Reflections on Being a Volunteer

NOTE: The following actually has very little to do with my current level of happiness, which you'll be happy know is very high.
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I’ve never felt completely at ease here. I have never been %100 without reservation about my role here.

For starters, I work at a private school. This is against my most basic principals and belief in public education. This is significant.

Saramen Chuuk Academy exists as a response to a failing public education system. This seems like a fair and justified response. With the public schools failing, the Church does the society a service by providing quality education for the most promising youth. The problem is, all the churches do this, and you end up with 8 schools for a population of a few thousand, and resources being split up and wasted. Why not use all that power, influence and money to get the public system back on its feet? And instead of bringing JVIs to Saramen Chuuk Academy, why not send them to the public school? Put all the volunteers together? This would truly, more purely satisfy the needs of the people, especially of the poor, which ought to matter to a Christian. So, I’m not convinced that SCA’s very existences was, or is the best response to a failing public high school, and I’m not convinced that I couldn’t be of more use at Chuuk High School.

Secondly, I’m working in Chuuk which, while it got screwed over by the U.S., feels like a place that needs to take control of itself and take its destiny back into its own hands. There are Chuukese who could teach, but do not for a various number of reasons. Most predominantly it is because they never came back from their education and experiences abroad. It is not clear to me that we, as volunteers, are what is needed at this point. At least, not as North American, western volunteers.

Chuuk needs self confidence, optimism and hope in its own abilities. I do not want someone to attribute a Saramen Chuuk Academy student’s abilities to the presence of Jesuit Volunteers. I want them to attribute it to the school itself, a Chuukese school, run by Chuukese, for Chuukese. And to attribute it to the abilities and strengths of the student him or herself. In short, I want to be invisible. If we are going to be here, then I want to be as silent and unnoticeable as possible. I want Chuukese to see the inherent potential of Chuukese, despite the discrimination, direct and indirect, that comes from the other states and countries. If we cause a deflating “oh, it’s because they have Jesuit Volunteers” sentiment then I want to leave.

For these two reasons I do not think I will ever be fully at ease here. Not that I don’t love it. I love the people, the students, the school, the teachers. The islands are beautiful, and I’m happy on a day to day basis. Wonderfully happy. It is just that I am not convinced that everything is as it ought to be, that I really want to be supporting, full fledged, that which I am supporting, full fledged, simply by being here.

All that said, I find comfort in knowing that while it may not feel perfect, it is far from feeling wrong. I am happy, and I take comfort in doing what I can for a state that, like so many, has been marginalized and bullied and has had a massive uphill battle towards equality placed before it.

This I Believe

Last Christmas my mom sent out a book, among others, called "This I Believe." It is a collection of the personal beliefs, or personal credo, of many American men and woman, of all ages and types, put together by NPR (as it is based off of a radio program). The book combines essays from the first series in the 1950s, which was mostly comprised of celebrities, and the more recent series which has more no-names.

A great book, Monica and I read them all while she was here (her idea) and decided it would be wortwhile to try writing ones ourselves. So, we got our whole community here in Chuuk to write them, and then one Monday night shared them all. Caitlin, earlier today, said she sent hers to a friend and I realized it would be a great thing to put on this here blog. So, I went to my office, found what I wrote, and here it is:

The Equality of Experience

I believe in equality. Not a political, social, and/or economic equality, but a deep, thorough and utter equality of our human experiences. I believe that no one’s experience can set that person above or below anybody else in the world. I believe it can set them apart, yes, for I believe in diversity – I believe in infinite diversity. I do not believe in a hierarchy in the value of given human experiences, given human lives.

My two best friends that I have had the longest in life thus far are Dan and Alex. I have known Dan since before I can remember, and Alex since 7th grade. Both are more intelligent than I, and yet for different reasons were less “academically” inclined in elementary and then especially high school. They learned, and understood, but weren’t as bothered with all the “shoulds” of being a “high school student.” For my part, I did well enough “academically” and was accepted into a good school that my parents could afford. Dan went to a family school on the East coast and Alex went to none, preferring to explore and learn about life through his own means.

Because of my family and my college I have been able to spend time in many countries on many continents. I’m now teaching on a Pacific island with palm trees, coconuts and the ocean literally all around. I could write for pages about seemingly exotic sights and experiences, even though they are simply normal here. And yet, I know that when I return home the same beautiful thing will happen that happens every time we three have a reunion.

Dan and Alex have traveled less than I, and have had fewer “amazing experiences,” by our culture's ignorant and faulty idea and definition. Nonetheless, when we see each other, I will feel wonderfully humble. When I am with them, I know that they have as much to say, and will always have as much to say about being human as I will. For they, like myself, live it everyday.

It is this equality that I believe in. That the “human experience” is inherently made up of the equal sum of our individual lives, our individual realities, our individual experiences. That we each have as much sharing and listening to do as the next person. This I believe.

Hallowe'en Night

Wow. Cancelled last year at the last minute, this November 1^st, 2007, Saramen Chuuk Academy once again hosted its famed “Hallowe’en Night.” The fame is well deserved.

Saramen Chuuk Academy, if you have yet to see any pictures (check out the link to the right), is a three story, “L” shaped building that has hallways which are open like balconies to an inner courtyard. The students took the desks out of one of the freshman classes (1^st floor), the two sophomore classes and one junior classroom (3^rd floor), and one senior classroom (3^rd floor). These they transformed into a restaurant, a scary movie theatre, a game room (think “carnival”), a haunted house and a dance room, respectively. They also created a snack bar out of the conference room.

At around 6:00 pm people started showing up. Many, many people. Thank God there was power, although we did have an intricate system of wires and lights connected to the church’s generator, just in case. You paid 50¢ at the stairwell for entrance to the 2^nd and 3^rd floors. You then could buy tickets, for 25¢ each. These got you into the different booths. Three for the haunted house, one for each game you played in the game room (complete with prizes), etc. It was run on an extremely low budget, but people were more than willing to pay – and they pay again!

And there were so many people! It reminded me of dances in high school. No uniforms, so everyone was either in crazy costumes or dressed up to look good. Everyone was young, except a few parents (who spent most of their time trying to win prizes in the game room or eating at the restaurant). And everyone was having a good time.

The restaurant was an all you can eat buffet, with breaded chicken, taro, drinks, sashimi (delicious raw fish), and, of course, spam, among other things. The senior girls were in charge of that one, so it was well decorated and had classy tables and chairs (where they got so many identical sets is beyond me).

The movie theatre had two movies going on at once, so you had your choice. They just put some TVs up high and you made yourself comfortable. The game room had dart throwing, ping-pong ball tossing, card games, and a number of other activities. You had a chance of winning a prize with every game you plated. There were always a myriad of people in and out of that room.

The haunted house is the prized room, and went to the senior boys. Marcos, Jessie and I waited in line together, getting nervous together (there were loud screams coming out of there!) for a while before finally getting our chance. They set it up so that we had to crawl our way around the room in darkness, while they slammed onto the walls on either side and above us and used amplifiers and their voices to generally freak us out. Unlike what you see in North America, once we finished, they turned on the lights and smiled and asked how we liked it. We talked, laughed, then went out so the next set could go in. Nothing compared to a Jonathan production, but worth the 75¢.

After eating a delicious meal at the restaurant we trekked up to the dance room, paid our three tickets, walked into the room and BAM – we were hit with the wall of hot air that was being produced by this oven of a room. In a split second we were sweating, before we had even started dancing. There were so many people, and everyone dancing! Someone had a keyboard, and a couple guys were singing, and everyone was grooving. Near the end, they busted out some solid hip hop, a circle formed, and people streamed in and out pop-and-locking and break dancing. Unfortunately, our star student dancer, Franky, didn’t make it in before the music stopped. We wanted to see him dance, so after we kicked everyone out at the end we closed the door so we could do some “cleaning” – and then proceeded to seriously rock out with the loud music and the now spacious and cool room. Sick dancing. Not a bad way to end a night.

And so, by about 9:15 everyone was clearing out. People streaming out to cars (I’ve never seen so many!), lounging around with friends, pushing the envelope for how late they could stay, smiling, laughing, and saying goodnight to their friends and classmates. Rooms got locked up, lights turned off, and SCA was slowly put to sleep. We had heard that it was a good night, but this “Hallowe’en Night” exceeded all expectations. What can be said, but simply “wow?” Maybe the equally informative exclamation of “awesome.”

Congratulations to the students of Saramen Chuuk Academy on an amazing night.

The Angry Panda?

Every now and again I wonder about the name of this blog and how many people know the story behind it. I think to myself, I should post the story, just in case. And then my train continues on to other stations and countrysides (apparently “countrysides,” plural, is not actually a word, but I’m going to just ignore that and use it anyway).

Well, tonight I’m going to tell the story of the “Angry Panda.”

The Angry Panda was born around Christmas time last year (2006), in the middle of an intense and loud badminton game. Greg Watson and I, “G-Dubs” and “L-Train,” were on one side, Chris Dwyer and AJ Cabrera were on the other. This was up at Xavier High School, where Chris and AJ had been playing badminton for months. That didn’t intimidate us, however, because what we lacked in any skill we more than made up for in our trash talking and testosterone levels. We were in the height of one of our energetic self inspirational moments, after having just dropped 3 points in a row, when out of nowhere – and I mean nowhere – Greg says, “Be an angry Panda! ANGRY PANDA!”

I just stopped in my tracks, I simply froze. I looked at him for a moment, and said “An angry panda? An angry Panda would look like this” and then just gave him the blankest, most expressionless face for about 5 deadpan seconds. Whether you find this funny now, as you read it, doesn’t really matter. It was hysterical at the moment, and so thus the “Angry Panda” was born.

The Angry Panda would then pop up from time to time throughout the rest of the Christmas vacation. As he evolved he diversified in his emotions. There was the “Hungry Panda” which was the 5 second Angry Panda with a subtle, longing munch on the 3^rd second. The “Thirsty Panda” which had a licking of the lips at the 3^rd second. The “Sad Panda,” which was the Angry Panda with eyes downcast, except for one glance up on the 3^rd second. And so on.

And it is no coincidence that the Angry Panda was in the height of his popularity when I created this blog. I was gmailing with Greg about site names, and he mentioned the Angry Panda, and so it was. It seemed only natural, only right. And there’s been no looking back!