What's in me for it?

At my college graduation we had two women speak on their roles as educators. One woman in particular stood up at  the podium and professed her excitement to the audience by rejoicing- “Imma teacher! Imma teacher!

I heard these words and I felt so inspired for my ministry. I discerned towards an international position as a high school teacher and I was beyond excited. It’s quite a fantasy- moving to a remote tropical island and teaching. Now almost a year later I can tell you I have many moments where I feel exhausted, ready with excuses and more willing to push off grading this paper, preparing for this class, and so on. Granted the work always gets done, but recently I’ve been focusing a little too heavily on “what’s in it for me?”, rather than “what’s in me for it?”

My ministry here is so much more than the box of “just a teacher”. It’s about the effort of relationship. I’m also a coach, mentor, confidant. I am more than the 45 minutes my students and I spend together each 2nd period as I stand in a classroom, often discouraged, and dishing out lesson plans and tests. My students won’t remember the tests I give them, they will remember if I cared about them. If I showed interest and excitement in their interest and excitement. If I allow for laughter and time during class to have a break and get a little off topic in an awesome topic. They will remember if I came to their performances and their sporting events. They will remember if I sat down with them and talked to them one on one. It’s amazing the things that consumed me as the worst possible scenarios. I find myself laughing- the first time a student was disrespectful, the first time I got some sass in class. And I remember the times that students were excited to get me as their mentor. Or when they are happy I joined them for volleyball. The first time I was thanked for an awesome class. They will remember all the things about their teacher, just as I remember all the things about my teachers.

I’ve also learned the importance of allowing room for my students to teach me. Either they can correct me on a mistake, remind me of the importance of letting go of grudges, or try to tackle these ever so present issues that affect teenagers lives.

A little tale: I bought a ukulele in hopes to play a little diddy. I recruited Orpha, one of my outgoing freshman, to be my instructor. She now works with me during breaks to learn the basic chords and strums. One of these times I could not figure out how to strum the uke.
 “Orpha, how do you strum to this song?”
She looked at me with a smile as she tried to come up with the words.
“I don’t know Ms. Pifer, You just FEEL it!”
No, Orpha, I don’t feel it…

However, I’ve gotten a little better day by day. I think it means a lot to students when they know they can teach you something and it’s not just a one way street.

I base my entire History class off this principal that we are learning together—I have things to teach you about culture, but you have many more things to teach me about how you live this culture out in your daily lives.

I’ve been in awe of my students lately. For instance, one of our Juniors Decy, came in third place in the national Maryknoll Pope Francis Essay Contest. Out of 8,000 applicants and she was picked. She is quite amazing and here is a link to her winning essay!

Our Seniors are earning scholarships and admission to great universities all over the country! I am honored to sit with them as they write essays on the importance of their culture, a right to education, how they are powerful females, want to be an architect on Yap to combine new structures with old traditions, nurses to improve health on Yap, and government officials to create long lasting change for this country. These sessions of working on essays can be tedious and overwhelming (God bless Pat for being so diligent in college counseling) but in the end these students have matured and grown in their confidence to pursue their desired outcomes in life.

We held an evening of Prose & Poetry in which 22 student performed skits that had the entire audience rolling on the floor with laughter. Skits about the Disney mom’s, Who’s on first?, reenacting the scene from Willy Wonka in which Violet turns into a blueberry, marriage counseling session, and that dreaded person you have to talk to at a funeral. They did so well and really blew the audience away. They are so talented. And that’s a part of our mission at this school. To give students a place of refuge where they can partake in activities in which they can express themselves. Whether it be acting, robotics, sports, music. It’s here. And it is so refreshing to work at a school where this education of the whole person is well established within our students.

Fr. Ciancimino came to campus for a month. He observed our classes and helped give guidance in how to better provide for our students. He also gave an incredible speech about the vision and dream of our school. Fr. John H, a very funny Yapese Jesuit I hope to meet one day, came to the NY province with a vision and dream to start a Catholic high school on the island.
Do you have teachers? No
Do you have students? No
Do you have desks, pencils, books? No
What do you have? I have a vision and a dream. 

And look at it now. 4 years later our school sits on a beautiful campus, basketball court, administration building, and we are almost finished with a chapel. We received the highest ranking for schools in Micronesia and are a real hope for this community. I’m investing in that dream. I was having a discussion with my Freshman and told them once you finish here you will move on to your desired fields- doctors, lawyers, and teachers. “Hey, you could even be the President of the FSM!” I was always told that as a kid. And yes, it seems a little crazy for me. But, it didn’t seem that crazy of an idea as I said it in class. “You can be president” is not far from there reach- and that’s incredible.

So there you have it- a very honest look at my students and my role as an educator. I have many things to work on as a teacher. I have many talents that I haven’t allowed myself to take notice of, yet.

More effort never hurts. More attention to my students never hurts. True compassion is asking “what more can I do?” without assuming there is a reward or benefit in it for myself. So, an attitude I can change at any time- I just have to change it. Is to take on this approach of not what is in it for me, but what is in me, all my effort and love, for it…?

Wander rootless.

In the midst of "snowmagedon" and the "polar vortex" it is difficult to imagine the storm that is hitting, but doesn't end with the next warm front. I myself was a non-believer for a long time. How could my actions in Cleveland, Ohio be affecting the lives of some islander over 9,000 miles away? Global warming felt like the newest fad that would soon pass and everyone would then get tired and catch the next bus to injustice.

November into December marks the beginning of the dry season. Yet, mother nature decided to send a typhoon and then in January a nice tropical depression over Yap. When it begins raining during the school day you can hear our principal say "so much for the dry season!" And it's true. My neighbors and students talk about the changes in the climate quite often. About how the weather is unpredictable. Rising sea levels threaten to erode coast lines, ruin coral atolls, destroy crop yields, and eventually wipe out these low- lying islands throughout the Pacific. These are not just nice corals to view while scuba diving, beaches to lay out and get a tan, crops that can be replaced by the crappy imports-- they are vital to sustaining the foundation of these islands.

We will soon live in a world that has climate change refugees, due in part to many nations not taking care of the environment. Due in part to individuals like myself who didn't care about the affects of what I was  releasing into the environment. One of the best pieces of advice- in order to address the "world's problems" I need to acknowledge they are "my problems."

I am no expert on this issue and I haven't skimmed the "Book for Dummies: Global Warming." So, I will not be sitting here pretending I am the queen bee. However, I thought I would share some insights from the world wide web and the ultra credible source- my students!

Poet Kathy Jetnil- Kijiner presented a beautifully written poem at the UN climate leaders summit. I find this to be very powerful, especially her being 1) young, 2) mother 3) WOMAN 4) Marshallese and 5) gaining the attention of the entire convention My favorite line is "we deserve to do more than just survive." If you have not seen the clip take a look... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4fdxXo4tnY

An excerpt:
dear matafele peinam,
i want to tell you about that lagoon
 that lucid, sleepy lagoon lounging against the sunrise
some men say that one day
 that lagoon will devour you
 they say it will gnaw at the shoreline
chew at the roots of your breadfruit trees
gulp down rows of your seawalls
and crunch your island’s shattered bones
 they say you,
 your daughter
 and your granddaughter, too
will wander rootless
with only a passport to call home
 dear matafele peinam,
don’t cry
mommy promises you
no one
will come and devour you 

In an effort to waste time, meaningfully, I presented this poem to my Freshman class. We spent the quarter discussing the effects of cultural change on the people who live out that culture. We talked about the pressures from outside influence to adapt to a new way of life that interferes with the norms and values of Yapese custom. We've since moved into cultural identity and talk about the students; individual feelings about this culture change.

What happens if we lose our identity as Micronesians? What would it feel like to wander without roots in your land. Land that is so important to the family name, the rank and voice it holds in power. What happens when these people are uprooted- to no longer have a foundation of their values, customs, tradition, legends, ancestors, family, land, all of it....

What would it feel like to only have a passport to call home? Can you imagine Ireland being wiped away? Could I consider myself Irish anymore?

 These may be small nations in a hard to reach part of the world, but they are packed full with just as much importance. My students and I have talked about cultural superiority. What is civilized and why do we think of it as only one definition. Why isn't local medicine, traditional dance, eating from the garden, respect of elders, cooperation and sharing amongst islanders--- why aren't these the traits of what many often mistake to be "civilized"?

To be honest- it's freaky, scary, but it is important that we address it instead of pretending it does not exist. Because it is real in my students' lives- they live with the consequences of others. A promising idea- maybe my students will be the ones to change this wrongdoing....

I asked my students to write their own poems about their island culture and to address the identity crisis- in relation to climate, custom, tradition, family, yada yada yada-  that is happening to many islanders, today. I have been granted permission to share these poems with you! I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Who Are You Now?
Who are you now?
You're not my child anymore.
A child of mine bows with respect to his elders
And knows how to live by the seashore.

He wears a thu and goes fishing in his canoe. 

She wears a grass skirt, and gardens at the taro patches, too. 

He builds canoes and koyengs.

She cooks taro, breadfruit, and yams. 

he loves his wife more than beer. 

She loves her children and fill her family with cheer. 

Child, what are you wearing?
A dress from Versache's Spring Collection?

What are you eating?
Spam? From the canned meat section?
Why waste your time on the Internet
When you could be helping your father with his fishing net?
Child, listen to Mama Wa'ab once more.
Don't give in to your Western neighbors anymore. 

But I know it's too late, and changes have been made. 

So child, who are you now?

Life here with Yap
You've been treating me good.
You provide me with food.
The food you provide is never bitter,
and money doesn't matter.

The air that I breathe makes me feel high
and when I sigh,
expressing happiness,
I can't help, but forget the world's crappiness.

Yap, you welcomed me with open arms,
yet I couldn't protect yo from the harms.
Although the newcomers tortured her,
I just stood by and stared.

They tore apart your flesh
that was beautiful and fresh.
They took away your priceless possessions
Only for the benefit of their obsessions.

I told myself that is was for the best,
yet I feel pain in my chest.
And so I stood and spoke up
But they just told me to shut up.

If I said "Make me" would that change
anything... something?
So they continue to torture
And I'll try to nurture.

If others bring you down and such
just turn around and say "jealous much."

Don't care what others say about you
Because there's nothing they can do.

The Ocean
He built the seawall
to protect his families and all.
As though he timed them throbbing,
Runs they, bobbing, bobbing. 

High tide and low tide
up and down never get tired.
They came on land
destroy every band.

Protect our land
Protect our surrounding!
But it was too late.


Another shout out to my freshman. Our discussion has been revolving around identity. I have had a series of "Who am I?" essays in which they address these issues of cultural conflict as they have experienced them. It's very humbling and impressive to read these essays on the issues they are faced with everyday. Torn between culture, family and religion. Confused about who they are, but excited for the opportunities of the future. Reading these essays has been the greatest surprise as a teacher. It has been unexpected, but a welcomed gift to teach a class in which I am learning right along with the students and engaging in conversation that is meaningful and important as they try to establish their personal and spiritual identities in life.