6/1/08
Graduation was excellent. Everything went smoothly. The only real issue was that the kids were handed empty frames because their diplomas had not yet arrived from Jostens. There really isn’t very much to describe – it was a fairly standard graduation. The valedictorian gave an impressive speech that had everyone in tears, including herself. The staff all had matching lime green aloha shirts and mumus. The “dignitaries” were all invited to the library afterwards to eat a cow out of a cooler - no idea where that came from. There were reporters from Kwaj. The buses ran back and forth all day to carry the 400 or so people out.
After graduation, we thought we were done. We were not. The juniors ask the bus driver to take everyone out to the school for them to throw the seniors and departing staff a farewell party two days later. It was mostly an excuse for the seniors to come out unsupervised to Gugeegue and drink at the school. The average age of the seniors is about 20 though, so it was hard to get too upset.
Then, the day after that, the PTA decided to throw a farewell party at the school for the departing staff. The 6 of us that are leaving sat up on the stage, got to stand in line to get meat out of various coolers first, and then stood in a receiving line while all of the students and parents shook our hands, thanked us and said goodbye, and gave us shell necklaces.
Since I am flying out tomorrow, this is my last post. If you have made it this far, thanks for reading, and I hope I have managed to describe my experience here in a meaningful and entertaining way. See you all stateside.
-Mr. Matt
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
5/25/08
Prom was a week ago. We put on our best (unstained blue jeans, the button down oxford I hadn’t worn yet, and a $2 tie I borrowed from the principal of the catholic high school), took pictures in front of our limousine (the new school bus), and headed to the party (at the bar). When I got on the bus, the driver offered me some of his brandy. There were a couple of students on the bus. I said, “no thanks, I’m going to prom!” Then he said “you’re going to prom without drinking?” He’s a reliable bus driver. Most of the time.
The party started at 6, but no one was there except the faculty. We were very bored until about 730, when the sun went down. At that point, the odd student strayed in off the streets alone (even though they all had dates, or “partners”). The girls came in wearing giant potato sack mumus over their skanky prom dresses. The boys came in with jerseys and shorts on, with shirts and pants in plastic bags that they changed into after they came in. It was an interesting and revealing cultural experiment. Thankfully, we had police at the door, and nobody dared come drunk, making it much more enjoyable for the faculty.
About half an hour after they had all come in, though, I almost wished they had done some moderate drinking before they came – not really, of course, but they were completely silent the whole time and it was really boring. Their DJ played song after song to an empty dance floor, and between songs they sat in complete silence. At one point, I whispered to the students at the table where I was sitting “this is the quietest party I’ve ever been to!” Ken, sitting about 5 tables away, whispered back, “we can hear you!”
At about 9pm, an hour before closing, a few couples braved it to the dance floor (including an enthusiastic boomer and ashley), the tipping point was reached, and it finally turned into a party. I wonder how many babies were conceived afterwards…
This morning I woke up early to go to church for the first time in a year for the graduates’ baccalaureate service. In fact, the last time I went was for my own baccalaureate service, and I’m sad to say that my own was much more interesting. Probably has something to do with this one being in a language I don’t really understand. The sermon was something about a bowl of cherries. I think he said that life wasn’t one, but maybe just that they were tasty. We were ushered to the ri-belle (white people) section at the front of the church, distributed flamboyantly dyed pandanus fans, and I sat there sweating and vigorously waving a fan at my dripping face for the entire 2 hour service. There was some entertainment – the assistant minister really enjoys singing – whenever the choir (which was very talented) sang he would stand up and literally inhale a microphone and belt out the song celine dion style at the top of his lungs. It was worth the headache. Also, there were decorative cans of processed meat, like spam and tuna, decorating the alter, which I still don’t quite understand. And, at the end, our students got up and sang a song to the beat of a synthesizer, except they forgot the words and just started laughing in front of the 400 or so people in and around the church watching them. It was symbolic.
The other night, the town police officer told me that they were “this close” to finding the person who came into my house. It has been a couple of weeks since this happened, so I was surprised to hear that it was still on his mind. He continued, saying “last night, we saw someone outside your house evening time.” I asked him if he was conducting a stakeout in the bushes, and he smiled and said “yes, we are.” The question wasn’t serious, but I’m pretty sure he was. The young men that broke into Tristan’s house a month ago have been evicted from our island by the Marshallese community. These kinds of reactions have been very reassuring – I don’t have much contact with the Marshallese Gugeegue community, so it’s good to know there is support, even if it’s indirect.
Tomorrow is graduation. They have come out here every day for the last week to practice the ceremony. Their parents have come out here every day for the last 4 days to cover the new ply-wood stage in various forms of foliage. Ladies in mumus braid palm fronds while men with machetes climb trees to cut more down. We even have a red carpet, except it’s green – it’s made from the trees outside my classroom. It’s past 11pm and the bus is still here – workers are setting up tents and chairs, ladies are frantically sewing matching yokwe shirts (yokwe = Marshallese aloha) and mumus for the faculty to wear. The Americans are hiding. Even Laura has taken a back-seat approach to graduation. In this country, it’s all about the ceremonial, and tomorrow will be no exception.
Prom was a week ago. We put on our best (unstained blue jeans, the button down oxford I hadn’t worn yet, and a $2 tie I borrowed from the principal of the catholic high school), took pictures in front of our limousine (the new school bus), and headed to the party (at the bar). When I got on the bus, the driver offered me some of his brandy. There were a couple of students on the bus. I said, “no thanks, I’m going to prom!” Then he said “you’re going to prom without drinking?” He’s a reliable bus driver. Most of the time.
The party started at 6, but no one was there except the faculty. We were very bored until about 730, when the sun went down. At that point, the odd student strayed in off the streets alone (even though they all had dates, or “partners”). The girls came in wearing giant potato sack mumus over their skanky prom dresses. The boys came in with jerseys and shorts on, with shirts and pants in plastic bags that they changed into after they came in. It was an interesting and revealing cultural experiment. Thankfully, we had police at the door, and nobody dared come drunk, making it much more enjoyable for the faculty.
About half an hour after they had all come in, though, I almost wished they had done some moderate drinking before they came – not really, of course, but they were completely silent the whole time and it was really boring. Their DJ played song after song to an empty dance floor, and between songs they sat in complete silence. At one point, I whispered to the students at the table where I was sitting “this is the quietest party I’ve ever been to!” Ken, sitting about 5 tables away, whispered back, “we can hear you!”
At about 9pm, an hour before closing, a few couples braved it to the dance floor (including an enthusiastic boomer and ashley), the tipping point was reached, and it finally turned into a party. I wonder how many babies were conceived afterwards…
This morning I woke up early to go to church for the first time in a year for the graduates’ baccalaureate service. In fact, the last time I went was for my own baccalaureate service, and I’m sad to say that my own was much more interesting. Probably has something to do with this one being in a language I don’t really understand. The sermon was something about a bowl of cherries. I think he said that life wasn’t one, but maybe just that they were tasty. We were ushered to the ri-belle (white people) section at the front of the church, distributed flamboyantly dyed pandanus fans, and I sat there sweating and vigorously waving a fan at my dripping face for the entire 2 hour service. There was some entertainment – the assistant minister really enjoys singing – whenever the choir (which was very talented) sang he would stand up and literally inhale a microphone and belt out the song celine dion style at the top of his lungs. It was worth the headache. Also, there were decorative cans of processed meat, like spam and tuna, decorating the alter, which I still don’t quite understand. And, at the end, our students got up and sang a song to the beat of a synthesizer, except they forgot the words and just started laughing in front of the 400 or so people in and around the church watching them. It was symbolic.
The other night, the town police officer told me that they were “this close” to finding the person who came into my house. It has been a couple of weeks since this happened, so I was surprised to hear that it was still on his mind. He continued, saying “last night, we saw someone outside your house evening time.” I asked him if he was conducting a stakeout in the bushes, and he smiled and said “yes, we are.” The question wasn’t serious, but I’m pretty sure he was. The young men that broke into Tristan’s house a month ago have been evicted from our island by the Marshallese community. These kinds of reactions have been very reassuring – I don’t have much contact with the Marshallese Gugeegue community, so it’s good to know there is support, even if it’s indirect.
Tomorrow is graduation. They have come out here every day for the last week to practice the ceremony. Their parents have come out here every day for the last 4 days to cover the new ply-wood stage in various forms of foliage. Ladies in mumus braid palm fronds while men with machetes climb trees to cut more down. We even have a red carpet, except it’s green – it’s made from the trees outside my classroom. It’s past 11pm and the bus is still here – workers are setting up tents and chairs, ladies are frantically sewing matching yokwe shirts (yokwe = Marshallese aloha) and mumus for the faculty to wear. The Americans are hiding. Even Laura has taken a back-seat approach to graduation. In this country, it’s all about the ceremonial, and tomorrow will be no exception.
Friday, May 9, 2008
5/10/08
It’s a rainy day in Gugeegue. We are getting ready for exams next week, some planning for next year and prom the week after, and graduation of the 26th. A wave of graduation-mania has hit the school, and everyone is obsessed with preparing for it. Our principal has people out here every day (even Saturdays) building a covered stage in front of the school for the seniors to sit on. Supposedly, the atoll’s King, the RMI President, and the Colonel from the base, and the Kwajalein senators will all be in attendance, making it the most high profile event in Gugeegue history.
Last night my house was broken into. It was 230am on a Saturday morning, and Staci was still at Ashley’s watching a movie. All the lights were off, but I had left the door unlocked for Staci. I was not sleeping well, and I heard the door open. Since my bedroom door is always open (to keep a breeze coming through) I expected to see Staci head into her room…. But no one came in. So, I sleepily got up in my boxers to go close the door, which I thought may have just not been closed all the way. When I got to the kitchen, there was a man walking into the house. He stopped dead for about half a second and then sprinted out the door into the jungle towards Gugeegue’s town. Tristan and his wife had their house broken into (through the roof, while they were home) by a drunk guy at 7am last week, but my intruder was sober… I made that judgment when I decided not to run after him into the woods barefoot – there was no way I could have caught him… plus, then what? This morning I went over to our one police officer’s house and let him know what happened and that I would never be able to ID anybody (it seems silly, but when you only have 250 people living on an island, it’s pretty easy to figure out who the transgressor is) because he had a t-shirt wrapped around his head and face.
Class is going well. I will really miss a lot of the kids. And others, not so much. Speaking of kids, so far 7 girls have been discovered pregnant this quarter alone (we only have about 260 students left). This is always very depressing, and it makes class worse because a couple of them can be quite obnoxious. Teen hormones + pregnancy hormones = a headache for Mr. Matt.
I went diving last weekend on the base. Saw some Japanese boat wrecks from World War 2. Very cool.
I’m heading out on June 2nd. One day in Majuro to stock up on handicrafts and cover my body in tribal tatoos, then out on the 4th. Then I arrive in Honolulu at 3AM on the 4th (international dateline). Then I leave Honolulu at 8pm on the 4th, take the redeye to LAX, arrive at 5am, and leave at 8pm (arg) for another redeye to Newark. Not going to be a fun 4 days.
Alex, one of the Ebeye volunteers, left two days ago because of a stubborn infection of unknown origins that was causing his lymph nodes to be swollen. Hopefully I’ll leave under better circumstances. Although, right now I’m not doing so well. My throat was sore for two days and now I literally cannot make coherent sounds come out of my mouth. I don’t really feel sick… I just can’t talk. But, it doesn’t matter – I am done teaching new material for the year! Monday and Tuesday are review days, and the rest of the week is exams. And then my short career as a teacher is over.
It’s a rainy day in Gugeegue. We are getting ready for exams next week, some planning for next year and prom the week after, and graduation of the 26th. A wave of graduation-mania has hit the school, and everyone is obsessed with preparing for it. Our principal has people out here every day (even Saturdays) building a covered stage in front of the school for the seniors to sit on. Supposedly, the atoll’s King, the RMI President, and the Colonel from the base, and the Kwajalein senators will all be in attendance, making it the most high profile event in Gugeegue history.
Last night my house was broken into. It was 230am on a Saturday morning, and Staci was still at Ashley’s watching a movie. All the lights were off, but I had left the door unlocked for Staci. I was not sleeping well, and I heard the door open. Since my bedroom door is always open (to keep a breeze coming through) I expected to see Staci head into her room…. But no one came in. So, I sleepily got up in my boxers to go close the door, which I thought may have just not been closed all the way. When I got to the kitchen, there was a man walking into the house. He stopped dead for about half a second and then sprinted out the door into the jungle towards Gugeegue’s town. Tristan and his wife had their house broken into (through the roof, while they were home) by a drunk guy at 7am last week, but my intruder was sober… I made that judgment when I decided not to run after him into the woods barefoot – there was no way I could have caught him… plus, then what? This morning I went over to our one police officer’s house and let him know what happened and that I would never be able to ID anybody (it seems silly, but when you only have 250 people living on an island, it’s pretty easy to figure out who the transgressor is) because he had a t-shirt wrapped around his head and face.
Class is going well. I will really miss a lot of the kids. And others, not so much. Speaking of kids, so far 7 girls have been discovered pregnant this quarter alone (we only have about 260 students left). This is always very depressing, and it makes class worse because a couple of them can be quite obnoxious. Teen hormones + pregnancy hormones = a headache for Mr. Matt.
I went diving last weekend on the base. Saw some Japanese boat wrecks from World War 2. Very cool.
I’m heading out on June 2nd. One day in Majuro to stock up on handicrafts and cover my body in tribal tatoos, then out on the 4th. Then I arrive in Honolulu at 3AM on the 4th (international dateline). Then I leave Honolulu at 8pm on the 4th, take the redeye to LAX, arrive at 5am, and leave at 8pm (arg) for another redeye to Newark. Not going to be a fun 4 days.
Alex, one of the Ebeye volunteers, left two days ago because of a stubborn infection of unknown origins that was causing his lymph nodes to be swollen. Hopefully I’ll leave under better circumstances. Although, right now I’m not doing so well. My throat was sore for two days and now I literally cannot make coherent sounds come out of my mouth. I don’t really feel sick… I just can’t talk. But, it doesn’t matter – I am done teaching new material for the year! Monday and Tuesday are review days, and the rest of the week is exams. And then my short career as a teacher is over.
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