Almost exactly two years ago I received my invitation to Peace Corps service in Fiji. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and re-reading the invitation to make sure I’d read correctly, Mandy and I immediately proceeded to goggle “Fiji” as I honestly knew nothing about the country except that it was in the middle of the ocean and rich people vacationed there. The health promotion/youth development project sounded like a good opportunity for professional growth, and Fiji seemed like a grand place to spend the next two years integrating into a community and culture different from my own. I knew accepting the invitation would bring challenges…but it was as though I thought I was standing in line to get on the American Eagle when I was actually in line for Raging Bull, and once you’re buckled in there’s no stopping.
This post isn’t to concentrate on the challenges though, because that would take away from the intense joy I feel at this point in my service, and the strange bittersweet feeling that is beginning to emerge as I begin to think about packing anything that hasn’t molded, faded significantly from the sun, or been eaten by ants and head back to a land I once called home, though “home” is also a strange term to use because I’m not really sure where home is anymore…or if it’s even a place. Perhaps it is instead a feeling that can experienced anywhere through a connectedness with the people and experiences at that moment in time.
This week, while spending most of my days rocking out to “sexy chick(yes, they replace b**** with chick on FM96)” and “noqu lewa” on the radio while labeling library books at the school, I was able to also spend time observing. I observed the teachers and the students and the classrooms and the energy and all of the things that I’ve been actively involved in for the last year. Removing myself from the action, I was able to identify some really incredible things. For instance, in the low level classroom there are children’s names in big block letters taped to the desks and a teacher is overheard saying “it’s ok if you don’t do it right, the most important thing is that you try…” This may seem like a normal classroom to you, but in Fiji this is a classroom whose teacher’s entire attitude toward education and her children has changed. Where before they would be chastised for calling out “B” when they should have said “C,” children are being encouraged to process information on their own terms. Another class is outside waving their arms in the air like tree branches in the wind. They are in a science lesson about weather. last year the same lesson was taught while they sat at their desks and copied sentences off the board, not actively involved in their own learning processes. In the pre-voctational classroom, the girls were learning how to draw a map so that next week they can make one of Lautoka & identify services they may need to access as adults. Every girl confidently stood up to explain the map of her own house—nevermind that they were unproportional or unreadable by the untrained eye—every single one explained in great detail—proving that living with Downe Syndrome, retardation, and other disabilities don’t have to prevent a person from being unable to learn and participate in her own development. Another discovery—there were no children aimlessly running around outside of their classrooms, and no teachers wandering away from their students, in every classroom, both were actively involved in the learning process—a beautiful, beautiful sight.
I have been facilitating professional development workshops focused on literacy with the teachers—this week we identified new ways of teaching phonics and dug into a new box of donations from Century Oaks School teachers—thanks mom!. Typically the teachers, just as most in America would do, leave right after the session at 4, as it is an hour over the time they usually get paid. This week they were still there when I finally left at 5, photocopying like crazy and getting really excited about teaching in new ways—non formal education helps the students retain information, but it also makes their jobs more fun!
I breathe in. sigh. swallow the lump that forms in my throat when I think about leaving these people who are not only my co-workers and students, but friends and family, and recognize this is exactly where I am supposed to be at this particular moment in time and I feel home.
I think about all the sweat and tears—literal sweat and literal tears, mind you—and can honestly say that these small changes, the ones that may never be put into numbers on an annual report or recognized by Peace Corps administration, are the reason I filled out an application almost three years ago.
Posts
