Twelve Cans of Jam

      This quarter my fourth-graders were learning about story writing in English. They learned about the title, characters, setting, and plot. After that they had a couple of assignments where they had to write their own story. We took it one step at a time, creating the story by answering the questions, Where? When? How? Who? How many? Which ones? and so forth. The book guided us through this process and they seemed to be doing pretty well with it. They could have been doing worse, but they were doing as expected, mostly taking too long thinking about each part. I did my best to help them use their imagination to just write what came to mind.

      As expected, their first short stories were generally lacking the plot and the problem. The book's next lesson was about revising the story, so that was helpful. Last quarter we learned dialogue, so I brought this into the picture as well. They rewrote their stories and more were better, but still lacking some. I was okay with that, because, after all, they were just learning about it and I can't expect perfection. After our second writing I let it sit, and continued with our next English lessons. It came up a little later when the whole class (third and fourth) read Mr. Popper's Penguins and did a book report together, because that is essentially how you write the summary of a book. I think this helped them understand what the plot of a story is even better.

      Midterms were this week and not until review started on Tuesday did I come up with the perfect way to study and test them on story writing. For studying, I simply told them to create a story with a title, two characters, a setting (where, when), and a plot (main event, a problem, and how it gets fixed). I didn't get around to checking all of their stories because I was busy with the whole midterm thing, answering questions and such.

      Come Thursday, for their midterm, I wrote on the board:

“Choose one of the titles to write a story about.

Titles: The Dragon That Could Talk OR My Pet Elephant

Characters (three):

Setting:

Plot:”

      I randomly came up with those titles on the fly to help them come up a story, quicker than they previously had. When I was checking the papers Thursday evening, I was completely baffled by what I read: all of the stories far exceeded my expectations, most being very detailed, and some even including dialogue (which I did not expect whatsoever). To say that I was (am) proud of my fourth-graders would be an understatement.

      Anyway, I figured I would type up the stories (from the pictures that I took of them), so here they are. I will admit that I have a favorite story, but I void the shame by saying that it is the most detailed. Of course, some of the sentences, or what transpires sounds strange. An interesting, and great thing is that because I know each individual kid so well, I know exactly what they meant. Meaning, when you read each story, you will miss words that I didn't miss. Isn't that something. (I corrected the spelling but not the grammar).

Michael: The Dragon That Could Talk

      Long ago three men climb the mountain. They saw a cave and they go in the the cave and turn on the flashlight and they saw a Dragon. It a fire-breathing and the Dragon said, “Turn the flashlight off!” and the three boys was scared and Timmy said, “A Dragon that could talk.” The Dragon and the three boys were friend and a Knight come to slay the Dragon and Billy said, “Let us go to the back.” The Dragon and they fly away out to the city and sometime they have trouble and sometime they have fun.

Logan: My Pet Elephant

      Once upon a time there was a Elephant and a man name Logan. In that time 2:35 am the Elephant and Logan walk to this city is Mango City. They walked they saw Kaytan and Kiyus were walking. Kiyus said to Logan, “You are trap. There is a trap there you have to run.” The Elephant cry and cry. Logan said, “Let's run down there,” and the Elephant run and they made it in time.

Prandson: My Pet Elephant

      There once was a girl named Suzy who owned a put elephant. And this elephant's name is Starfy. They lived in a beautiful and large hotel. And one day they went outside and saw the tall man who catches elephants. And the tall man saw the elephant got it with elephant catcher. So the he to the elephant to the zoo. So they went to the zoo and find him and so Suzy took the elephant and take care of him.

Kiyus: The Dragon That Could Talk

      Once upon a time there was a dragon name Billy. Billy live in a cave close to the sea. And there is a family there too. One day Billy went outside his cave and he saw a little boy on the grass. And the boy's name is John. And 3 boys try to kill the boy and the dragon kill them. The End.

Kaytan: My Pet Elephant

      Its about a Elephant and three boy. There name is Billy, John, Max. They meet a Elephant. They saw that he was alone so they brought the Elephant to there house. The Elephant become there friend. The End.

Monalisa: The Dragon That Could Talk

      Once upon a time there was a king and a Queen. And they have a daughter. They're daughter always want to talk to dragon. So her mom and dad was so busy. So they tell her to go play outside. So she went to her friend house to play with her but her friend mom don't want her to play. So she play and play. She saw a dragon cave. She went inside and then she saw the dragon sleeping. So she step on a stick and fell and then the dragon wake up. She stand up and tried to talk to the dragon and the dragon talk. So she ask if the dragon can play with her in the cave. The dragon said, “Yes.” So they play and play. The End.

Andrea: The Dragon That Could Talk

      Once upon a time 3 girl name Sue, Lou Ann, Shara. They have a dragon. They live in a town. One day they where talk to the dragon. The dragon also talk to them. It was so fun for them. One day the dragon was gone. They look for the dragon. The dragon die.

      I am of the mind that every kid is jam-packed full of imagination and creativity; these things cannot be created or destroyed by another. I, as the teacher (mentor figure), can either suppress them or encourage them. I am the can opener by which the jam can be released. To think that I have achieved this to some extent makes me overjoyed.

      Since I know that God has had a big part of my teaching career – which started seven months ago, and is ending soon – I can't ignore the analogy before my eyes. In the same way that every kid is full of imagination and creativity, every kid is also full of good. It can be either suppressed or encouraged, and I hope that I have been that can opener for them this year, teaching and showing God's love where I could.

Tofol to Okat

      I woke up to my second alarm at six-thirty. I can wake up early just fine, but on Sunday my body likes the half rather than the whole for some reason. I rushed to get things done: shower, pack some things, and wolf down a large bowl of instant oatmeal. The only healthy thing about that meal was the handful of dried blueberries and agave nectar. The pastor and I left, picked up Pa Cooper at the end of the road, and headed to Tofol.

      Pa Cooper and I were dropped off next to Pa Robin's house down a gravel road. The first interesting thing of the day was the series of roots from surrounding trees that made up the steps down the steep bank to his house. As far as the average American goes, house is certainly an overstatement. As far as a Kosraen is concerned, it's nothing out of the ordinary. After walking across a makeshift bridge over a small creek is the house. His house is a cluster of open, tin-covered structures (four). On the right and back, his sons, Bob and Joshua (pronounced “So-swa”), sleep under one on an elevated piece of plywood inside a bug net. Veer to the right, him and his wife sleep under a larger house with the sides covered up to waist height. Half of that is also where the dining table is. About two feet from there, towards the creek, is a post with a hood. This post has the electricity meter, one outlet, and a phone jack. Left of the bedroom is another building with cord strung from side to side for hanging clothes out of the rain. Directly across from that is the cook house, where the dishes and stove – from bottom to top: cinder blocks, tin, ash/wood, cinder blocks, a couple rebar, and the pot – reside. I can't forget the hose next to the river, where they wash their dishes and also have a rain catch.

“Kom kang?” (You'll have?)

“Sure.” (I still haven't figured “sure” in Kosraen).

“Kom mongo rice na won boil.” (You'll eat nice and boiled chicken).

      I enjoyed that with some kimchi sauce and soysauce. Once I finished my meal we headed down the road. We stopped not too far away so that Pa Robin could climb and grab some oranges from a cousin's tree. Quickly the road went from used road, to overgrown-used road, to unused road, and finally ended in the bushes. One thing that is evident everywhere on the island is this blanket of leafy vines. They seem only to grow where there is an elevation change, which is more than half the island. Just like everything else they are vivid green, but what really defines them are the large leaves. They are shaped like a spade and as big across as a basketball.

      Don't get your picture all wrong, though, these vines don't grow by themselves on the ground. They grow on top of the shrubs, grass, banana, breadfruit, and coconut trees. They grow up the power lines and cascade down from the big trees along the mountains. It's kind of amazing to look at. Once you get inside the trees (or jungle; I'm not quite sure what you'd call it) and into the untamed mountains, though, it's quite different.

      Firstly, the vines change. They aren't the leafy ones anymore, but the vines without leaves that grow up the trees and across the ground. The younger ones will trip you every ten feet if you're not vigilant, and the bigger ones are coming down from the trees as creepers. Remember the vines that Tarzan swung on? Yeah, I did that (it wasn't from tree to tree, but I'll get there). They aren't everywhere; in fact, some of them are firmly planted in the ground.

      The banana and coconut trees disappear because those are cultivated. Breadfruit trees are here and there. Unfamiliar trees appear that bear fruit which only the birds eat: a large-looking blueberry and an oval-shaped neon orange fruit. Also, a tennis ball sized fruit that evidently used to be mashed up and used for glue. At one point along one of the rivers I also discovered trees bearing nuts. These trees grow perfectly straight, termaphilia (a certainly incorrectly spelled scientific name that Pa Cooper told me), showing no branches until the top of the canopy. Their bark is completely smooth and the roots leave the trunk like walls, the biggest I passed having walls as tall as me. As far as I can tell, these get to be some of the biggest trees on the island. I also learned that they used to be used for the best of canoes. The biggest tree is the banyen, which has multiple, smaller trunks that come together at a main trunk high in the air – and if you have ever read Robinson Crusoe, you may recognize the tree. You can walk through these trunks, and they cover a very large area. These two trees are the most incredible to look upon.

      Once we ascended our first small ridge we took a short break to enjoy our first round of Kosraen-Japanese oranges (a tangerine trunk is grafted to a Kosraen sapling). The peel of the Kosraen orange is very strong, so we used the machete to cut the peel into quarters and go from there. This ridge was coming from the mountain that we headed up next. Right after stopping we saw signs of many wild pigs, but we never ended up running into any. When we finally made it up this mountain we took our second break (I'd guess the elevation at 1000-1500 ft). I forgot to mention that it was quite wet and rainy in the mountains, so there was just enough danger of slipping down the side. Anyway, this mountain, like some of the others, finishes in a point. We sat on this point, had our second round, and if it wasn't for the overgrowth we would have had a great view of Lelu harbor. About an hour had elapsed since beginning.

      We headed down the other side and this turned into a long ridge, where both sides went down at a very unsavory angle. Understand that there is no barren mountain here, all being covered with trees and vines. So, sure, I'd have something to catch myself, but don't forget that it was very wet and slick. More than likely I would have slid down on a combination of my feet and behind until a vine caught me. Many of the smaller trees are also deceiving in that they rot where they are standing – something unexpected happened three times along the way due to these. Not to mention all the roots that show themselves and are slick as well. It was even better when the ridge turned while at the same time descending, pointing the trail (and a probable fall) directly down that large, muddy slippin' slide. Thankfully, I chose the right trees/branches for this (sometimes) three-foot wide ridge to hold on to.

      Once down from this ridge we were walking along a mountainside for a time, and Bob ended up catching a pigeon chick. Over the next hill we had our halfway stop at a small stream. By now we had already walked through some streams and small swampy areas, so my shoes were wet through and through. Since my shins were also muddy from various vines and mud splashes, I casually walked right into the stream, and washed my legs off. Even though everything was damp and cold, I was far from the cold part. Refreshing. We had our final round of oranges and to add to our picnic of sorts, Bob pulled out a loaf of fresh bread from his bag with some butter. Hmm, carbs.

      Now full, we continued our journey, walking along and over other smaller hills. Eventually, it flattened out and we forded (I believe) the same river multiple times, along with various tributaries. Many parts of the riverbed, and whole tributaries, were a squishy, mossy sort of soil, like the whole stream was one big mossy plant. Whether due to the recent raining, or them normally doing this, walking through these small streams' “moss” brought forth orange-ish, muddy water.

      As we progressed along the river, a trail became more developed, and around eleven-thirty we found ourselves at Okat, at the left shoulder of the Sleeping Lady. The river was calm here, no rapids, so perfect for us to rest and wash off our sweat. I took off my bag and went all in. I tried my best to rid my shirt of sweat as well. That was all very nice, however we weren't done yet.

      What we did was hike through the mountains, from Tofol to Tafunsak. Okat is far from the SDA, though, and Okat itself is far from the paved road. We came out on a well-used gravel road, and walked two or three miles to the paved road. This is about the time where I started realizing the condition of my ultra-soggy (or pruned, whichever you prefer) feet, and so did the nerves in them. Once to the paved road we walked three miles to the SDA.

      Arriving there, around one-thirty, I finally took my shoes off and saw that my feet had turned into perfect raisins. I've never had my feet so pruned before, and for the next hour it hurt to walk. All my toes were very sensitive and since then both my middle toe nails have continued towards a darker existence – they will fall off soon. My shoulders were sore for a day, my left heel has scabs all over it, my wristwatch is now a pocket watch, and I proved that you can get a sunburn on a cloudy day (walking from Okat to SDA).

      Was it worth it? No doubt about it. It was all so new. So new, in fact, that I feel I missed parts because my mind was overloaded with the natural, untouched beauty of it all. Next time – we have already planned it – I will carry less, and go with my gut feeling to bring my slippers (flip-flops) for after hiking. I plan to summit as many mountains as I can before I go. This coming Sunday (4/22), Pa Cooper and I have a Plan A and B. If it doesn't rain, Plan A will be in effect, and we will go see the Mutunte Waterfalls. If it rains, Plan B will be in effect, and we will either snorkel or walk along the mangroves (depending on the level of the tide) to the bridge at the airport.

      I just reached my seventh-month marker, and I have a bit over a month left. I'm kicking it into top gear. Nga lungse na paye Kosrae. Fara, kuht som.

Snowy With a Chance of Penguins

      I don't recall exactly when it was, possibly sometime in February, but we were learning about weather patterns in Science. The book also shows weather maps and tells what the different symbols on those mean. I had a random creative thought somewhere among the teaching of this. The thought consisted of me thinking how awesome, and helpful for the kids it would be to have them make their own weather maps. Then, let's make these maps of Kosrae. Finally, how fun would it be for each of them to be a weather man/woman!

      I found a map of Kosrae and drew it on the chalkboard, separating each municipality with a line. Then I proceeded to draw in cold/warm fronts, clouds, sunshine, and even snow, each with the temperature, just as you would see it on TV. Once it was time, I started.

      “Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to your 11 o'clock news (it was). I'm your host, Travis Sandidge, and here is your next-day weather forecast.

      “In Tafunsak, we will be having a warm front coming in from the north. So, it will be sunny with a high of 85ºF (pointing at the picture on the board). Over in Lelu there will be a cold front coming in from the East, so it will be cloudy with a high of 68ºF. Malem is further West; it will be partly cloudy with some sunshine mixed in. High of 75ºF. Go a little more West, and Eastern Utwe will be a bit warmer, sunny, with a high of 79ºF. Looking to the Western side of Utwe, kind of strange, but... it looks like there will be snow with a high of 25ºF (pointing at an awesome snowflake drawing).

      “Thank you for tuning in. I'm your host, Travis Sandidge, and have a good day.”

      At first the kids didn't really know what to do; they seemed a little confused at what was happening. Then, all at once, they realized they were watching the weather channel, and they started clapping, laughing, and saying, “Ohhhh.Yeeeaaaahhh.” At times I had to pause because they were making me laugh. They were making all sorts of sounds, thoroughly enjoying their personal weather forecast. It was heartening (a heart, what?).

      After I finished that, I explained to the kids the requirements of their own weather map and forecast: two fronts, four weather symbols with temperatures, and it had to have some color. There were a few other requirements, such as subbing their name into the beginning and end of my forecast, and having it memorized. Pretty simple. I recorded all of them, and all the kids had a good time with it. One of them even brought in his own pointer stick, causing other students to regret not having their own. This was one of my better – actually, best ideas for class thus far.

      I have always been an avid reader. I read all of the fun, classic elementary books plus some more when I was younger, and I still read when I can. In fact, it's been a very long time since I haven't had a book marker in at least one book somewhere, saving my page. We owe thanks to books more than many people realize or acknowledge. They have helped me in all the well-known ways: vocabulary, knowledge, creativity, imagination, and the small ways that individual books may have influenced me, possibly by altering my ideals or morals for the better. If there is anything that I really want the kids to have when I leave it's a love for reading. I'm not saying a complete introvert, but a respect for and understanding of the good use of books.

      Two or three times since I arrived I had the kids read a book and write a report from it. As far as I can tell, they had never done so before I came along. I did some talking about it, but didn't commit a whole lot of time to explain it. With each successive report I explained more, and their understanding increased. I had plans to do a weekly thing, but I kept forgetting and didn't have time for the explaining. To make it less for me to remember, I decided on a challenge:

      “From now until the end of the quarter, the person who reads the most books will win a prize. They have to be at least fifty pages (earlier, some had used ten-page books) and you have to write a book report on each.”

      I spent a period the next day to explain writing a book report very clearly. I started this challenge, I believe, two Thursdays before the end of third quarter. Over the weekend I even made a super-awesome-looking poster, titled “Rad Reading Race,” to display the racers' current standing (I was included on this). When a student would give me a book report, I would check it. Then I would put a star by their name and the number of pages in the book (they had to put that at the top). By the end of third quarter, two of my students had read many a book, and one had filled every box next to their name. She had actually read four books in one weekend.

      After reading each book report and trying (and failing) to help them improve their successive reports, I decided I really need to take it to the basics. At the start of fourth quarter I told them that they had to hold on reading, because we would be reading a book together. I miraculously found a classic: Mr. Popper's Penguins.

      For the next seven days I read (sometimes a student did) the book to the class, until it was finished. Then we wrote the book report together using the method of, one by one, recalling the main characters, setting, and plot. I asked the kids, “Who were the characters in the book?”

“Mr. Popper! Mrs. Popper! Janie and Bill! Captain Cook! Admiral Drake! Greta! The policeman! The repair man!”

      Each of these were shouted by one or multiple kids. Then I asked them who the most important characters were, the people who were in the whole book, and we narrowed it down very well. Next the setting: Stillwater; Fall; in a city. Finally, plot. Again, many different things were shouted out, and I had to help more on this to point out the very important things that happened in the book. Quite a lot of important things happened in the book, actually. “What were the problems in the book?” Again, various random problems, with the most important ones mixed in. We narrowed this down to Captain Cook almost dying and later, them all being put in jail. We finished with how the problems were fixed.

      I had wrote all this information on the board, and they had written it as well. I told them that they need to take it home and write a book report from it, including the most important things from all the things we had talked about. I think one or two of them actually tried it and had something the next day. I ended up writing the book report, with them listening as I said what I wrote and pointed out why I chose what I had wrote. I allowed them to write what I wrote or do it themselves. It was about half and half. With this all done, I started the race again. Now, they are required to do at least one a week. The book reports have improved greatly, and I finally put up an extension table next to the original.

      I know that I am temporary, especially in these kids' lives, but if I can teach them to love enduring things, take God and books for example – obviously God exceeds books – then I know that I will have made a lasting difference.

Taro Hunting

     Last week we had a week a prayer at the church. Meetings were Sunday through Friday night, and I'd say that they went pretty well. We didn't have any baptisms at the end, but we won't always have that. Besides, at the end of the last Evangelism-type series that we did, we had 13 baptisms. So, I can deal.

     After the Monday meeting, I was talking to some of the locals (both farmers, growing bananas, taro, cabbage, watermelon, etc.). One of them, Pa Robin, is a hunter, so he knows his way around the mountains pretty well. He said he would take me hiking sometime. Later, on Thursday, I asked him when would be the best time to go for him. “Any time that you want to go.” That's one of the great things about being a farmer here: you pretty much make your own schedule. (And you get all the fresh stuff for free). He then asked if Sunday would work. “Yes, that would be great,” I said out loud, but in my head, “YES! THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!” I was pretty excited.

     I then asked where we would be going and he said starting at his place and coming down at Kiokat (spelling error for sure). It would be about a six hour hike through the mountains. I wanted to know, as far as the map is concerned, where we would be going. Conveniently, the island is in the shape of a sleeping lady: we would be starting just under and left of the left breast (mountain), hike through the middle of those two mountains, more on the left, and come back to the road at the left shoulder. Pa Cooper was there and he traced it on my chest. Honestly, how great is that, the shape of the island? 

"Where are we right now?"

"Oh, I'd say we are right at the belly button."

     Friday was Good Friday, so no school. It helped me not feel guilty, that I didn't work out Friday morning, that I was doing a huge hike on Sunday. I even made an effort to get more sleep, mostly only working because I didn't have anything immediately distracting me from sleep. Charged up my cameras, and emptied their chips.

     I woke up at 6:37 on Sunday morning (planned to wake at six); my ride was planned to leave at seven from here. I was also planning to pack my bag (with all the survival essentials), shower, wash my laundry, hang it up, and eat breakfast, all before that time. I quickly showered, and started breakfast and was packing my bag when Febson came over and said that Pa Robin had called and asked if I still want to go. He said that it was raining quite a bit on his side and up in the mountains. I asked Febson what he thought, and Pa Robin as well, but neither offered any advice. I knew that I could go next weekend, so I ended up canceling. That was really saddening; my day was shot. The scrambled eggs that I made, and the dull egg-salad sandwiches that Febson made were pretty good, though.

     It was now 7:30, and I didn't have anything better to do – I suppose I could have been writing people or a blog – so I walked down to the beach. This is something I do when I don't want to be an introvert and sit in my apartment, not being part of the community. The tide was pretty low, so that was cool (later in the day I went shelling). On my way back I stopped at the Cooper's to see what Pa Cooper and Sepe were doing outside. Sepe was grinding coconut for local soup (specifically for the bad weather) and Pa Cooper was getting ready to go get some taro at his taro patch. It's probably better described as a farm/plantation, though. From a distance it is hard to tell that there are (guessing here) 3-5 acres of taro with some coconuts mixed here and there.

     Even since I arrived and learned of taro I was waiting for him to take me with him. So, with the go from him, I went and put on my swim shorts, a dirty t-shirt, loaded my camera in it's water-proof case, and left my slippers (flip-flops) at the apartment. It's just behind the school and church, so not a far walk. From my apt. to the big wetland-type grass is normal short grass. Then after the wetland grass, which we've burned out for the most part, the swamp starts.

     It starts shallow at first, just covering the top of your feet, with a nice soggy, grassy bottom. This part doesn't always have water. As you go further in, or if you take certain pathways (through the taro plants) the water is anywhere from covering your ankle to just above your knee. It varies quite a bit, and it is really hard to tell from the surface. I imagine that you get to know your own farm, though. The deepest I walked through was a third the way up my thigh. Pa Cooper told me that in the bigger swamps it gets to your waist. In these the taro uses this extra space by growing up to fifteen feet tall and needing two people to carry out. One thing that is also tricky in the swamp is that a layer of soil – vines, roots, and broken down vegetation – actually floats in the parts that don't have moving water (most of Pa Cooper's). Once you step through that, which is really soft, it's water and then a lot of mud.

     He had a machete and was doing a lot of clearing, cutting the vines that grow all over the place and the unneeded taro leaves. I was following a safe distance behind, carrying the local basket for taro and taking in all the new sights to me.

     Once a desired plant is found, the leaves are cut off. Then, with the help of a long wedge, you separate it from its brothers and sisters. If you are going for an older one – five years all the way to up to twenty – then you separate some babies from the mother (center of them), clear a spot in the mud wherever you want and plant those. (As the plant gets bigger, more simply grow off the side of it. Kind of like an edible hydra, I suppose. … Not really, but in a way). Then we use the wedge to separate her from the rest and pull it out of the swamp. Next, cut the stem into pieces, putting these in the now empty spot.

     Pa Cooper cleared out quite a bit extra, looking for the right taro. It was great getting a look around the taro swamp. He even showed me the mangrove tree (older than him) that is the marker between his and his uncle's land. Such a simple thing. He also made a couple barricades out of close-by branches. Someone has been stealing his coconuts.

     After getting out with our three taros, we headed back to his house. He washed them up a bit, then peeled them. Yes, sort of like a potato, but with a machete instead. Finally, he used his wooden machete (which he made out of mangrove tree) to break the taro into wedges to be boiled. Quite the process. I told him later that by time I leave I hope he can ask me to go get some taro, and I will make it happen.

     We weren't done yet, though. We went down to the beach and soaked, washing off as much mud as we could. That was followed by a shower and clean clothes. Walked back to his place and had four bowls of local soup in a local bowl (coconut) and quite a bit of boiled breadfruit. Ah, can't forget that I didn't use any utensils. Second best part is that, the first being the local bowl.

     Being out in the swamp with it raining most of the time and then cleaning up and eating some hot local soup was utterly satisfying. There is nothing like it. Sure there are swamps back home, but do they have giant edible plants growing in them and no small or big predators to worry about? Yes, there are all sorts of different soups back home, but are they made with fresh coconut oil and banana (and I mean right off the trees)? This is both positive and negative: positive because I am getting to experience these very unique things, but negative because I will be leaving these very unique things as well. Great, another reason to miss this place when I leave. That's the trouble with great memories: they are both great to look on and sadness invoking.

A Trip Through the Roof

      It's interesting, the things that motivate me to write a new blog. Many times within the past... month I have felt that motivation. There was the boat trip to Walung, Week of Prayer, Spirit Week, The Weather Channel, our Rad Reading Race, finals for third quarter and the party, some yard cleaning with machetes, getting Linux in the lab, and this week (Spring Break), to name many of them. Did I ever mention when I fell through the roof?

      For most of these, not always right after they happened, I had plans write about them. The biggest problem is that when I came to having time for writing I couldn't find the right words to start. I have to have a good way to start the blog – whether you thought any were is a different conversation. The beginning is what I spend the most thinking on. This does seem absurd. After all, I'm simply recounting events that could be considered highlights of my life over here. Shouldn't be that hard, right? In my mind, though, I guess you could say that it's just the same as a first impression: for best results, it has to be great.

      I've been thinking, even more so, this whole week that I need to write. Not worrying about school (per se), and I have the time. I guess I can't always wait for that perfect start.

      I never mentioned that the old principal transferred to the high school. Starting at the beginning of third quarter (January), the Pastor of the church became a sort of stand-in, interim principal. He has made himself the Manager, though, not the principal. Due to the original plan of eventually finding a principal, this is what he prefers. Then the GMM (Guam Micronesia Mission) said to make Iris the head teacher. Things have changed even more recently, and now there won't be a principal anymore, but the job will be split up among a church board and the head teacher.

      Since the beginning of third quarter, and the step-in of the pastor, things have started getting done faster. Part of the old building was demolished (two classrooms), a cover for the “breeze way” built, the tearing out of termite-infested bookshelves and various other things, and the needed reorganizing of the office (including the records, which were in a bad state). Basically, things are getting done instead of sitting stagnant somewhere, whether physically or mentally. I'm not trying to say that the principal was bad. In fact, he is really effecting the HS for the better.

      It was at the demolishing of the two classrooms that I had quite an experience. We were taking it apart, top down, salvaging what we could; tin roofing, timber, nails (to be salvaged later), light fixtures, and whatever else could be saved. The ceiling and walls were simply quarter-inch (guessing here) plywood. The ceiling boards were nailed into a checkerboard of 2x2's. Then the tresses on top of that, which were connected to each other with more 2x2's. The tin roofing was nailed onto these 2x2's. I hope I'm drawing a good picture.

      I wasn't part of the roof-stripping crew. I didn't really feel up to pulling out nails from tin on a shaky roof in flip-flops. However, half of the guys on the roof did and the other half just went without shoes. Wow. I sat along the wall of my apartment to get pictures. Once that crew was about done, I decided it was my turn to help out. I set to pulling the tress-connecting 2x2's up, and getting them to the ground. I was dual-wielding hammers for this.

      Due to the roof not being a choice place to walk – Did I mention that almost 100% of the plywood in the classrooms was infested? – I had to one-foot-in-front-of-the-other across the tresses. When I came to a 2x2 I had to put both feet on one side. It was in the midst of doing one of these maneuvers that the fun started.

      It's an interesting feeling, knowing you are about to fall, and not being able to do anything about it. I had just put my left foot on the other side of the tress, and before I could settle by balance, I felt myself going to the right. I managed to hook my heel on the top (remember, I'm still in flip-flops), and my hands while still holding a hammer in each. To the onlooker, I fell sideways looking like a hinge. My body went right into the only open rectangle in the ceiling, with my feet and hands still on the tress. I folded in half.

      I knew I had a pretty firm grip, so I checked myself and let the hammers fall away first. Then I got, I think, only one of my flip-flops off. Looking around below for options to step/drop on, I found a desk stacked with papers and books a couple feet away. With a complete grip on the tress, I lowered myself onto the desk.

      When I realized that I had saved myself from falling ten feet, back first, onto concrete, I also recognized the huge amount of adrenaline pumping through me. “WHOO! WHOA! WHOOOOO. WHOOO. WHOA!” and many more of those. It's hard to explain the feeling, but with all that adrenaline, and the close call, I had to get that out. Once most of that had gone, I could a tingling on my back, so I pulled up my shirt for someone. I had close to a foot-long scratch down the center and a shorter, deeper one on the right. Oh, and my shirt received dime-sized hole – poor shirt.

      After getting cleaned up by the pastor with a part-local concoction (rubbing alcohol, and a local herb, which they tell me helps heal things faster), I wanted to get back into the work. They really wanted me to rest and take a break. They like to rotate workers. They do this for the people working to rest, not to give everyone a chance. I wasn't done, though. Now they were done with the roof, so we were on to various other things at once, one being tearing down the plywood on the ceiling and walls. As a side note, there were termites everywhere, and the frogs were loving it.

      I had a crowbar, and was finally getting into the work when the thing I was being so careful to prevent happened: a nail in the foot. Right in the heel. I'd say it went in anywhere from a quarter to half inch. I was actually pretty embarrassed by that happening, so I sneakily escaped. It helped that people were still telling me to rest. Cleaned that one off myself, and put on a band-aid that quickly fell off. I reluctantly decided that I was done helping on that project.

      I fully expect this to be a story always worth retelling. However, I have to make sure and not build up expectations when I say, “I fell through a roof.” Yes, I did, but sadly it wasn't anything like you were hoping for, was it? You might have imagined me walking along a roof and a weak section giving out. I plummet thirty – you were really hoping for that. Instead, making it more (or less, depending on how crazy you are) exciting, I plummet only five feet, catching myself on a rafter with only one hand. I now hang twenty-five feet above open air and various classroom objects. My other arm is disabled from coming through the roof and the rafter is cracking. Then someone gets a ladder and I walk down.

      Bad ending to that one, too. (I can embellish later on, though). The truth is that the worst part about it was what my mind did and falling through two, very large spider-webs, with their very large spiders included. Still lame, I know.