Yokwe from the Pacific Isles!
The school year has wound to a close and summer is upon us. Graduations, yokwe (goodbye) parties are behind us, and only a valiant few are left to carry on the school's legacy during the summer months.
School is finished, and I am surprised that I have survived my first year in the classroom. It has been a busy, trying, challenging, and incredible year. I have cried and laughed and cried again for and with my students. I have faced innumerable discipline problems that left me shaking in my "zoris" (flip-flops).
I have written many lesson plans, tests, quizzes and assignments, spending hours in the computer lab with my eyes glued to the screen and my fingers pasted to the keyboard. I have graded more or less 11,325 papers, projects, tests and quizzes (yes, I counted them for posterity's sake).
I have been challenged as I have tried to interest my students in learning, to entice them to think, to force them to use their brains, to be responsible for their own learning, education, and future. And, yes, there have been times when I feel I have failed miserably at each one of those objectives.
But besides the grading, teaching, and struggling in the classroom, many other things have occurred during these past nine months; many things have changed. I have changed. I wear zoris, island skirts and Marshallese combs to hold up my hair. I run by the sea wall as the sun paints a new day in the eastern sky.
Before breakfast, I buy fresh cinnamon rolls and donuts at the local convenience store along with all the other early rising Marshallese girls sent to buy the morning's sweet bread for their families.
I relish Marshallese food: cold coconut water, breadfruit chips, fried breadfruit, bwiro (aged breadfruit), breadfruit boiled in coconut milk, squash prepared the same way, pandanas fruit (called "pop" by the Marshallese), fresh fish. I can now dissect a fish cooked whole complete with eyes, mouth, teeth, skin, fins, tail, and scales and eat all the correct parts. I like fish. But I still cannot stomach any other kind of meat.
Then there are the teenage varieties of not-so-traditional food. Uncooked ramen with Kool-Aid powder would have to be the first on a list accompanied by anything else salty, sour or sweet. I still remember the day the whole high school cafeteria watched in awe as I shared fresh lime with salt and soy sauce with some 9th grade girls. "You know how to eat lime, Mrs. Bizama??!!" many chorused in surprise.
I sing the full-voiced "kajin Majal" (Marshallese language) songs with my students each morning. And, by now, I am used to being called Mrs. Bizama, even though it made me feel ancient at first.
I oblige my students' requests of, "Mrs. Bizama, picture me!" as I snap a digital photo. I sit and "bwebwenato" (story or tell stories) with my teenage charges or "jambo" (a unique word which appears to mean riding or walking with a group of friends with no apparent purpose or destination in mind other than to enjoy the ride and the company) for hours into the night after class parties and picnics in the affectionately called "Boom-boom Box."
I have done many things I never imagined possible.
Over the past months, Leandro has become quite famous on island. He has had several musical opportunities. He and several other teachers and students joined the Republic of the Marshall Islands National Marching Band. He plays the tuba. Tuba is new to him, but Leandro always enjoys learning how to play instruments.
The band has played at national ceremonies and for the new RMI president on several occasions. Then, the school lawyer decided to found the RMI Music and Arts Society. He asked Leandro and another teacher to be part of it. They gave a piano concert with a Japanese volunteer from the Catholic school in town at a small gathering with several dignitaries in attendance, including the U.S. Ambassador Greta Morris. Later, this program was aired on a local radio station.
Following, the Music and Arts Society planned, sponsored, and put on a larger scale piano concert inviting the community to attend. The three pianists performed to a packed crowd of over 200 guests. Since then, Leandro has had several people requesting he give them piano lessons.
Leandro and I escaped to
God's gift of good weather reminded us of the incredibly gorgeous day he had given us for our wedding. The ride over to
Throughout this experience, the ocean was so beautiful. The sun sparkled and glistened on the shimmering mountains of liquid, blue diamonds. It was a blue so intense and deep and bright and alive all at once. I have never seen anything like it outside the islands.
During our stay, we walked on the beach and in the bush. We watched sunsets and sunrises and stars. We visited the coconut oil factory, the giant clam farm, and the
I also saw my first shark! Three sharks in two times out snorkeling. They were really very small reef sharks. We took pictures with an underwater camera that Leandro's brother had sent us for that express purpose. Leandro was convinced that the sharks were at least 6 or 7 feet long. It took quite some logical argument to convince him that they were really only about 3 1/2 to 4 feet in length. Sharks just look bigger when you see them swimming right toward you.
All in all,
But, back at home, the rat race continued, quickened, and drove headlong on a collision course with destiny. Finals, consecration, graduation, and hundreds of Yokwe (good bye) parties were on the horizon. Eighth grade and twelfth grade graduations came off with out too many hitches. Somehow, I ended up being the one to send both groups down the
aisle. I felt proud as a mother hen as I watched each kid march slowly down the fern-lined aisle. At the Yokwe parties, our students literally loaded us down with traditional gifts of Marshallese handicraft.
Then, the yearbooks came out. They were late for innumerable mistakes made by the company. At the beginning of the year, the high school students had been asked to vote for their favorite teacher. This teacher would receive the yearbook dedication for that year. I was totally unprepared when the yearbook editor read my name for the high school teacher dedication. She read the dedication quoting many comments the students had made about me. After all that I had done and all the times I had wondered if it was enough, if there was something more, if I was getting through to my students, now I learned that I had. They had chosen me, not because I was the best teacher, but because they knew that I cared about them.
What one student said illustrated the point, "She is the only one of the teachers who is ALWAYS nice." I cannot boast that I never got mad. I can't even say that I never raised my voice. In fact, I feel that I spent a lot of my time trying to correct errant behavior. But, in a culture where kids are always having people get mad at them, these students appreciates a person who tries to understand them and correct them gently instead of yelling at them all the time.
I'm glad to know, now, that I HAVE made some difference here on this island, with these kids. I have tried to teach them. But they have taught me so much more. They have taught me about sharing, spending time together, friendship, and they have taught me that everyone needs someone to care about them. I hope that next year I will be a better teacher for what I have learned this year.
May God bless you all,
Jennifer and Leandro Bizama