He said “Thank You,” and I cried

After two months of teaching in the Samoan classroom, I shed my first tears at school the other day. However, they weren’t tears of frustration or sadness, they were tears of happiness.

For reasons I can’t discuss in this blog, one of my year 7 students missed three weeks of school, and left me wondering about him each day. Wednesday was his first day back at school and he came into my class with a smile I’ll never forget. I could tell he was excited to be back, and maybe even excited to learn.

We were talking about verbs that day and I had the students play “verb bingo” by looking for the verbs on the grid as I called out the different words. When the bell rang for lunch, I had the kids give me their bingo chips and boards as I walked around to their seats. When I got to the boy’s seat who had been gone, he handed me his papers, looked straight into my eyes and said "thank you" with a huge smile on his face. He reached his hand out to shake mine and I started getting tears in my eyes. I said "your welcome" and told him he was doing a good job. He was the last one in the room and before he left, I had to go to the corner and face away from him so he wouldn’t see me crying. He said, “have a nice day.” I managed to respond to his polite comment and told him to have a nice day as well.

At that point, for the first time since being in this country, I truly realized what my purpose is here. I felt as though I had been lifted out of this fog and could see my future here so much more clearly. This student’s simple remark of “thank you” and the smile that came with it, made all the hardships of the past six months worth it.

My mom has been a teacher for 30 years and my sister for nine years. I’ve heard them tell countless stories over the years of those students who said or did the most amazing things that reminded them why they love teaching. It’s not a job they took for the summer vacations or snow days, it’s a job they took to change a child’s life. After all these years of hearing their stories and not completely being able to relate to them, today I’m happy that I can.

The next day that is challenging, frustrating, and leaves me wondering what I’m doing here, I hope I can remind myself the way I felt this week and the way I made that boy feel after his time in my class.

Those Brave Enough

Remember those paper American flags that came in local newspapers in the weeks and months following September 11, 2001? They could be seen on people’s front doors and behind the counters of the local coffee shops. They served as reminders of our true love for country and most deserved recognition of those men and women fighting to keep it free.

As heart felt as those flags were, the paper they were printed on soon faded and for many, including me, the true understanding of sacrifice made by those men and women off at war.

I’ve now been living and working in Samoa for my Peace Corps service for nearly six months. During that time, I have been able to gain a deeper appreciation for those men and women who put themselves in harms way to protect our country.

Of course, I supported our troops before I left for the Peace Corps. However, being here away from family, in another country, with another language, culture, climate and life, has made that respect I’ve always had for them gain this new pulse. When I’m having one of those bad days or weeks, and feel discouraged, I try to remember that I’m not being shot at and having to wear bullit proof vests, glasses, and walk around in the dark with night vision goggles. I’m living in a country so peaceful that it doesn’t even have its own army. I may live in a remote village with limited phone and internet access in the country, but I have them and I can always go into town to watch a movie at the theater and grab a burger and fries.

I now know the gut-wrenching feeling of having to say goodbye to family for two years and then living my most challenging days ever, without them here at my side. But the one thing I can’t wrap my head around is the sacrifice that those men and women with children make when they leave for war. The bravery of their mission begins the moment they hug and kiss their three year old son or daughter goodbye, with the prayers that they’ll be reunited.

Not everyone is meant to join a service organization such as the Peace Corps or a domestic program such as Teach For America, and not all of us are called to serve our country in uniform to keep it safe. Nonetheless, I’ve realized that whatever sacrifices you may have to make in your life, whatever hardships you may face, you can stop and try to relate to those men and women who are brave enough to sacrifice their own lives for ours.

16 Random Things I Thought You Should Know:

1. Ants are more coordinated at carrying a dead bug down a vertical wall than across the horizontal floor.

2. While playing cards at my neighbor’s the 12 year old boy accidentally touched the bottom of my bare feet with his hand and got this grin on his face and started to laugh. It took me a few minutes to figure out he was fascinated at how smooth the bottom of my feet were. Samoans have calluses that allow them to walk on anything, including broken glass (I’ve seen it happen).

3. There have been two babies in my village that have received the name “Kyle” since my arrival. Just a coincidence? I don’t think so—in which case I’m honored.

4. If a Samoan say it’s going to rain, it’s going to rain. If they say it isn’t, it isn’t. They have this special awareness of nature,
something the weather forecasters in Michigan could use.

5. Bread left out of the refrigerator will start to mold within two days of its purchase.

6. Driving is done on the left hand side of the road. It had been the right as recent as September 2009, when the controversial
switch occurred.

7. 70-80 earthquakes occur each day, although most of them are too small to be felt. The big earthquake which caused the
devastating tsunami on 9/29/09 was an 8.3.

8. Samoa is made up of 9 islands, with two major islands, Upolu and Savai’i. The combined land area is roughly the size of Rhode Island.

9. I have this tropical shirt I bought back in 9th grade for a “tropical dress-up day.” Somehow it still fits 10 years later and who
would have thought I would be living in a place where it looks completely normal.

10. Samoa is the 10th country I’ve set foot in, outside of the United States.

11. If you ask a Samoan a question, you may just receive the “Samoan Yes,” which often can be translated to “I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”

12. The island nations of the South Pacific have a special phone service called the “coconut wireless.” If you buy a candy bar in
Apia at 9a.m. on Saturday morning, your host village will know about it before you return at 1p.m. the same day.

13. Cockroaches are as plentiful here as the common housefly back home. The nicest most modern homes still have cockroaches
that find their way inside to torture the homeowners.

14. Cockroaches are plentiful, but aunts are worse. They can be broken down into about three sizes. There are really small ones
that can find their way into ANYTHING, and there is a medium and large size. The larger black ants can bite and I hear
cause a little pain.

15. There is a very nice public library here in Samoa, but Samoans aren't allowed to check books out. On the other hand, foreigners, like me, are allowed to. Samoans don't
have a great history of returning borrowed items.

16. The prisoners here in Samoa are let out for the weekends (no joke). One of the most serious
offenders said he needed to visit his traditional healer and was permited to
leave, never to return. I'm not sure if he's been captured since.

Picture Blog

So this is a spider that lives in my bathroom. I plan on having an 8x10 made and placing the following caption below the picture: "He hasn't bit me yet, but then again, I'm not company."

Another possible quote might be borrowed from the great movie, "The Shinning." "Here's Johnny!"

Amazing Grace

On the first day of school, Feb. 1st 2010

On Wednesday, February 24, I was the only teacher from my school who showed up to work. There were about 90 kids running around the school like wild animals and I knew I had to do something to reward them for their efforts in showing up at 7:30a.m. I also wanted to do something to take control of the situation so that I could prove to myself, my ability to manage a group of kids, despite a language barrier.


I had the kids (grades 1-8) come into the school and sit for morning prayer and songs. Some of the older kids were invaluable in helping lead this and they really stepped up to the challenge. They could see I was in need of a helping hand. I will return the favor in the near future. After morning prayer and songs, I asked them to continue some songs that they knew. They started singing more up-beat fast paced songs that I never heard them sing before with the principal or other teachers around. They were pounding out beats on their backpacks and swaying side to side. They had smiles on their faces and they were having fun. I just smiled at the whole situation. Here I’ve been in the classroom for less than a month and I’m running this school by myself like a well oiled machine.

Well as the time passed, some of the grease began to dry up and things started getting a little loud. I tried asking them to be quiet in Samoan—that didn’t work. I tried asking them in English—that too didn’t work. As I stood there in the noise of a foreign language, I felt as if they were starting to tie me up in knots. I was becoming frustrated at the situation and had no better idea than to start singing. The first song that came to mind was Amazing Grace, and it was by the grace of God that they all turned their heads in amazement and stopped talking. They just sat there and listened and I didn’t even have to raise my voice one bit—I just had to stay in tune. I almost stopped singing in amazement of the change in their behavior. They didn’t understand all the words, but they understood the tone had changed in the room. I followed up with an encore of the Star Spangled Banner. I started to lose them at “whose broad stripes and bright stars…” but finished it off in the true American spirit.

I introduced some housekeeping issues: 1.) Turn off the water at the pipe outside when you are done with the water. 2.) Throw your rubbish in the rubbish pile. 3.) Don’t hit other students. 4.) Don’t throw things in the classroom. They have a long ways to go on this, but I hope to model by my behavior the proper ways to act and continue asking them to change.

I ended up letting grades 1-4 go home at 9:30a.m. because the older kids wanted to play a noun game I had taught them last week. We played for about 30 minutes before I started to lose them too. I didn’t want to press my luck to the breaking point, and decided that them going to school until 10a.m. was still better than not going at all, and I let them go home.

I learned a lot from the experience. I learned that I have enough patience and confidence to tackle such a situation. I’ve learned to be prepared for similar events in the future. I learned that the children can really enjoy school, even in challenging situations. I also learned that they look at me as a teacher figure, and that can only help as I continue my two years of service. This experience wasn’t without pot holes, but I’m at least happy we traveled the road, otherwise they would have missed out on Amazing Grace!

Cyclone Rene

Cyclone Rene has been showing her force here in Samoa. Cyclones are the equivalent of a hurricane, just given a different name in the South Pacific. Rene was a category 2 Cyclone and passed just to the east of Samoa. The winds began gusting early Friday morning and school was let out early at 10:30a.m. Peace Corps had given us warning of the storm on Thursday and advised us to prepare our emergency kits. I was boiling water all of Thursday night in preparation, as well as charging electronic devices. That has come to be a smart choice, considering the fact I lost power early Saturday morning around 2a.m. When I woke up this morning, I found that a tree had fallen down next to my house. The wind came in strong bursts and was blowing papers around the house and slamming doors. My neighbors had to reinforce their roof by placing tires on top of the metal roof. The rain came in heavy down pours that would last for several minutes and then let up. Today the weather seems to be improving. Now let’s hope my power comes on soon!

Better Than a Travel Guide

The bus is supposed to arrive at 6:00am but doesn’t make an appearance until 6:30. But then again, this is Samoa, the place where clocks didn’t exist until 100 years ago when the palagis, “white people,” introduced them to the slow paced culture. Some customs never fade. However the bus did arrive and that’s all that matters, because I haven’t been into town in a week and am in need of groceries. As I approach the bus, I wonder how many people will be making the same trip with me. Some days not as many, but as I reach for the outer handle on the bus, and climb the two wooden steps, I see today is going to be tight. But I am a palagi, and no matter how many people are on the bus, I always have a seat. It is part of the proper custom for a Samoan to stand or move to the back of the bus for a foreigner. The same custom also holds true for women, and elderly men. Age is of importance in Samoa, and on the bus, women are respected.

So as I predicted three people shuffle about so I can have a seat. It feels awkward for me to have others give up their seat for me, but soon I get use to it. I’ve tried to deny my seat and offer to stand, but they insist.

I’m the last one to board from my village. The bus climbs the hills slowly as it maneuvers the narrow road along the bluffs which overlook the Pacific Ocean. The bus is made mostly of wood with an engine that sounds like its on its last breath, but somehow it always keeps on truckin. The ceiling is low and presents challenges for those with height. I’ve bumped my head other days, but this morning I’m fully awake and aware. The leg room is limited, as the wooden seat back in front of me is usually firmly pressed against the joint of my knee. This is painful on the many speed bumps that exist in Samoa. But yet, I’m still thankful for my seat.

As we ride along, I forget about most discomfort as I listen to the unique mixes of music which are a staple on any bus in Samoa. For such a “plain Jane” piece of transportation, the Samoan buses have a speaker system that could rival the pimped-out cars on Chicago’s South side. The music offered has a distinct “island feel,” but most certainly always offers remixes of hip hop from back home, with the island feel. It is sometimes odd to look at the age demographics ridding the bus (mostly older) and then hear the music that is playing. I can’t imagine my Grandma ridding to the market on a bus that plays remixes of American hip hop, but then again this isn’t my Grandma’s culture.

After about 30 minutes, we reach the main road and it’s an hour ride along the ocean’s edge on a winding road. The sea is captivating as I watch the huge barrels of the waves crash, sometimes in beat with the music on board the bus. This is usually the time where I can’t believe I’m living in this country, by myself, with these people of another culture. It can send chills through me and can be an empowering feeling, giving me strength for another day or week.

On the way to town, our bus passes several villages, larger than mine. People can be seen in their open fales, “houses,” going about their morning routines. Kids are in the yards, some along the road. A man in a straw hat pushes a wheel-barrow toward the road. Many of the small shops already have customers standing at their counters. Under the counters of the stores are the red signs with white lettering that read, “Vialima,” advertising “Samoa’s very own Beer.”

We soon approach the outskirts of town, indicated by the paved sidewalks and curbs. Our bus makes its way to the fish market and we are in a different world than the one we started in an hour and a half ago. I often wonder how these people of such a slow pace of life handle maneuvering in the city where trucks, taxis and cars jam the streets. We de-board the bus and we scatter our own ways. It’s nearly 8:00am and we have only five hours to finish our errands.

Later in the afternoon, after a busy morning of shopping for groceries, I lug four plastic sacks and a full back-pack, all with groceries for the next week, back to the fish market to catch the bus. If the bus was crowded before we all went shopping, I know how it will look when I get back.

As I approach the door to the bus, a villager sitting in the first seat gets up and grabs the plastic sacks from my hand, the handles getting twisted in an awkward hand-off. I thank him and board a crowded bus, but thankfully not as crowded as last week. Last week there were woven mats, large containers of vegetables and boxes of jars, its contents unknown.

Today there are plastic bags like mine next to plastic bottles filled with kerosene. A man in one of the front seats rests his right foot on a yellow 20 pound bag of rice. Children are on the laps of their mothers, fathers, and even strangers. Children in Samoa can be held by most anyone and feel comfortable and not whine for mom or dad. It all goes back to the openness as displayed on the bus, where a stranger will gladly hold another’s infant, knowing they can expect the favor repaid in the future. It is such an enriching experience to see unfold each week.

Soon the bus is rolling out and it’s 1:00pm; the bus never leaves town late, it just gets there late. After all the hustle and bustle to get things done I take a few deep breaths and exhale.

On the way back to my village the bus makes one stop at a gas station to refill. There is also a small grocery store and several people get off the bus to buy basics such as bread and eggs. Some buy an ice cream cone. I got one last week; it’s tasty. After everyone’s back on, we pull away and head for the village.

Soon most people’s heads are nodding as they sleep. I can’t fall asleep on a fancy chartered bus in the United States, so I can usually count on the ride back as alone time. I enjoy glancing out over the ocean, wondering what the rest of the world is up to. Who else is traveling today? There’s someone getting of the New York Subway at Penn Station and another taking a taxi in Shanghai. There’s someone ridding a camel in the Egyptian Desert and a tourist on a double-decker bus in London. There’s a business man on a Continental flight flying somewhere over Colorado en route to L.A. and another just below him on an Amtrak train, ridding down the rails. Me, I’m ridding a bus on a South Pacific island, heading to a village so small, that many who live in the country don’t even know exists. Life is amazing.

As we turn off the main road, we climb the road back towards the bluffs. Once high over the ocean, our view is fantastic and something for post cards. Coconut trees bend and sway, leaning out over the hills towards the ocean’s edge. Waves crash against the rugged rocks as the bus driver brakes carefully, knowing every pothole and crevice on that familiar road. As we approach my house we spot five cows being chased down the road by a vicious looking dog. It’s a sight that reminds me I’m back in the village again.

I grab my four plastic bags and my back-pack too, as the bus driver comes to a stop. I give him his pay and wish him a good day and carefully step off. I turn back towards the bus and offer a smile to my village.

As I head to my front door, I realize what a cultural experience I’ve just been able to take part in. Samoa doesn’t have Amtrak and fancy chartered buses. They have the uncomfortable wooden buses with the great sound system and friendly gestures for those who ride. If you ever visit Samoa, or any other country, take the local transportation and you will learn more than any tourist book could ever describe. In the meantime, I will be looking forward to next week when I hear the hip-hop coming towards my house.