainless steel. Deeply compassionate, the hunters snapped their necks and slid the fish into their pockets. Victors they were, satisfied they were not.
Upon hearing that fish sleep at night, the men, against better judgement, again waded deep into the dark sea. This time the sky was not lit by sunlight, but rather a partial moon and one semi-waterproof headlamp. As they waded out it became apparent that this could quite possibly be an elaborate prank made up by the local people to. Was it worth it? Were they too far in to back out now? The answer was a resounding and unanimous yes.They pressed on.
With the luck of a unlucky pygmy Irishman, these meat-hungry (as opposed to blood-thirsty) men had seen nothing more than sea urchins, eels, and sea beetles. With a local teacher's, Nelly, words "be back before midnight otherwise 'they'll get you'" ringing in their ears they hung their heads in shame and headed back home. Wading still, a glimmer of fish scales caught their eyes. A spear was shot and and a cry let out "I got one!". Just then the light flickered twice and went dark. This was no prank, this was a nightmare.
The story continues but its not much worth telling. The light came back on, they caught a second fish after kicking it (fish really do sleep at night) and they proudly walked to their house to cook them up. Heads bashed, necks snapped, gills removed, gutted and de-scaled, There is nothing better than knowing that what you are eating was locally and organically raised just for you to find.
More stories to follow,
Tyler
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Basic Skills
My class's combined weight of 14 kids is probably only 625 pounds. But those 625 pounds outweigh me by miles. What these munchkins don't know is that i was blessed with the energy level of at least twenty 1st graders. That being said, i'm exhausted and it is only lunch time.
The exhaustion may stem from more than just the 1st and 2nd graders though. This morning at the odd hour of 5:30 (try explaining odd numbers to 5-7 year olds (also odd)) our mysterious phone of mystery rang (missiontotheisland.blogspot.com). i laid in bed wishing i hadn't stayed up until midnight the night before writing, and hoping i could make Ryan or River get the phone, but before we had the chance the phone finally stopped ringing. Then the rooster crowed and the phone began ringing again. Two more times this happened before i finally got up and unplugged it. "unplug the phone" was promptly added to my list of things to do before bed along with "kill the ants", "check the sheets for geckos", and "tell mom you are alive".
These small inconveniences have yet to come close to overshadowing how much we are blessed here. We have yet to starve (came close but Pastor took us to ACE hardware where we stocked up on white rice and beans), run out of water (more specifically drinking water, last night we had no tap water for showers, flushing the toilet, or washing dishes), die from heat exhaustion (mid 80s at 100% humidity isn't THAT bad), or be washed away by a typhoon. What we do have is an amazing community on a beautiful island surrounded by clear blue water that is teaming with VERY fast fish that sleep at night according to the locals. Add "fish for protein" to the list of things to do nightly.
More stories later. For now i'll be praying my way through language class. Add "pray furiously" to that list as well.
The exhaustion may stem from more than just the 1st and 2nd graders though. This morning at the odd hour of 5:30 (try explaining odd numbers to 5-7 year olds (also odd)) our mysterious phone of mystery rang (missiontotheisland.blogspot.com). i laid in bed wishing i hadn't stayed up until midnight the night before writing, and hoping i could make Ryan or River get the phone, but before we had the chance the phone finally stopped ringing. Then the rooster crowed and the phone began ringing again. Two more times this happened before i finally got up and unplugged it. "unplug the phone" was promptly added to my list of things to do before bed along with "kill the ants", "check the sheets for geckos", and "tell mom you are alive".
These small inconveniences have yet to come close to overshadowing how much we are blessed here. We have yet to starve (came close but Pastor took us to ACE hardware where we stocked up on white rice and beans), run out of water (more specifically drinking water, last night we had no tap water for showers, flushing the toilet, or washing dishes), die from heat exhaustion (mid 80s at 100% humidity isn't THAT bad), or be washed away by a typhoon. What we do have is an amazing community on a beautiful island surrounded by clear blue water that is teaming with VERY fast fish that sleep at night according to the locals. Add "fish for protein" to the list of things to do nightly.
More stories later. For now i'll be praying my way through language class. Add "pray furiously" to that list as well.
Dramatic Structure
Exposition:
This is a blog for my memory. Someday when i am old and decrepit, laying in the nursing home bed, rotting with Alzheimer's and melanoma, my kids will read me these stories as i reminisce of "the good old days". Until then, enjoy a part of my mind.
Rising action:
My decision to be here was not mine. It was a process of nudging, prodding, and ultimately brute force. i know i just said the choice was not mine, it was. God was out to get me, but He just needed me to make the leap. Once the leap was made, nothing else was in my hands. God was in control.
Climax:
i chose to go to Kosrae not knowing anything about the island, the mission, or the people. A good conversation with River one night in the Atlas and a night of fitful sleep and deep prayer had me sold. i signed up that day, never to turn back.
Falling action:
As the months passed God made it clear that i was headed in the right direction. my paperwork was done in just over a week and a half, i got a raise at work to help pay for the SM trip, and i fund-raised nearly all of my goal. The path could not be any more obvious.
Denouement:
After 26 hours of travel and 2 days on Guam, my flight for Kosrae was in the air; no turning back. It was teacher or bust, except that bust wasn't an option. God wanted me here and it happened. Now to find out why.
This is a blog for my memory. Someday when i am old and decrepit, laying in the nursing home bed, rotting with Alzheimer's and melanoma, my kids will read me these stories as i reminisce of "the good old days". Until then, enjoy a part of my mind.
Rising action:
My decision to be here was not mine. It was a process of nudging, prodding, and ultimately brute force. i know i just said the choice was not mine, it was. God was out to get me, but He just needed me to make the leap. Once the leap was made, nothing else was in my hands. God was in control.
Climax:
i chose to go to Kosrae not knowing anything about the island, the mission, or the people. A good conversation with River one night in the Atlas and a night of fitful sleep and deep prayer had me sold. i signed up that day, never to turn back.
Falling action:
As the months passed God made it clear that i was headed in the right direction. my paperwork was done in just over a week and a half, i got a raise at work to help pay for the SM trip, and i fund-raised nearly all of my goal. The path could not be any more obvious.
Denouement:
After 26 hours of travel and 2 days on Guam, my flight for Kosrae was in the air; no turning back. It was teacher or bust, except that bust wasn't an option. God wanted me here and it happened. Now to find out why.
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