The Queen of Jinx, Nature's Stairmaster, and The Sociologist's Curse

Kaselehlie from halfway across the world! I'm happy to report that, for today at least, I am healthy. In fact, after Jo's battle with the same flu bug Luke and I had, we're a happy, healthy little JV house. Of course, now that I wrote that, I have undoubtedly jinxed our house, and we will all be deathly ill tomorrow. In the past three months, nearly everything I have said in reference to potentially bad things happening (health, weather, my favorite dog being given away) has come true. When I say, "I sure hope it doesn't rain," it starts raining. If I say, "Well, Jo, at least you haven't gotten sick yet," Jo gets sick. Now, if I say anything of that nature, everyone groans and exlaims, "Why would you say that?!" It's like the man who touched things and they turned to gold, except the opposite; I talk about things, and they are doomed.

So when we hiked / rock climbed to the top of Sokeh's Rock (a ~700 foot peak) on Thursday evening, I kept my mouth shut. Though I was thinking these things, I said none of them: "I can't believe I haven't wiped out on these slippery rocks yet; Do you think it's going to rain tonight?; I'm glad no one has gotten pegged in the head by a rock; Wouldn't it be terrible if this tree limb I'm putting all my weight on snapped right now?" I said none of it, and most of it didn't happen - we all had only minor slips on the way down, it rained for only about 20 minutes that night, and there were no major injuries caused by rocks and trees. We started the hike around 4:30pm, scrambling desperately to the top to try to catch the sunset. We made it up there around 6:00 (record time, if you ask me), hiking up a pretty steep and slippery slope 3/4 of the way, and climbing up the almost completely vertical side of the rock the rest of the way. Our only real safety net was a rusted out old PVC pipe that was, rather pathetically, trying to cover the electrical wires running to the blinking red light atop the rock that serves as a warning for incoming planes. We made it to the top just in time to see... a bunch of cloud cover. No sunset. We longed for a machete as we made our way through the mangroves have grown over much of the top of the Rock, and arrived eventually at the clearing that would be our bed for the night.

Huddling together for warmth... on a tropical island!

Despite the lack of sunset, our breath was taken away regardless - partially by exhaustion, but also by the view that extended for miles in all directions. We saw the entirety of Kolonia, our town, a number of atolls, the reef, miles of ocean water, the entire airport strip, and much more. We sat in silence and watched the nighttime settle upon the island. Soon, all we could see were the twinkling lights of Kolonia and the airport, and the dark mass of the rest of the island. We tried to find a comfortable spot but realized it was impossible, so we stretched out, used our ponchos as blankets, and and slipped seamlessly in and out of conversation and sleep. The wind picked up, and I felt genuinely cold for the first time since arriving in Pohnpei.

When the sun finally came up, we all took different spots atop the rock and settled in. I climed down a few feet onto a rocky ledge that jutted out over Sokeh's Island. I swallowed my slight fear of heights and peered over the edge, and saw only the houses and Sokeh's Bay below me. No rock face, no mangroves, nothing. I leaned back against a rock, closed my eyes, and let the sun wash over me (maybe a little too much - my shoulders and chest are a little burnt!) for a long while. I took the opportunity to thank God for this opportunity and for the beauty that surrounded me, did some yoga, then climbed off of my perch to find Jo and Philip. We had a light breakfast of bread, peanut butter, and Kosraean limes (they taste like oranges), and packed up to head back down. Heading down was immensely more difficult on my legs than heading up. My thighs and hamstrings were pretty sore the next day. We also went slower, recognizing that it had rained a bit the night before and the rocks were very slippery. We ran into some locals who partially owned the land, and explained that we had gotten permission from another co-owner to climb the Rock. It's still such a foreign concept for me - the fact that there's really no public land here.

Two photos of the climb - one on the way up, and one coming down.

Climbing the Rock has really been our only taste of adventure as of late. On the weekends this month, we've had the opportunity to plan the masses for the international community (Chuukese, Yapese, Filipino, Australian, American, Samoan), and we continue to teach Catechism classes. I didn't realize how closely connected I would be to the Catholic Church here. Besides the connections with international mass, Catechism classes, and my own Catholic school, there is the time we spend with the Jesuit community, who are from the New York province, complete with New York/New Jersey dialect and attitude; they're a riot. They're also immensely supportive, which I am thankful for. I've talked quite seriously with a couple of them about (finally) becoming confirmed into the Catholic Church. After four years of seriously thinking about and wrestling with it, it just feels right, for reasons I won't necessarily delve into. So that takes up some of my time - reading, thinking, and praying about it.

During the week, we've settled into the daily grind of 9+ hours of teaching, lesson planning, grading, classroom managing, and other projects, each day. I found out I'll be working on the OLM curriculum for the next few years as we settle into our new identity as an academically-based Catholic High School. Finishing up our first quarter was a big relief. I'm taking this opportunity to breathe, reorganize, and make sure I'm fully ready for the second quarter. I see huge improvements in my abilities in teaching and especially classroom management. First quarter finals were a mix of disappointment and a flush of pride. Pride - because (I like to think) my many pep-talks, both in class and one-on-one, have prompted some of my students to really make the effort and bring up their grades. One student who had a 36% in math at mid-quarter will get an 82% on her report card. In class, I can see her eyes geniunely light up when she knows an answer. Additionally, she and I have made a great connection both in and outside of class. I like to think there's a connection there. Disappointment - because, despite my pep talks, urgings to be seirous students, and promptings to see education as an immense blessing in their lives, some of my students just do not care. I'm learning not to internalize this and see it as my own failing as a teacher, but to understand that the culture here puts a different spin on education for my students than it meant for me as a high schooler. Three students are already out of school at the end of the first quarter - one is married, one is working, and one just didn't want to be here.

The amateur sociologist in me is just bursting with theories, analyses, and topics of discussion for my conversations with my professors when I return to John Carroll. It's especially interesting at OLM to see the distinctions between the vocational trade-based female students (sophomores, juniors, seniors) and the first co-ed, academically-based class (freshmen). The differences in commitment to learning and being in school, comprehension of English and complex concepts, and even attitude, in my opinion, are staggering. The 'social problems' of Pohnpei seem often unique, and sometimes very familiar. Substance use and abuse (alcohol [sakau en mwein wei], kava [sakau en Pohnpei], and betelnut); unhealthy diets that leads to health problems like diabetes and obesity (choices of high-sugar, high-sodium foods [Kool-aid, ramen, canned meat, white rice] over local food [bananas, taro, breadfruit]); and the lack of opportunities for employment ("unemployment" is difficult to define here) are all similar to problems we face in the States, but there's a different spin on each of them. I have trouble remembering simply to observe and not to judge - to be especially conscious of my white American perspective, impact, and power. It has been difficult, but also very exciting - to become deeply and personally invested in and intertwined with this new culture and its customs, language, ideas, daily life, and people. Pohnpei is beautiful but troubled - as are Pohnpeians. As are we... as am I. We are so different, but so much the same. One thing is for certain - I am learning as much about myself as I am about Pohnpei.