BACK TO REALITY

It is sort of weird to say I am, "Back to reality" as my plane lands in Ft. Lauderdale just an hour or so ago. What a real rough life to be where it is still 80 degrees outside, even though the sun has been down most likely 7 hours already. However, I recently realized, is where you sleep the majority of your nights and have a job to go to every morning. But shouldn't Florida be a vacation? A place where only fun things happen, with no worries at all?

Being in Illinois and Indiana this past week, with all my good friends and family around, has really made me appreciate them all a lot more. It is the people you are surrounded with that makes the places you are at amazing, or terrible. Hearing my brother, who moved into to Bermuda where he knows no body, say this, I wondered how he possibly could mean it. He lives in paradise, but seems unhappy at times. Yet, I also recently moved to "paradise" yet, and not experiencing paradise. I feel like I did experience a bit of paradise this weekend, even in rainy and cold Goshen/Chicago/Champaign, Illinois. Why? Because it felt like home. I was surrounded by ones I love, and who love back. I had no worries. It was a priceless week. Even though I was not constantly having fun, constantly comfortable, or experiencing breathtaking sights, I still had a great time. One I would, "write home about!"

I am excited to be back in Miami, with the people I am learning to love, however, it IS back to work and reality for the next month of my life as I finish up DOOR very soon. I look forward to everything that I am quickly going to miss. I count down the days, but I don't know why. Is it to go back to school where I will quickly start counting down the days there as well, or is it just to move on to something new. If either one of these are true, or both, I know it is to return to my paradise, of being with those who treasure my presence as much as I treasure theirs, and I simply can not wait.

As I go back to school tomorrow, I look forward to jumping over the last hurdle I will face for the year, and try to finish the race stronger than I started it. I hope I can walk away from this place with people saying I taught them as much as they have taught me. An experience like DOOR, while it ends physically, is one that will continue to help build me as a person through the rest of my physical life on Earth, and I am just as anxious to continue on with it, as I am to end it. I pray that I can finish my year off with a smile, remembering all the good that came out of my adventure!

THANKSGIVING

I roll out of bed with a smile on face, ready to fly to Chicago to go see all my friends. Thanksgiving, for the first time, would be spent with no family, yet, mostly by myself in airports.

Alicia drove me to Ft. Lauderdale early in the morning to catch my flight into Chicago Midway. Not really thinking, I had thrown on my shorts and flip-flops to fly in; comfort, both wearing and weather wise. I usually don’t throw on jeans and bundle up when it is 85 degrees outside. This would seem smart until a bit later in the trip: obviously!

As I checked in, I noticed that I was in the very last spot to board the plane. Southwest has a system that gives you a number, then you line up in that order, then board the plane and take the seat of your choice. Being the last I didn’t have much of an option. However, I did spot an exit row seat empty next to a larger older couple so I took it. It was the most leg room I have ever had on a flight. Only bad part was, this man was large and loved to talk. While being squished against the window, I managed to make space for conversation.

After 4 tiring hours, I finally got to Chicago, and back on my own without the “couple” protecting me as if I needed protection from two 80-year olds. Come on! I live in the ghetto of Miami! Oh well, I shouldn’t complain that someone is looking out for me. After collecting my bags I sat and waited for an hour until Nate could pick me up and continue the trip to Champaign, IL to get him hitched.

While I have grown up in Kansas for 22 years and been in Miami only 3 months, I was extremely weird to drive through Illinois and see nothing but fields. I never knew you could be converted to a different place so fast. This place is just so desolate. The only skyscrapers I see are elevators and the only people to look at are white and speak English. Something I have not been around for quite some time, but I must say, it is finally comforting to speak English to anyone you know and KNOW that they will be able to respond. Never in my dreams did I think I would feel a slight but uncomfortable being surrounded by white people. (Not that anything would be bad in this situation obviously, but with what I have learned in my time down in Miami, it is just weird to not see any diversity.)

The rest of the evening was spent catching up with friends and eating Burger King, which, happens to be the only thing I ate for Thanksgiving this year. Twice. Burger King for lunch as well as supper! I saved a turkey this year!

THANKSGIVING DINNER??? I MISS MY MOMMY!

Snow, family, fun, football, cold, hot drinks, smell of candy and things baking. These are all things that symbolize the greatness of the Thanksgiving Holiday that is just around the corner. It is always a festive time, especially one, full of food. When Thanksgiving comes, it is always fun to see how many different Thanksgiving meals you are going to get. Grandma, mom, an aunt's, a simple school lunch, and maybe one or two others. The taste of turkey and stuffing is something everyone always looks forward to. Being in Miami away from all family, I did not know if anything would be done on Thanksgiving for me, or around this time. Then, word spread around school of a Thanksgiving Feast that was going to occur on this Tuesday, November 24! I could not wait. I WAS going to get to eat a Thanksgiving meal. Little did I know, I would soon be eating something I never would forget.

Before I say anything, I must say, after eating everything, it was a very good meal that had the best taste I could ever ask for. What makes it memorable may be what exactly I ate, or how something was prepared.

We had mothers come in and decorate the school while the children diligently worked, trying to sneak a peek every now and then around the divider to see what was going on. Everyone was in good spirits as they happily waited to indulge in the festivities we had planned, starting with the Feast of Feasts. As I pondered around the food area, I was very impressed with displays of turkeys, all dressed to look spectacularly delicious to anyone who looked at them. Two turkeys to be exact; making sure everyone had their fill plus more. Smells circled the school, making everyone more hungry as they waited. Finally the time had came, and children started the line a class at a time. While they wanted to dish everything up themselves, the mothers did it like an old fashioned lunch line at Harper Elementary as the plates were passed down the line, then handed to the student at the end. They then proceeded to their desks and ate in the classrooms with their friends close by. After everyone had finished, I got in line, hoping for a heaping plate since everyone had been through. I got exactly what I wanted. As they filled my plate, I kindly declined the macaroni salad and something else that didn't look so swell, so I just said I was allergic to it. Worked like magic. I got my plate, and took my excited stomach to my room and sat in some peace and quiet. Many colors flooded my plate and I tried picking what to eat first. The bright pink and white cranberry Jell-O salad and whipped cream salad was obviously the best choice. Especially since they had given me two helpings. I loaded my spoon with a mouth full, opened wide and clamped down trying to savor every single ounce of it. At that moment, my taste buds sent shocks through my spine alerting me that something was wrong. My sweet taste buds that had been so finely prepared were thrown for a loop when something completely different was present in my mouth. While in many homes I have been in over Thanksgiving, cranberry something is on the table and a tradition. However, I suppose this has something to do with Haitian-American culture, they believe that pickled-egg potato salad should replace the cranberry, giving onlookers false hope of receiving a nice dish. Instead, this...STUFF....was served to me, punishing me for assuming too much. I could have died!

After I cleaned the puke up off the ground (This is a joke. Once I realize what it was, I ate it and it was fine, just not my Jell-O salad I was craving) I proceeded to the turkey. I had not slabs like I am used to it being cut into, but chunks. So, I took a chunk, inserted into my mouth and chomped down again. After this I immediately was looking up my cousin Erin Johnson's (a dentist) phone number. For it felt like every tooth was broken off into my mouth. Apparently, the knives they used are sharp enough to filet right through bone, cutting the turkey into a grid or something, avoiding taking the bones out. Why take them out when we can cut through them? Well, fine! OK! I understand your concern! Just please, next time, let people know this is not a traditional Thanksgiving Feast. Please and thank you!

Since I have no teeth, I proceed onto the mashed potatoes since I don't really have to chew them. Quickly, I decide this too was not a good idea, as the stuff in my mouth tasted like mashed potatoes, yet, was something very, extremely cold. Almost frozen. I did not want to say anything because I want to be culturally polite. So, I do the next best thing. Find Alicia, the only other white person within 20 miles, who happens to be the secretary and ask her about it. She informs me that it is indeed mashed potatoes, but when she tried to heat them up, she got yelled at so she just set them on the table. I should have realized that I was the last person through, and no one had touched these potatoes. Usually a sign of some sort, so, I took mental note of that one too.

As the meal was slowly declining, I decided to stick to the black beans and rice they had prepared, as well as the fried plantains, a traditional Haitian meal. It...was...SPECTACULAR! I should have just stuck to three plate-fulls of this instead.

After downing the last of my plate, someone asked if I wanted sweet potatoes also. While I love sweet potatoes, I kindly declined wondering if they were even orange or sweet or even potatoes. I was 2 for 5 on guessing what things were so I was going to stick to my current odds and turn it down. I think I made the right choice!

To refresh everyone...The meal was very good and lots of work was put into the meal to prepare it. I may sound ungrateful, yet, I was not at all. I was so happy that the time, energy, and most of all love was put into making this feast. It is just, when working with different cultures, things are prepared different ways. When it is a thing like Thanksgiving dinner, that everyone is used to their own traditions, it is hard not to get expectations that it is going to be mom's mashed potatoes with ranch and cream cheese. This by far was the best meal we have had this year at YLC, it would have just been better with an instruction packet on how to properly consume each thing on the plate!

DECISIONS! WOW...

I really thought I left everything at home as I left Kansas just three short months ago. I thought everything would be totally new. A new culture, new food, new language, new habits and definitely new people, however, something has been proven to be the same. Kids all around the world still want to make stupid decisions, and are still trying to make the same excuses I thought I invented in school.

Being quite a young teacher, I still understand the ways kids are thinking, their habits, attitudes, and how they all change on the spur of the moment, just depending what is going on. Yet, they all seem so impressed when I catch them doing something, or not doing something. For example, I heard someone chewing on something today and told them to spit it out. Since I was not looking at them, they could not figure out how I knew they were chewing on something. They revealed it was sunflower seeds, so I told them to spit all of them out and empty their pockets. I got back to work on the board, not watching them as I figure being 16 years of age, I don't need to walk them to the trash. While writing, I heard one small thing fall in the trash and the student return to their seat. Without turning around, I told them to go back and spit them ALL out. Once again, they were so impressed that I could tell that without seeing them.

Like I said earlier, these kids think everything was reinvented by them, even though excuses and the same behavior has been around since before my parents were here. If they only knew the high school I went to, and what all went on "behind the scenes" there, they would quickly learn that they are not so tough, and "street smart" as they think they are. They have never been offered weed at school or taken shots on breaks at their lockers. Or have they?

Today I was in a hurry to get reading books to the boys and didn't want to put up with them slowly getting out of their chairs and walking to their bags, therefore, I went to their bags to get them for them instead. At the sight of me grabbing his bag, one student jumped up yelling that I had no business looking in his bag. At this moment, while it doesn't take a NASA engineer to figure out, I knew there was something being hidden that was not school appropriate. Possibly another knife to use on the teacher, or if I was lucky, a gun that would take care of me instantly, leaving no pain or suffering. By his startled reaction, I found it very necessary for him to stay in his seat while I searched. He found it necessary to try and get the bag from me, but once again I proved to them that they can not out power their teachers, or outsmart them. After a simple glare (This boy is the weakest boy in the class, and the biggest softy in the school. However, he tries so hard to act tough, but is only laughed at by his peers) he decided to back down and let me search.

Now usually, I would just do a brief, slide-my-hand-in-each-pocket" search, but I knew something was sitting inside waiting to be pulled out. Anymore, students' bags have about 30 pockets, just asking for them to hide something from a teacher, specifically a weapon. After opening pocket 29 I still found nothing and thought that I may have over reacted or over read his actions. However, I was not about to have another knife blade pulled out in my classroom. I don't need my face flashed around CNN for the next week. As I opened the last pocket, there was a strange little bottle sticking out. Now in Haitian culture, and possibly African-American as well, these young boys have just as many accessorizing bottles as girls I know. They all have lotion, hair spray, brushes and all, making my room turn into a beauty salon every day. I just figured it was another bottle of lotion, so I decided to put it down. After dropping it, I thought it would be funny to see what scent of lotion this boy uses, so I picked it up, unscrewed the cap, and took a whiff. After all my nose-hairs grew back and I was able to see straight again, I realized this was indeed NOT lotion, but a bottle of alcohol. When asked, they were all quick to respond the same name of the Haitian cocktail, but neglected to tell me any alcohol was present. I took it around to Haitian teachers and they were all in shock, knowing exactly what it was. A home mixed drink made with coconuts and other tropical juices and I believe vodka. When asked, he admitted he brought it to drink at lunch, but had no idea it had alcohol. Of course he didn't know alcohol was in it! Only the reason he admitted to stealing it from his parents cabinet. After a long talking to, and tears were cleared up, his parents were called to the school and I had a big meeting with his mother and him, as he stood with tears flowing out of his tightly clenched eyes. "You just wait till your dad gets home!" (Another similarity between cultures, or maybe the world. No kid in the world wants to be home when his father hears that he took some booze to school.)

While this was a very illegal move, the cops or authorities were not notified, but taken care of between the school, parents and myself. It is so weird to be part of, let alone in charge, of big issues like this, giving a very stern speech to a young man about how this could effect his life both physically and politically for the rest of his life. It seems like only yesterday I was sitting in school, listening to motivational speakers talking to us after a huge party was busted. God has put me in some weird situations this past semester that I never thought I would be in. Yet, I am loving every minute more and more!

THE GIFT OF FAMILY

With the sun shining brightly and temperatures reaching to the upper eighties, it seemed to be a great day to go to the beach and get some much needed relaxation. The weekend has been very lively, reaching into the wee hours of each night. For me, it has definitely been the latest hours I have stayed up since coming down South. Therefore, why not go to the beach and try to catch an afternoon nap while getting some rays? Having two weddings in the next month, both near the Chicago area, I have told myself I WILL be the darkest person at these weddings! Well, darkest Caucasian. Living in Miami, there is no reason I should not have the best tan of my life. What would I tell people when they ask why I have no color to my skin? Therefore, like I always procrastinate, I am trying to hit the sandy beaches as much as possible in the next few days, and today proved to be a great day to get color. Lots of it. A nice, warm, red color all over the front half of my body.

After being at the beach most the day, my parking tolls were running out, forcing me to pay more or just return home. Today, Megan's family was to arrive, so I decided to just come back to the house and meet the McCarty gang. After returning home, I noticed Megan's car to be gone, then found out I had just missed them as they headed to the beach. I called Megan and she had just been honking at a huge van in South Beach, thinking it was me, later to realize it was a vacuuming company, or some sort of cleaner. We got a good laugh out of that. This gave me a chance to come home, catch up on some sleep and get cleaned up before they got back.

For dinner, we all went out to Havana Harry's, the local Cuban joint just to the south of our house a few miles. It was my first time to the restaurant, yet, proved to be one worth going back for. We all enjoyed huge plates full of tons of food, then shared god fellowship as we sat around the table and chatted for a bit before leaving.

It is fun to get to know the family of a room mate, as I am the only one that has had a guest in the house thus far. Stories always help one realize where a person came from, but meeting the important people in their lives sparks a deeper respect for where they came from and shows us who they came from. They will be in Southern Florida for the whole week, but are leaving the house for the Keys in the morning.

MY THIRD HOME

Being in Florida, which I will now call my second home, I have really grown accustomed to what is surrounding me.  Lots and lots of buildings, surrounded and filled with people of every color and culture imaginable.  I heard there are about 60+ languages spoken around Miami, with each obviously having a different culture.  In these cultures, there are also subcultures, dividing the people even more diversely.  To get away from all the chaos of the matter, why not get away to a place where you are guaranteed to be back in my own culture, or, a subculture of the English language, and one not far from that of Harper County.

I have taken a liking to the Everglades and have started finding myself out there quite bit.  A little "home away from home" if you will.  Going on fan-boat rides has became an occurrence that I didn't really think about doing before coming out here.  I have now been aboard three different boats touring parts of the Everglades.  And, every boat ride tends to be a bit different.

Having a great experience with my parents at one just a few weeks ago, the female room mates and myself went back there, and took a ride.  While we went on a cold day in the past, today was nice, with a temperature of about 85 degrees.  It was a perfect day to be on a boat, and even better day to sun if you are an alligator.  

While waiting in line to get on the boat (or maybe we were on it, I don't remember) a loud truck drove by with a HUGE confederate flag waving behind it as the driver hung out the window and yells, "GET DRUNK AND HAVE FUN!"  This was the first clue that we no longer were in the city.  There is no way this guy would still be breathing had he done that anywhere near Miami City Limits.  After sharing a little laugh and a little flashback from high school, we got on with the trip.  As we took out, the tour guide started sliding the boat around giving us a real fun and memorable ride.  He also proved to have some really good (lame puns) jokes.  However, he was a lot of fun, but it was hard to know when he was serious.  He stopped and told the ones with shorts (My room mates and I) to get in.  Well, who really gets in alligator infested water when someone says to.  I hesitated a bit, then jumped in.  Why not?  Only really have the chance once, or in my case, every other weekend.  The water was nice and chilly, feeling pretty good on this warm day.  The ground below the water was quite different, as it felt like walking on a sponge.  While it was knee deep, it allowed us to wade around close to the boat, within jumping distance if we saw the spikes on the back of an alligator coming at us.  After a few pictures and laughs, we tried to get in the boat, but my first step, I landed in a sink hole and went in up to mid thigh, soaking my shorts!  I was sure I was going all the way in, but managed to grab hold of an arm, and got pulled it.

After safely getting in the boat, we took out across the Everglades, going through grass and trees.  Finally the captain stopped telling us he sensed a gator close by.  Suddenly, a huge head popped out from under our boat and an 8-foot gator swan out from under us and climbed into the grass by our sides.  It was AWESOME!  He was so big, yet, seemed so tame.  It was all I could do not to reach out and grab his tail.  We continued on, seeing about 10 more gators, 15 more turtles, hundreds of birds and all different forms of wildlife like fish and bugs.  While the first two trips could have been more eventful in terms of seeing things, this one really made up for it, as it seemed like I was on a crew filming Planet Earth.

Afterwards on the way home we stopped at a BBQ joint that looks real junky (which is the universal sign for the best tasting food!)  It proved to be quite good, as I got a gator burger and fries.  What a great way to end a day on the water surrounded by the giant lizards.  

FINALLY FRIDAY!

Once again, the loved weekend has drawn close again, only having to survive another day at school.  And when I say survive, it is not a word to be throw around to sound funny.  It is a serious matter.  I actually do "survive" each and every day that I leave that building.  There are some days I honestly don't think I will come out alive and surviving is proven to be a skill, not a given.

Over the past few weeks, I have had several conferences with the principal and administration of the school, a.k.a the Beauregard family.  In these meetings, we have discussed the future of the 5 young boys in my class that I work with every day.  While they are falling behind in every class listed on the grade card, Mrs. Beauregard believes that these individuals only need to focus on reading.  I am instructed to teach only phonics, spelling, reading, writing and a bit of math.  When they decide they want to read, and finally catch on to it, she believes everything else will come with time, but their reading skills really need to develop soon or they never will.  To put this into action, I have taken Social Studies and Science almost completely out of my class.  This is very hard to do as they are some of my favorite subjects and ones that I feel I can teach better than Reading.  However, I am listening to the administrative decisions and going on with teaching Reading.  During each day, we spend about and hour or two working only on our spelling words, breaking them up into syllables, looking at letter combinations and when they appear in other words, long and short vowels and what makes them this way, as well as definitions and actually using these words in sentences.  This tends to be the hardest for them to do.  They can all memorize the spelling of the word long enough to pass the test, but actually making them put them to use in a sentence is what sinks their boat on each test.  Therefore, we put tons of effort into getting them to do that this week.

Early Friday morning, I have them all study a bit on their own as I finish us with some grading then start to help them.  We go over sentences, definitions and actual spellings.  I show them a few ways that helped me growing up, such as making acrostics.  (I think it is called acrostics)  This really seemed to help them.  Nervous about if they were going to make the same grades of F's that they have all year, I had them clear their desks and get out some paper.  I started giving words, demanding that I only repeat them once, making them pay close attention.  

After giving all the words, I gave them a while to write a sentence per word and waited patiently for them to finish.  After getting them all turned in, I started the grading process.  Usually I use about a pen-full worth of ink to grade their tests each week.  I got my fresh pen out and went to work.

My two best students' tests were on the top, proving to be once again the highest in the class.  Out of 20 possible points they missed about 3 each, but nailed the extra credit, giving them A's.  The first time ever.  Then came my two worst students who have never received an A on anything except lunch.  After checking a few wrong, they got upset cause they really believed they had done good.  Cursing me, they turned and walked away swearing that "I" always give them bad grades.  I grade to hard.  (Personally, I don't understand how checking a word wrong because it is misspelled is being to tough, but hey, to each their own.)  As they walk away, I am tickled silly to actually see they had the rest of the test correct, even the extra credit.

For the first time this year, I handed out 0 F's, 0 D's, 1 C, 2 B's and and A (One boy was not there for the test).  I have never been more proud for a group of people as I was standing there in my classroom.  For once I felt as if my work had been completed for a bit.  Maybe this is one of those moments teachers talk about where you just have a smile because you know that you have done something to change a person.  It is something like that, that makes me excited to get back to work and give them more words to see if they can keep it up.  My weekend has been that much better due to 5 boys actually trying in my class!

WATCHFUL EYES

Yvonne is a very family oriented school.  It is part of their mission to get the parents of each child involved in their child's life, especially their educational life.  In Little Haiti, and from what I observed while at Haiti, people do not put much time towards worrying about their children's education.  They more are worried how they are going to survive, and, paying money to school and going to check on their children is near the bottom of the "to do" list for the day.  School was never a big point for the parents, therefore, they don't see the need to support their children or their school either.

In attempt to change this Yvonne requires each parent to come to school and volunteer at least 30 hours per year.  If this time is not fulfilled in the time that school is in session, they are required to pay a fee of about 130 dollars or so.  To volunteer 30 hours in 10 months, this is not asking much.  As far as my students go, I have not seen one parent come to school to volunteer time.  We have a student in first grade that is a little terror and never gets anything done.  He also keeps others from getting work done.  His mom now comes three times a week and it is amazing the changes that boy has made.  He is now getting A's on his report card.  This helps to prove that when an adult puts interest in their children, they tend to do better.  With my class, there is no parental help or guidance at all.  However, Thursday morning, I turned around to find Mrs. Beauregard in my class with a parent, saying he was volunteering for the morning.  Finally, a parent is trying to make a difference in my class.  I was excited.  

Growing up, whenever a volunteer was in the class, they were put to work, helping students with homework, helping watch the class; you know, just another set of eyes to keep everything in line.  I thought this was going to be great.  I let the parent know what we were doing, thinking he would jump in to help.  However, he pulled up a chair, sat at the edge of the room and just watched.  No smile, no frown, no movement, just staring.  I didn't know if he was staring at his kid, using the silent treatment to get him to work, or staring at me, trying to make me nervous, but this is how I took it.

Now I have never had anyone watch me teach that knows anything about it.  Not one adult has watched me teach, not even sat in for five minutes.  Every now and then and adult or Mrs. Beauregard will walk through, but never stop and listen for a bit.  Therefore, this made me quite nervous to have another adult in the class, possibly judging my teaching style.  having another set of "watchful eyes" in the classroom is always enough to make a teacher be on THEIR "A" game.  Talk about pressure!  Even though these parents can barely speak much English, it is still very hard for me to not think that he is sitting there just ripping my style apart.  Had he been helping do something I think the butterflies would have escaped out my mouth in one burp, however, he just sat and stared.  Almost like a certain doll that lives in the basement where I spent the nights growing up; just sitting and staring at anything that walked by.  These guys eyes didn't blink one time in the hour he sat there.  I have never seen anything like it.  It was as if someone had painted his face on, because it did not move.  Even the slightest smile would have made me feel better.

Finally, I put it aside and went on.  This seemed to help, as I walked around the room more, noticing he wasn't even really paying attention to me.  He seemed to be more hypnotized than anything else.  Possibly asleep with his eyes open.  And work was easier.  

After almost forgetting he was there, a large hand was thrust in my face, making me jump as if someone had shocked me with a cattle prod.  "It was very nice to be in your class today.  I look forward to coming back next week!"  I shook the hand dangling in front of me and saw him to the door.  With the "slam" of the door shutting, my class instantly turned back into the monkey cage at the zoo as boys were everywhere.  However, when the swinging monkeys were threatened to write lines they calmly turned back into studious boys and stuck their noses in their books.  Feelings of freedom came down on me for the rest of the day, and possibly, the rest of the year.

ASSEMBLE!

Growing up in school, every now and then we would all be herded into the gym or auditorium because we had a guest speaker coming to change the world, one small school at a time.  It was always a great time away from the class for us to listen to yet, another great person that did something great with their lives that was going to help us change into perfect little angels that never caused any trouble, giving our lives color.  Well, while we gradually changed to black and white little children, the students at my school have lives filled with every color in the rainbow.  And, after being there three months, sometimes it is hard to think they are ever going to get rid of those colors.  Which can be a good thing sometimes.  Who wants to live in a black and white perfect world?

Today we had an assembly, YLC style.  Since there is no gymnasium, auditorium and hall in our school, we put all the kids into our largest classroom, which is actually two classrooms divided with a simple divider.  The whole school, except the preschool and kindergartners came together to listen to a woman talk about November 18; the day that Haiti fought the start of the battle that soon became their independence.  It was fun being one of the only two white people listening to a big presentation about the slaves revolting to win their independence.  This was the second time that the lady has been here, as she talked about the Haitian people being slaves from Africa, but then continued her presentation today, and will wrap it all up later in the year.  

Watching these kids listen as their history is revealed to them is so exciting, as they all have smiles on their faces and actually sit and listen.  The first time she came, the kids were a little disrespectful, yet, today, they all did much better as they knew that she really was a good presenter.  

While it was good to have this lesson, as for the rest of the day it was hard to work with.  With the whole morning taken for the presentation, there was absolutely no learning being done.  Then, come the afternoon, the students all just want to take naps, wasting their time and mine.  Teaching in the afternoon is almost impossible, as no one will listen.  Therefore, today, while very easy for me, was a waste of time.  

Every Wednesday we have a teachers meeting after school and Mrs. Beauregard decided to have each teacher do a lesson for the other teachers, showing how they do in their classroom.  Today, obviously, was my day.  I had a week to prepare and didn't think about it until the middle of the ladies presentation.  I had nothing to do it with, so thought back to my days in school.  I decided to do a lesson on color, being an art major.  I was going to make the color wheel out of food coloring and water, as well as bringing in some Science showing how and why the colors spread at different speeds.  After school, Samir and I rushed to the supermarket to buy the coloring.  However, they didn't have any so we went to the Jell-O aisle to use it instead.  After tracking it all down, we discovered there was no blue, so the plans changed.  We went to the soda aisle and finally found a blue soda, yellow and red soda.  We took them back and WHAM! it all worked perfectly!  The presentation went well and everyone seemed to be impressed as they all learned.  (Only Alicia knew anything about colors...unless everyone else was faking dumb.)

JUST PART OF LITTLE HAITI LIFE

"What happens when you die?" I hear as I am sitting grading papers.  After being sick, and still a little light headed, I am just trying to make it through the day and it is only 9 in the morning.  After getting no answer I hear it again.  "Mr. Isaac.  What happens when you die?  Like, what happens to you, not your body, but like you?"

Where do these kids go to school?  They have been going to the same Christian school now for three years, and they don't know what happens when you die?  How could this be?  "Well, you can go to Heaven, or Hell I guess, just depending on the person."  After this it was quiet.  Relatively quiet I guess, but the subject was dropped. 

Periodically through the day, someone would bring it back up.  What a weird question to be asking.  Are they planning on dying or something?  Why are they asking about death all of a sudden?  After thinking this for just a bit, it hit me why they were asking with the following conversation with my student Maxsteven.

"They got him in the forehead, Mr. Isaac!"

"What?  What are you talking about?"

"My homeboy!  They got him in the forehead!"

"Who?  What?  Who got who in the forehead?"

"My homeboy got cracked in the forehead this weekend!  They capped him!"

"He is dead?"

"Yea, of course.  He got shot right in the forehead.  He is dead Mr. Isaac."

After talking for a bit, they all chimed in informing me that one of their friends, specifically Max's, was shot an killed just a block from the school on Friday.  However, no one seemed effected by it.  And surprisingly, I wasn't either.  When first coming to Miami, hearing about a murder anywhere in the city frightened me.  It was very scary how much crime was here, especially near where I was to work.  Now, it doesn't even effect me.  Someone was shot a block from where I work, roughly about 5 hours after I left and it doesn't even shock me anymore.  This, I think, is more shocking to me than the actual fact this young boy's life was taken over a drug deal.  After dealing with it and hearing about it everyday, you just come immune to these things.  You may not think so, but everyone at the school is about the same way.  "It's just another person getting shot.  No big deal.  Happens every day around here.  Thats part of Little Haiti life!"

For the rest of the day, I take it easy in class as I notice no one can really pay attention.  While they try to act tough, as if nothing happened, I can tell they are all thinking about their friend.  I promise them if they can pay attention through a short math lesson, we will have McDonald's.  Little did they know I already had it in the microwave for them staying warm, and I would give it to them no matter what, but they think they are getting rewarded, which is the plan.  

Working in ghetto has really opened my eyes in a way I never thought they would be opened.  So many lessons can be taught to a teacher in school that somedays I really wonder just who the real teachers are.  I truly feel I am learning much more from these boys than I could ever teach them!

SICKNESS SETS IN

Being sick is never fun, but come 3 AM this morning, I found myself wrapped around the toilet, letting my inner juices be released.  What caused it, I don't know, but all I can think about is driving my room mate across Miami at 6 AM to his surgery appointment for his shoulder.  That was going to be a miserable trip like this.  And work?  What to do about work?  I don't want to call off, so I put that in the back of my mind until the time comes to actually make a decision.

As I fall back asleep, I am in and out, of sleep and the bathroom for the rest of the night.  Head pounding, I stumble around my dark room trying to make up my stomachs mind whether it wanted to stay in the bathroom, or stay and sleep, but it never did.  

The alarm wakes us early, as I still feel puny, but strong enough to take JJ.  We go, and upon arrival I am aching to get back and reunite with the bathroom again.  What has gotten into me?  I do not feel sick, just can't stop this stuff! I dial the numbers of my principal's cell and find her at home, getting ready for school (I think).  I tell her there is not way to make it to school, and she understands completely, as we don't want sickness going through the students.

The day was filled with much reading and relaxing, for the most part.  Sprinting to the bathroom every half hour was my only exercise.  I surprised JJ when he was dropped off by a coworker, and tell him I stayed home to be a good room mate and take care of him.  I think he thought I was serious, cause I played nurse the rest of the day.  That was alright though, I don't mind helping as I remember the days of my knee surgery.

We sat around talking, watching movies and reading books the majority of the day.  I hate being this lazy, especially when I feel this crappy, but eventually in the afternoon, after unsuccessfully trying to keep down yogurt and eggs, I start feeling better.  Yet, my insides are still unsure of what they want to do.  It sounds like a real party in there, listening to the rumbling and bubbling that is going on.  Hopefully it calms soon, or another long night could be in store!

SINGING: A TRUE GIFT FROM GOD

As we enter church on Saturday nights, it is never an option except to enjoy the music.  I have mentioned before how amazing the band is at our little, "coffee-house" like church.  All the instruments being played perfectly to blend at such an amazing tone.  I always leave a little more impressed with how well they all mesh together.

Every Saturday night afterwards, something happens (socializing at out house this week) and then sleep, followed by the choice of going to church again Sunday morning.  At first, I went every Sunday morning.  Lately, however, I have been slacking in this category.  For me, music is a big part of worship.  It is something I really get into doing the services.  I must say, sometimes I judge a church, not on the pastor and how welcoming people are, but by the musical talent and ability of the congregation to sing.  It is what makes a church service aesthetically pleasing.  Coming from the Mennonite church, I get rather spoiled by this.  Especially, coming from my particular, very musical extended and immediate family.  God blessed me in a way, by putting me in these two, very musical groups of people.  It really is hard to top a good Mennonite church for their singing of hymns, and and song in general.  In almost every Mennonite church I have been in, during a hymn, I will stop and just listen to the sound being made.  I do this in all new churches I am at.  However, during most Mennonite hymns, there is a distinct, talented 4-part harmony, and if not, something very close.  It is when I go to other churches that it is painful for me to sit through the songs.  While there are some churches I have visited that match up to the Mennonites, it is very unusual for me to find one of these churches.

Being in Miami, where there are not a lot of Mennonite churches, and living in a house full of Presbyterians, my choices for Mennonite churches is very slim.  Except for the Spanish speaking on that is rather close to the house.  However, I don't think the music would be the same for me, since I wouldn't be understanding the words.  Therefore, I go to many churches, well, other churches, that are not Mennonite.  Non denominational, congregational and today, my first visit to a Presbyterian church.  While growing up, if not at my home church, we usually went to other Mennonite churches, or, for example, A black Missionary Baptist church in Kansas City, Missouri, which could sing like crazy.  I have always been surrounded by singing.  I am trying to make this clear.  So, when I walk into church today and they tell us to sing, I have trouble finding my pitch.  Usually, being in a congregation full of amazing singers, I can get it no problem.  Getting off pitch is the hard part since everyone else is always on.  However, today, I could not seem to get my right pitch.  As I sat and listened, I quickly realized it was because no one in the church was singing the right pitch, or trying to harmonize in the least.  I had never really noticed how much this affects how I sing as well.  It was as if I was looking for the only person in China who spoke Spanish.  Being in the middle of so many Chinese speakers, I would never find that one person.  Just like I was never going to find that note today in church.  It was painful.  It really was!

While thinking about it in "sitting and listening" part of the service, it really made me so grateful and thankful for the people I have surrounding my life.  While these people are not bad ones at all, something just very important to me is lacking in their church services.  While I come to this time of the year of giving thanks, it really stuck out to me how richly God has blessed my family, the Mennonites and I with the gift of music!  I can't wait to get back to my roots and listen to some good ole Mennonite hymns and singing!  Miami, being the city of cultural differences, is missing out on one of the best cultures someone could ask for!

FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH

What things happened unlucky for me today?

1.  Had to drive Megan's Toyota Camry to work today, which is very opposite all around from my van.  Brakes push easy and gas is hard, complete opposite from my van, almost causing me to wreck.

2.  The boys were crazy, and didn't have any homework done, or respect for the teacher once again.  (That was not something special for today, but just a daily occurrence.)

3.  Gave a spelling test, on which my boys still didn't get A's, even though we worked on them for 2 hours each day this week.

4.  Had one of them refuse to do the reading assignment, which was a book report he had all week to do.

5.  Only got one plate of food for lunch, instead of two.  Usually she loads me full of food, but today it didn't happen.  Couldn't figure this one out.  Maybe she thinks I'm fat.

6.  Had a student announce to the middle school class that Mr. Samir and I preform sexual acts on each other.  Needless to say, we went off on him, along with the principal and he has to write 150 pages, front and back of "I will always respect my teacher," and he is not allowed in school until then.

7.  Had no idea what was going on in my pottery station at our DOOR formal gala tonight.

8. AND....for the first time had nothing really to write about that seemed interesting.

Today was very boring and typical, as it slowly went by.  Nothing stuck out, except for the fact the boys actually got B's on their spelling tests, instead of the typical F's.  It really was awesome to see them sit and work on it, trying to get good grades.  And for once, even though they weren't perfect tests, they were trying, anxious to see their grades, and happy with what they got as a grade.  I feel like we need to make adjustments to the class, getting rid of cancer once again, to help us out.  As bad as I hate to say this, there are two tumors in the class, and they are the two that were added halfway through.  The one boy is the one who made the sexual comment in class.  I then was approached by his sister-in-law that the boys in my class pick on him.  This turned into an hour long discussion with the principal and other teachers, giving all sorts of examples how bad this kid is in class, and he is most definitely not the victim, but the cause of everything bad in the classroom.  This kid has no discipline, and today, he made the (pardon my French) shit hit the fan in the school with his comment.  All hell broke loose, or seemed to from my eyes, in the office with the little meeting.  However, I was very pleased with the outcome, as the sister-in-law left more on our side, realizing how this boy acts in school.  I was glad someone from the family finally showed interest in the boys education and came to talk.  Now, hopefully we can get him on the right track in class, and finish this semester on a high note!  It is going to be tough, but I am still going to turn these guys lives around and make a difference in them before I leave.  If they don't learn how to read, algebra, or science in Mr. Isaac's classroom, they will learn that there is someone out there who cares for them, even in the darkest moments.  Who cares if he lives 31 hours away in a small, farm community in Kansas.  At least they know there is good in the world they are living in.

OH MAGGIE!

So it has really been a while since we have seen much of Maggie.  As she used to come over all the time, sometimes two or three times a day, the frequent rapping on the door has stopped.  Maybe things are better for her with her husband at home, or maybe we upset her, telling her to go home several times, however, she has returned.  Tonight, I hear the beating on the door, followed by Megan saying, "Hi Maggie!"  We are much friendlier when we see her once a mont, not once an hour.  She continues to say hello, but quickly says, "Is Isaac here?  Isaac or JJ please!"  Of course I know to get my phone ready for her to call.  She knows our house phone no longer works, so she takes the next step of using our personal cell phones.  I can not get it in my heart to say no, so I always dial the number she gives me, then hand the phone to her.

She promises just one call.  One, long call, that she yells the whole time in Spanish at the poor person on the other end.  JJ translates, as I finally realize she is indeed very upset with the woman telling her just to listen, because it is now her time to talk.  Or yell.  The phone call ends, but of course she needs another call.  At what point are you allowed (christian wise) to tell her it is time for her to leave, and show the light of Christ while trying not to be impolite.  It is a very narrow line to walk, but one we do all the time.  It wouldn't be that big of deal, but she always comes at the wrong times.  We were just walking out the door for supper, which had to be delayed for an hour so she could continually yell at people.  This lady is not friendly to ANYONE she calls.  It is very odd.  I could not stand to be the person on the other end, doing my job like I am supposed to be.  

Tonight she called the Social Security people (she said in NYC) and just yelled her lungs out.  I couldn't believe it.  What if they track the phone to me, and think I am some bad person, or think it is my mom, since it is obviously a woman voice.  She has no courtesy while using other people's things.  She gets upset because they ask her to repeat her SS number to them, because her broken English makes it hard for anyone to understand.  Constantly demanding a new person who is polite, she wastes more and more of our time.  Finally, Erin gets up and tells her we really need to be going, as it is getting fairly late.  Of course Maggie responds with, "Who are you to tell me what to do with Isaac's phone?  It is not your phone!"  Well, what do I do now?  I hate these things!  Finally she just hangs ups and leaves because she feels pressured to.

So where do we draw the line?  When we think we had the problem from earlier this year figured out, it seems to be coming back as she promised to be back tomorrow again to try it all over.  In what ways can we learn from Maggie and the way that she is?  Is this a way to reach out to people who are in need, but letting them use up our time and minutes on a phone?  She obviously needs help, but we do not know how to give it to her.  She obviously needs money, but every time she is over she is most definitely drunk and reeks of cigarettes.  We have given and given money to her, but she always needs more!  Is there a way to minister stewardship to her without being completely rude to her?  Sometimes it feel like a lost cause.  I do not remember signing paper work that we would be dealing with this sort of culture in Miami.  I just have to remember that she is part of God's plan somehow.  Possibly, after a few weeks, years or decades after leaving this city, I will know what I learned from having this lady in our house.  Maybe my good deeds will be payed back!  It will be interesting to wait and see.

HOW TO BE LAZY

THOOSH! The sunlight breaks through my window and into my eyes, every morning at the same time.  The blinding rays break through the thin walls of skin protecting my eyes, revealing to me that it is once again time to wake up.  However, being my first, real, day off of work since starting here (Not counting weekends, days without kids, days I took off or anything, an actual day given off) I happily put my pillow over my head and journey back into the land of the dinosaurs to continue killing off all the Tyrannosaurus Rex before they can attack my hand-built potters wheel.  Call me random I don't care, at least I have a good imagination.  

Finally, God tells my body it has enough rest, and I spring out of bed.  Well, spring might be too excited of a word.  I roll out of bed and onto my feet to great another morning (midmorning).  As I fell asleep watching a movie, I decide to finish it before doing anything else.  The couch is comforting as I lay down in it, still in my pajamas wondering how my room mates are doing at work.  Half of us worked today, but Julie, Megan and I were all blessed with a day off.  

Ok, enough of trying to spice up my life.  Today was most likely one of the most boring days I have had since coming.  There is nothing to do when everyone is at work.  I had flirted with the idea of the beach, but I had just enough stuff here to do that kept me at home all day.  Laundry was piled so high in the designated "laundry corner" of my room that I got out the step stool to reach the top.  Underwear has been turned inside out and used again, just out of shear laziness.  I became good friends with the garage today, as I spent the most time I ever have out there switching clothes from washer to drier, then out and starting new loads.  In the meantime, while the machines were doing my work for me, I was inside watching all sorts of movies.  One in particular, that I tried to watch the entire thing, yet, still haven't finished.  Veggietales: Jonah.  It really is a good movie, just in the form of teaching children, yet, I could not keep my eyes open.  The 1 hour 30 minute movie has taken me over 10 hours and I'm still not done.  I would watch about 5 minutes then be back in the land of the dinosaurs for an hour, fighting and protecting my property from various oversized lizards.  

While today really seemed like a waste, as I encountered no one basically other than my room mates (well JJ and I did take a trip to a friends house who has a kiln which we are using to fire some bowls I made for a DOOR fundraiser, but not counting them) it really was good to relax and get away from the stresses of work.  And what better day to have off than Wednesday.  It is the worst day of the week, as it is directly in the middle.  Stupid hump day.  Hopefully the rest will prove to be useful in the coming two days.  Only a week and four days separate me from Thanksgiving break and seeing friends in the Chicago area for a wedding.  It is going to be great!

180 DEGREES DIFFERENCE

"Come in, sit down, get out your homework and be quiet!" I order as my students walk into the newly arranged classroom.  "What is with the tables facing the walls?  How am I supposed to learn if I am staring at a wall?  Man, this is stupid."  They obviously were excited for the change, but I blew off the comments and stuck my what I had said.  "Sit down!" I say as I stare them down, making them back down into their chairs quickly.  Because I am tall, they automatically think I am strong and aggressive.  Two things I most definitely am not.

As I sit and wait, only a few assignments come my way, as one student did everything and two others only did the fun thing as homework; the word search.  One student was absent, for the seventeenth time this year, and the other was busy writing lines, since he never does anything in class.  One line equals one page, front and back, covered in the sentence we pick for them.  In this case it reads, "I will respect the teacher."  This particular boy was assigned three lines, which he didn't complete, so they kept doubling.  By today, he was at 60 lines, and not allowed in school/class until it was finished.  He sat there in the classroom and tried to talk, but I informed him if I heard so much as a peep out of him, I was kicking him out of school.  Forever.  And he knows I am serious, because I have his Parol Officer on speed dial, and putting him back in jail would be his best option right now.  

With the class knowing I am nothing but serious right now, they listen as I explain the bartering system in our class with class money used to give them rights, such as getting a drink or using the restroom.  I explained ways to gain more money, and ways to use it, however, it would be in their best interest to save the money for bigger prizes, or for extra credit.  I have never seen these boys so quiet and so eager to do their work in class without talking.  They want that money.  Usually, the day starts by me either giving out 5 pencils, or sharpening 5 pencils.  Today, when Oliver announced to the class that he couldn't find a writing utensil, I gladly held out my pen and said, "Here, take it."  "No way, Mister Isaac.  I am not wasting my money on that.  It is a waste of money.  I know it is in here somewhere."  This would have never happened without Eagle Dollars.  

I also bargained with the boys and their spelling tests.  Reading and spelling is our main focus with the ones I work with, so getting good spelling test grades is vital to their success.  They, however, think eating breakfast at school is vital to success, and they ask for it every day.  Now, if they get an A on my spelling test, they are allowed breakfast all the following week.  It really is amazing to see how these boys are studying, getting dictionaries to find definitions, and working diligently without interruptions.  They even voluntarily ran to the bathroom to get paper towels when I spilled juice all over.  This-is-AMAZING!  It couldn't be working better.

The day finished without any major blowups or disruptions.  In times that I was not ready for them with assignments or homework to be doing, they catch on and get busy making trouble.  One word of me telling them it is going to cost their money if they don't sit down, and they are sprinting to their chairs.  But three o'clock came and went and football practice came.  Hopefully the last one.  (As a coach I did not say that, just for the record.)  We got them there, and started running.  If they were late we had them doing pushups.  When someone talked back, the whole team was doing pushups.  After our blow up last week when the team told us they didn't want to play anymore (and when we as coaches said 'ok' and skipped practice for a week) they decided to come back and listen to what we say, knowing we WILL give up on them after all they have put us through.  I have never seen kids run so much and do so many pushups in my life.  They keep telling the principal how we as coaches lose the game because we never tell them when they are doing good, but only yell when they mess up.  Therefore, today, we showed them how bad they were, and ran them.  I feel bad saying this, but really, they are not good, and now they understand they have to try in practice to be good in a game.  Lots was accomplished as we sparked a fire under their butt.  If we played anyone tomorrow, I guarantee we would win, but we aren't that lucky.  No school tomorrow, and a game on Thursday, so it will be interesting what happens.

But, in the meantime, one great day of school and one great day of practice, all in a single day.  I now see why I keep coming back to work every day.  Because I know, deep down inside, there is going to be one good day every now and then that makes life fun, and today was that day.  I just hope it isn't the last one before I leave.  I now know these boys have the work ethic in class and sports, and I can quit blaming it on their culture.  I think we finally are taking Haiti out the boys and showing them there are more options than living poor because you cant get an education or being bad on a team because you have never had to work.  I can't wait to see the improvement each and everyday.  Life is now exciting!!!

A FRESH BEGINNING

Nothing is working.  Everything is seeming to fail.  Maybe this is why my boys are so far behind?  I can see it, my principal can see it and something has to change.  But what is it?

As I meet with my principal today, it is obvious something has to change.  At the beginning of the year, no boys in my class could read.  Well, one could, but he still needed lots of help.  Every day we would work on phonics, spelling, reading and writing.  However, after a way, a slowly weaned them away from this schedule, and threw in math, social studies and science.  I had found something I enjoyed teaching, something the kids liked to learn and something we could both have fun with.  However, reading started slipping.  The improvements started to change into falling backwards.  Therefore, we have to change the curriculum up.

Right in the middle, or on the back half, of the year and the curriculum is all up in the air.  What do I teach these boys?  I am now instructed to change them strictly to a reading curriculum and that is it.  Start over on everything, dropping science and social studies, and a bit of math.  Read, read, read, read, read.  This is my new schedule.  These boys WILL read.  It is their destiny and mine to teach them the ropes that they can use to get across this valley in their life.  It will not be easy, however, it is going to happen.  

To make things easier, a system is going to have to be put in place to get them to do their work.  When there is cancer in the body, it is taken out, giving life back to a person.  Well, same goes for a classroom.  We are removing some cancer that is going to help us out.  Not all the cancer is being removed as the tumors in my classroom are spread all around, yet, the mother tumor is now gone.  We put one of the students back in the mainstream classroom today, as he is not in my class for help, but for discipline issues.  Without him, the learning will increase in my room.  I am looking forward to having a class without as much disruptions and it starts with this change.  A reward system is now in place as well.  Today, I changed the room all up, assigned seats, and made what I call, "Eagle Dollars."  It is a system put in place to make them learn how to manage money as well as learn some discipline.  When they do good things they get money.  When they act up or want something, such as a drink, it will cost them.  They also have prizes if so much money is collected, such as breakfast (which they love) or lunch out on the teacher.  (Which secretly I hope they don't get because I have no money, but if they do, I will take them.)  I am praying the changes are really going to help these boys out as well as make my last few weeks here go extremely smooth.

Today, I had yet another parent teacher conference.  The only weird thing about it was the mom did not speak English.  Therefore, the principal made the student I was doing the conference on, come interpret everything.  Now you are going to tell me that this kid actually told her everything?  You have got to be kidding me.  I went on with it though, not holding anything back just because the student was there, but I said everything the mom needed to know, and it didn't hurt him either to hear it.  Oddly enough, I do think he actually translated correct, because that mom ripped in to him in Creole and kept that finger right in his face and she seemed to be swearing on her life that he had better change.  It was hard not to laugh, but somehow I bit my lower lip.  These mothers have some respect in Haitian culture.  It is awesome to see that someone does.  I'd like to paint my skin a dark brown, put on a wig, throw in some implants and put a name tag that says, "mom" on it and go to class.  Maybe I would start to get respect.

While my time in Miami is an amazing experience and I wouldn't trade it for anything, it seems to be catching up to me.  Nothing has really seemed to go in my favor lately.  Every day I am tested by these kids as they try to make fun of my culture, my music, my way of life, and sometimes I feel like I have a net on my head that catches everything.  It is hard to let them go.  However, by this experience, it gives me an opportunity to see how others view us from an outside world.  White, country folk always have jokes about black, city people.  I have head them all.  Maybe, this is a little getting back at me, for the jokes I have told in my life about other cultures.  A friend once told me that everything in life is a lemon, and it is my responsibility to see how I can turn that lemon into lemonade.  And this is so true.  The experience that I get everyday is something I would never have had if I stayed at home this semester.  The person I am growing into would be totally shaped into something else.  I am starting to notice that this lemonade is really turning very bland quickly, and I hope that I can add some sort of sugar to turn it into something sweet.  It started off better, but everything has its ups and downs.  Maybe I am just in a very low valley right now, but a mountain is up ahead.  I hope that I can just finish this out strong making everyone else happy that I am working with including students, parents and staff.  I'm praying this change in classroom structure tomorrow is going to hoist me up!  I am sure it will!  There is not doubt in my mind.  Starting tomorrow, my class is going to be the best one in Miami.  Students will start acting like they can't read, just so they can come experience Mister Isaac's classroom!!

DISAPPOINTMENT!

Entertaining guests is something that is always hard to do.  Well, let me rephrase that.  Not always hard, but sometimes inconvenient.  Entertaining in Miami is always very easy to do, as there is at least 5 things every person on the Earth would like.  The opportunities are endless.  The thing that is hard, is making sure everything works out.

Saturday morning, Becky and I planned on going to Versailles, a Cuban Cuisine and bakery just down the road.  While I had never been there before, I was unsure about it all, but with Becky and her Spanish, I knew it would be the best time to go.  We had an amazing breakfast of steak and eggs, hashbrowns, and a side of bread I politely declined.  I also got a cup of Cuban coffee, which is all it is set out to be.  It really is a good coffee, and I am not really a coffee fan.  As we left, there are always Cuban men sitting around talking, and one in particular was in a black suit, with a hat and some stellar sunglasses.  He had a sign that, in Spanish read, "The Castros are a big ball of shit!"  Of course we went over and chatted with him, and took some pictures with him as well.  What a great start to the day.

After this, we did some errands and then decided that we should go check out the Everglades.  I knew where I had taken my parents, and had a great time, but we saw sign for an indian reservation that offered boat rides as well, so we went deeper in and finally found this place.  While it sounded cool, their marketing people do a better job than most.  This place was a junky place just on the side of the road, ran by some indians.  It was only $10 for a ride, so we climbed in and took off.  The boat carried about 20 souls across the river, but, we were the only ones.  And the indian driver who didn't say a word the whole time.  It really was one of the worst experiences I have had since being down here.  It couldn't end quick enough and we took out of there laughing because of what we had just encountered.  It was very lame.  We took off back toward the city, and away from the very hick lifestyle of "alligator wrestlers."

Our next plan was to go eat Cuban again, as we both really like it, and you can't get it really anywhere else in the states other than Miami.  So we wanted to get our fill while Becky was here.  Before we made it there, we spotted a casino so we decided to see what this little place was about.  It was unlike one I had ever been to so we went after Lady Luck and went in.  We noticed the huge sign, revealing we once again were messing with the same indians, and they once again revealed to us that we should never go visit this tribe again.  Everything was pitiful inside that place.  Usually I like a good casino, but this place was nothing but lame.  Very lame.  We made enough to be one meal for lunch, then took out towards Sergio's Cuban Cuisine.

For lunch, we both order a Cuban pork dish that was very amazing.  We think it is slow roasted with the juices remaining in the meat, then fried.  It is a very delicious taste as it was covered in sauteed onions and topped with a Mojito sauce.  The perfect ending for a crappy morning of air boat rides.  

Before we could do anything else, we took a nap at the house, then set out in the opposite direction towards Key Biscayne.  We had looked up prices of renting a bike, and planned on riding them around the island.  Once again, we got to the island (place we had planned everything out, just like in the 'Glades) however, we had forgot to look up the address for the bikes.  We couldn't find the rental anywhere, so our trip there was turned short and we just went to downtown Miami.  Part of downtown is a place called the Design District, which I have always wanted to go to, but never found time.  Therefore, we went to check it out.  Once again, everything was closed, and seemed much better online, as there was only like 4 stores and they were all home design, not quite what we were expecting.  On our way we had spotted an art supply store, so instead of looking at design, we took out walking, which, we went about 3 miles and never found it.  It was starting to feel like God was against our kind of fun today.  

Sleepless Nights in Miami is a huge event, all free, and lasts from 6PM to 7AM on Saturday night, so we knew this was going to turn out good.  It was live artists, music and everything else artsy that you could think of.  150 free exhibits.  We drove around for an hour looking for parking, since, parking a 15-passenger van is not an easy task.  For once, something was watching out for us, as we found a free parking lot, but it was about 7 miles away from everything.  Lucky we had free shuttles all night.  We got out and got ready to go, but once again hadn't looked up where anything was at.  We had no idea.  We just followed a crowd that seemed to know where to go, who entered a circular, outdoor stage.  We walked in to find ourself in an opera.  This days does find ways to keep getting worse.  We quickly exited and found ourself on the patio of yet, another Cuban Cuisine, listening to a guitar player so was very Cuban as well.  Being just across the street from the opera, he cranked the system and played like he was giving his last concert.  Within minutes, we had opera characters in dress, interrupting our concert to tell him to quiet down.  It was quite funny as he acted like he didn't speak English, and would only respond in Spanish, telling them no.  

After we had ate and listened to our share of guitar, we took out finding other exhibits.  Some good some bad, but it was an exciting meeting with everyone in Miami being in the streets together.  At about 1:30, we left the beach and headed home to bed.  The quick weekend with family was coming to a close, but at least it was one full of memories that we will laugh about for a long time to come.  

COUSINS

As for school, it went very well.  Well, I guess I can't say very well.  There were the normal troubles that I have with students, but by now this is just normal.  However, during lunch something extravagant happened that I will never forget.  It was as if it was planned for shooting a movie about troubled kids in the inner city.  I was outside for lunch when one of the ladies volunteering at the school for the day came out to talk to me.  She informed me that we had the best behaved children she had ever worked with.  I told her there was a mistake in how she said this to me, as I know these children are not the best.  She repeated it saying she hates working in the public schools, because they students are so disrespectful to their teachers and everyone in the school, but at our school, they all stand up and greet a visitor as they walked in the room.  Right at that moment, a bag of Capri-Sun (a fruit drink for kids) flew across the lunchroom, missing the ladies face by about 2 inches and landed at my foot.  I could not help but laugh at what had just happened, because it was such perfect timing, making my point proven to her.

At 2:30 I left the school to head North to Ft. Lauderdale.  Becky Crosthwait, my oldest cousin on the Shue side was flying in to come hang out for the weekend.  How pumped I was to have another familiar face come to town and hang out.  I picked her up about 3 o'clock then headed back to the house, making a brief stop at school.  When we got to the house, we settled in for a bit, putting on comfortable clothes and good shoes, then took out walking.  Where else that Little Havana, the neighborhood I live in.  This is perfect for Becky, as she is fluent in Spanish, and gave her a chance to whip it out on some old Cuban men at the local eateries that we hit up.  We walked down the main street in Little Havana called "Calle Ocho" (8th street) which stretches about 10-15 miles through Miami.  We walked and walked, stopping for food and conversation with strangers, but all good people.  Finally, we decided to turn around as we had almost made it downtown.  If unknown, I live a good 40 blocks from downtown, which means we had walked that, and had to get back without money for the buses.  We walked, altogether, about 8 miles, most being in the dark.  It was quite the experience, and one that I have not really had yet with anyone.  It was awesome to get out and see the neighborhood that I live in.  With Becky, I have a translator, which I don't have otherwise.

After getting back to the house, we went out for some amazing, fresh sushi where we sat and talked with the chefs one-on-one for about an hour while eating and afterwards as well.  They taught us how to make the fun garnishes that come with all the dishes.  While they look very complex and fancy, there is nothing to them, just a little more time that peeling it normally.

All in all the weekend was off to a great start!  Only better things will come with the rest!

CHANGING A YOUNG MANS LIFE ONE STEP AT A TIME

Coming back to work from a long week off is always a tough thing to do.  However, you never know what to expect to comeback to.  Sometimes it may be good, others may be worse, but the way this week has been, is never the way you want to come back.

After reading their letters and hearing them say that they want me to come back, the boys have not really proven to have been telling the full truth.  Homework has not been done, attitudes have been flaring, and no one has been giving it their all.  To top things off, they have all been bringing things in to class that is not really supposed to be there.  Everyone thought that they should bring shades, necklaces, or forget their time at home.  Just yesterday, I heard some music being played, and the sound indicated that it was obviously coming from headphones in one of my boys ears.  Someone had an mp3 player, and I was determined to get it.

Later on in the day, I saw one boy have a headphone in his right ear with the wire strategically going down the inside of his shirt to the player in his shorts.  I told him to give it to me, as he willingly did, knowing I wasn't putting up with anything like that, and I also would never back down.  Putting up a fight is pointless, because in my dictatorship in my classroom, I never lose.  Well, he pulled it out and out fell a razor blade onto the chair.  I don't think much of it, but pick it up and ask what it is for.  He replies, "So if anyone tries me."  This being a threat, we can not take it lightly and I get the principal involved.  It was one of the most vicious butt-chewings I had ever witnessed, yet, that was all that happened.  I didn't know if I should feel safe, or in danger, but I sure let him know that I was not happy with what was going on with his attitude.  The day continued on as if nothing had happened, but I was sure to watch my back as you of course would be a bit nervous.

Today, his father was required to come in and meet with us, which went very smooth.  The father seemed very supportive of us, and even more disappointed in his son.  It was hard to watch my students face sink, as I knew that he was, deep down inside, a very good kid.  Things continued on until lunch when everyone left, but this boy stayed.  "Can I talk to you Mr Isaac?"  Of course I am never going to turn a student down that wants some of my time, so I engage into his conversation.

Over the next 30 minutes, I heard a young man from the hood of Little Haiti, Miami, Florida, spill his guts to me, exclaiming that he would really like to change.  However, his life is so far in the wrong direction, it is very hard for him to get on the right track.  That right track starts in my classroom.  "I never wanted to hurt anyone Mr. Isaac.  I forgot it was in my pocket.  You know me.  You know that I don't have it in me to ever hurt anyone.  I hate the site of blood, and never want to hurt anything."  My heart ached as I knew he was telling the truth.  He could very well be in jail this morning for the actions he took the day before when bringing a weapon to school.  Had this happened, I would feel guilty for the rest of my life, and he simply did make a mistake. 

But who is to say that he was not lying to me?  Looking into this kids eyes, I could tell he was not throwing out a random line trying to fool his teacher.  This boy is nothing but serious in these talks.

So what is it that he sees in me that he can come to me and tell me all these insights to his secretive life?  I am not sure.  Or, I wasn't until he opened his mouth to speak.  "I don't respect anyone else in this school Isaac, because no one else here ever respects me.  I have never had a teacher respect me like you do.  I know that you care for us and do what is best."  This could be the key words to one of the hardest things or tasks put in front of me.  I hope God has picked the right patriarch to take on this challenge that will test every nerve in my body.  But what me?  What do I have that someone else doesn't?  I can't wait to find out! 

HAITI VIDEO

HAITI!! DAY 8 AND REFLECTION

Sunday, November 1, 2009-Last day in Haiti  Day 8

 

            This day in Haiti was quite short, as the morning was totally booked with getting the entire clinic clean as a whistle and packing the car with all the luggage for the trip back to the capital.  We ate our final breakfast of eggs, hotdogs, onions and peppers, then settled into the car for our last trip down the long road between Port au Prince and Jacmel. 

            We all fit into the car extremely well, except for the poor girl we had hired to cook.  Mr. Valentine wanted her to come along, but made her sit in the backseat with all the luggage, with less than one inch moving room on each side of her.  I felt very bad, but he said she sits in tighter spots on the public transportation busses, which I know is very true.

            The trip to the airport was very uneventful, as we all were dozing in and out of sleep.  But we eventually made it to the airport.  After one week of being in extreme heat and no AC, I was ready to be back in my Miami home.  We checked in through the hundreds of metal detectors, insuring we did not purchase anything illegal and try to bring it in, then got in line.  Everything was very smooth as we successfully check in on standby and got a flight about 4 hours earlier than scheduled, getting us home in the mid afternoon instead of later at night.  With work the next morning, this was a great change in plans for me.  I had lots of preparing to do. 

 

Conclusion/Thoughts after the trip

 

            While being in a place like Haiti, I feel that lessons are not really learned or realized until arriving back to your comfort zone.  You have to take time to process what you really experienced and were a part of for a week.  While still submerged in the culture, it is hard to see what exactly you have until you get back to it and see what you take for granted. 

            While only being in Haiti for a short week, compared to those who go overseas for a year or two, I still felt like I saw enough and learned enough to really have an impact on my life and how I view things.  Growing up, we all had basically anything we needed in life to make it easier for us.  When it is hot, we have an AC, and when it is cold we have a heater.  Electricity is something we no longer think about.  We don’t even process what all happens when we flip a simple switch and the light comes on.  It just happens.  Well, for a week, that didn’t happen.  We were forced to adjust to a lifestyle, creating ways to get tasks done without the appropriate tools we are armed with while living in such a spoiled culture such as the one in America.             

            Coming back home, I look around the house at all the things that fill our walls.  Things we do not need or use, yet, we have them just lying around wasting space.  We have things such as electric fireplaces, because we now are too lazy to even strike a match to start a fire.  Strike a match?  Honestly?  We just turn a knob and instant heat.  What is the point?  Why do I live in a culture that is rich enough to buy a riding lawn mower AND purchase a monthly membership to a gym?  Even a push mower!  Anyone I saw last week would love to have one of those.  If I were to take a machete to anyone in the states and tell them to mow a lawn with it, they would look at me like I was stupid.  If I did the same in Haiti, or other third-world countries, they would respond with, “Which lawn?”

            The fact that we have everything at our fingertips and we do not appreciate it drives me insane.  I come back to my school, where the kids were living in the cultures of Haiti just about 9 short years ago.  However, they have forgotten everything and think the world owes them something now that they are American.  They forget about their old friends and family members who still walk 4 miles a day just to get some water to cook or bath with.  Now, they just turn a knob and complain when the hot water is gone.  And drinking water?  It is ice cold at the touch of a button.  What happened to boiling water to clean it, then chilling it in a fridge that runs 12 hours a day before you are allowed a chilled drink of water?  What happened to that?  Getting caught up in our lazy, spoiled and too wealthy culture is what happened!  Why does God spoil us, to make us want more and more things.  These are all thoughts that ran through my head as I brushed my teeth Monday morning, as I washed it out with tap water, and then hesitated to put it in my mouth afraid of parasites.  I then reminded myself I was back home and it was ok.  Had that water picket not produced water at the turn of the knob, I would have been furious as I had to walk to the kitchen and give it a try.  Yet, the rest of the world knows nothing like this exists.

            It hurts me to think of my brother and sisters in Haiti who eat food out of the ravines next to dirty hogs and cows as I pull through a drive through or pop in a Pop Tart when I want a tiny snack.  With the price I pay for two cheeseburgers, one workingman makes that much to support his family of 5 each day in another country.  Yet, the world still owes me something because I grow up in America.  Then, we as Americans wonder why the rest of the world hates us.  If I saw a country come into my home and take our produce for dirt-cheap, then charge 10 times the amount in America and keep the profits, I would be furious as well.  Why the world is not fair is a question that will continue to haunt me until the day God calls my name. 

            I will not soon forget my experience in Haiti and how just a short time in its borders will touch me for a lifetime.  I learned more from people that I speak 3 words of the same language than I could learn in a lifetime from people who live the same sorts of ways I do here in the United States of Spoiled America.  While I say this, I still love my home and country, just wish I could bring back some change in people’s hearts and their ways they are living their lives.  Why do we deserve to live in peace and comfort when others go through hell and back each day just to keep their baby from crying?  I want to change the world.  Even if it is only by changing the feelings in one person’s heart, I will change the world!

           

 

HAITI!! DAY 7

Saturday, October 31, 2009-Halloween  Day 7 

 

            We wake up for our last full day in Haiti.  Knowing we have lots to do, we get right to work, allowing more time for us to drive around and see the country since we were not tied down to the clinic for the day.  We clean the rooms, dusting, sweeping, mopping and organizing everything we were leaving.  Running around like this proved to be very tiring, especially with no electricity to cool us off in any fashion.  Instead, to get any wind, we had to run around, feeling the breeze blow by us, which eventually made us even sweatier.  We did this until we heard that breakfast was waiting for us.

            We went down to collect on our usual helpings of eggs and avocados.  While we younger ones were always first to eat, we finished before Mr. Beauregard and Mr. Valentine had even reached the table.  We got out our trusty pack of cards and dealt a few games out to entertain us until it was time to leave. 

            They informed us that we were going to be going to a river that was fun to dig a hole in, then just sit and let the current sweep over your body.  We all changed into swimming attire and feel comfortable for the occasion.  We then all marched to the car, excited for the days adventure. 

            We took out shortly after, driving what seemed like forever, until finally, we came to what was the river.  To me, it looked like a rock quarry.  Rocks were covering every square inch of the river, and the sides.  I am used to rivers being surrounded by trees, mud and dirt, and an occasional rock.  This, however, was nothing the same.  Huge rocks, small rocks, and only rocks were present.  The road turned into these rocks and we continued to drive.  There is no chance that I would ever take my car over these rocks, but in Haiti, it wasn’t even a thought to NOT keep going.  Then, the road turned into a rushing river.  Think it stopped us?  Once again, not a chance.  We pounded through it as I remembered playing Oregon Trail when I was little.  I just felt like one of those wagons and was just waiting for us to sink or flip.  While nothing scary like that happened, we made it across and parked the car.  We all got out excited to swim, but devastated at what we saw.  Everyone in Haiti was here bathing, going to the bathroom, and washing their clothes.  The river had many uses in Haiti.  There were people everywhere, doing all sorts of different things and wearing all different sorts of things.  People in hats, shorts, jeans, shirts and even wearing nothing.  It was like an X rated river, but no one in Haiti noticed or cared.  Their culture does not make things like this sexual like the states does.  A woman can walk around topless there and no one thinks a thing of it.  Little boys were darting in and out of every bend of the river, not even worried that their man-hood was flapping around in the wind.  It is NATURAL there!  Was it weird for me?  Of course, but you eventually get over it and go on with life.  I can guarantee it wasn’t anyone who would be posing in PLAYBOY or anything like that anyways.

            We kept walking down stream until we came to a part that seemed tame enough for us to be without attracting all the attention.  Stripped down to our suits and jumped in.  The water was nipping out our legs, as it seemed so cold.  This was only because it was so hot outside that the water was so refreshing and chilly.  Doing what we told was fun, we tried to sit down and let the water flush over our skin, however, the current was so strong, there was no way this was going to be possible.  We were being forced downstream.  So, to enjoy what we heard was amazing, we each found a larger rock, straddled it so that the water was pushing it into us, and sat there.  This was the only way to not be moved by the current.  We sat in this position for quite some time, enjoying the sun beating down on us, yet, still feeling very chilly from the water.  It was a very peaceful way to spend my Saturday morning after a stressful week of working in the harsh heat of Haiti.

            After we had enough, we got out and carried our stuff to the car where Mr. Valentine was waiting for us.  We marched over these rocks in flip-flops, dodging the piles of feces that the little children had left behind.  It was like walking on a minefield in Iraq.  One wrong step and you would wish you had watched where you were walking.  When we finally made it back to the car, we were all totally dry, slipped back into our clothes and took out for lunch back at the clinic. 

            On the way back, we had to stop at the market to pick up some plantains.  Now when this happens, we were always told, “just wait here about 15 minutes and we will be right back.”  We eventually learned this was never true, but we would just wait.  Like we had really any other choice.  While sitting in the car, I would always watch the thousands of people walking by and staring at me as they passed.  Then, one man passed by and had a shirt on that really caught my eye.  It was an Amish buggy with “AMISH COUNTRY” written above it.  Below the buggy “SUGARCREEK, OHIO” read in big bold letters.  Alicia and I, the two Mennonites on the trip, shared a nice laugh about that.

            When we got back to the clinic, we napped for a bit while the cook was preparing the food we brought back, but we ate as fast as we could to get back out on the roads.  We had plans of going to a waterfall that was supposed to be very pretty.  Only problem was, we had no idea where to go. 

            As we took out, we decided to go ask someone for directions.  We headed straight for downtown Jacmel, but no one seemed to know where it was.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road at a house with a boy outside.  He claimed to know, but instead of telling us, he just got in and said he needed to take a bath anyways, so he would come along.  From the sounds of the Creole in the argument, his family didn’t like the idea, but we set out.  He led us through town, across two rivers full of bathing people, through plantain fields and seemed to be a little lost.  Finally, he knew where he was and took us on back roads.  The sign said we were going to have to hike 5 kilometers one way, which, wearing my flip-flops, I was not impressed.  I would have rather just gone back to the internet café and GOOGLED it.  However, Valentine just kept on driving.             

            This road proved to be the bumpiest, most chopped up road I had ever been on.  The top of my head eventually became well acquainted with the top on the car, and my bald spot started growing as my hair was getting wiped away from the cloth on the ceiling.  After passing through many people making their way to Jacmel with their jugs balanced on their head, we can to a place up the mountain with a “$10 parking” sign painted on a wall.  We were instructed to park the car and get out, as we could drive no further.  We were told we had to walk fifteen minutes, as the tour guide came out with a long rope.  “We need this to repel down some steep rocks, but it isn’t dangerous,” he informed us as he started down the rocky trail.  We followed along as they were being as kind as possible, trying to get the largest tip possible for taking us.  We past many brilliant views, jumped through rivers and climbed over rocks.  We made jokes that this had better not be a little trickle.  They informed us there were three basins, 17 foot-deep, 52 foot-deep, and 75 foot-deep, in which we could dive into any of them off the fall.  We passed the first two, seeing nothing too special.  We then, waited in line, forced to take off our shoes, and one by one repelled down this rock form soaked in water.  Don’t worry, we were all harassed in and very well protected.  Right!  This proved to be not that dangerous as I could have done it alone without the rope, but safety first.  As we got to the bottom and looked around the corner, we could see the deep basin and hear the splash from the waterfall.  We all put all out stuff down, gave the guides our cameras and jumped in, swimming around the rocks to reveal the site.  It was amazing.  While it was not the sweetest fall I had ever seen, it still was very attractive, and secluded.  No one but ourselves were there.

            Right away, the tour guides (5 of them I think) swam to the falls and started scaling the rocks.  I jumped in and just followed them, not sharing any signs of fear.  That was about the last moment when I showed no signs of fear.  They all went into the falls, and started climbing the rocks with the water pouring in their faces, but had no difficulties getting to the upper rocks.  (There were three levels to jump from:  about 8 feet, about 20 feet and about 50 feet)  For them, it was second nature.  For me, it was hell to look down, as I have only gone off a 2 foot diving board before.  Looking down and seeing little people really set your eyes into focus of how high you really are, even though it doesn’t look it from down below. 

            I was helped up the waterfall, to the second tier then told myself, “I’m going to the top.  I am not a sissy.”  Two minutes later I was telling myself, “I’m going down, I am a big sissy,” but didn’t care as I climbed down to the middle one.  This still was a little higher than I was comfortable, but took the plunge and took a leap of faith that there was nothing under that surface of water.  I tucked my head, said a short prayer and, “SPLASH!” I was submerged into the murky water.  However, I came up with a smile on my face, and swam right back for more. 

            I continued to dive off of this one for a while, until my heart said, “Go higher.”  The Haitian men accompanied me to the top.  I let them jump first, showing me specifically where to land.  I aimed at my target, kept my eye on it and took off.  When I jumped to the edge and got ready to jump off, my heart jumped even more and I couldn’t do it.  I almost fell in as my forward velocity was carrying me over.  Keeping my feet still on the soaked rocks was very hard, but I did it.  Otherwise I would have landed on the cliff-like rocks that I was required to jump out and over to be certain I would hit the water.  I was terrified.  I caught my composure, stepped back again and went for it.  It seemed like forever that I was falling and wanted to see every second of my daring jump that no one else in the group would do.  However, at the last second, I forgot to tuck my head into the dive.  I smacked my face right on the water, throwing my head back into my back and pushing every muscle in my face straight into my skull.  It was the weirdest feeling I have ever felt in my face.  I came up out of the water with a smile on my face, but knew I wasn’t going to go back up there again.  My diving career was over.

            Since no one else was doing anything, we decided to head back to the car, and take off for home.  By this time it was getting fairly late.  As we headed back, we had to climb the mountain instead of hike down it.  In wet flip-flops, this was very hard.  I braved the harsh, rugged cliffs and took off my shoes and hiked it barefoot, just praying I didn’t cut anything and catch a vicious infection.  My prayer was answered as we got back to the car safe and sound.

            We made the journey back to Jacmel, dropped the boy off and thanked him for his duties, then returned to the clinic.  There we were met with a quick meal and a quick shower before we once again dashed off to the beach for a huge concert.  As we sat at the concert and waited for about what seemed like 3 hours, the band we came to see still wasn’t there and we were tired of sitting around.  The next day was the day to travel home, so we decided to get back and get some rest.