An Advance Apology in Case I go Crazy

My job is hard. It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting. It makes me cry. A person can only hear some things so many times a day before the words start to knock things loose upstairs. Oh, I’m weak-minded and pea-brained? Oh, you’re failing because of me and not because of the fact that you pout and waste time and refuse to look at me when I’m signing? Oh, slapping me in the face and swearing at me is “teasing”? Oh, I should think it’s funny when you talk about cutting off my head with gardening shears? Oh, I’m stupid because I don’t want World War 3 to happen and I don’t think the world will end in 2012? Oh, you’re in trouble again because I’m mean and not because your actions need to be followed up by discipline? Okay. Whatever you say.

And then there are the times when my job actually breaks my heart. The education system has failed my student so miserably that he actually believes he earned the “passing” grades that he has been given all of his life. If that was true, he wouldn’t be in 10th grade and reading at a K-1 level and computing math problems on a 2nd grade level. If that was true, he’d have a better understanding of social norms and educational expectations. If that was true, he’d be able to express himself and cope with frustration effectively. He actually thinks that if he continues on the path that he’s been on, he’ll be able to go to college like everyone else. He complains about how lonely it is and how bored he is out here. He’s so bored that he wants to be frozen and preserved until the year 2548 when life will be more exciting. He feels alone because he doesn’t have full access to English and can’t hear while simultaneously not having developed his sign language skills enough to be able to identify with being deaf. He has said that since his language isn’t ASL and it isn’t English, his language is war. Subsequently he’s even more isolated because no one wants to only talk about war and the end of the world with him.

Every day that I’m here on the rez, I experience things that baffle me. The problem is—I’m becoming desensitized to a lot of it. So when I found out that one specific teacher let his kids out of class over ten minutes early so that he could go to lunch, the absurdity of that action almost didn’t register. When I find out that another student 5 students just started coming to school, four and half weeks into the year, I shrug and say, “Welcome to the Rez.” When I found out that the propane tanks that are red tagged…the same tanks that are used for heating, hot water, and cooking for our housing and the school….and that they would not be refilled until the leak was fixed…and that nobody would bother to fix it until November at the earliest…I sighed and thought about how many pairs of long underwear I’ll need to invest in. When we talk about how about 50% of our students don’t have electricity or running water and my friends’ eyes bug-out, I say, “You didn’t know that?”
Life on the rez is fascinating. I’ve started pointing with my lips. I notice myself talking more slowly. Even though most of the TFAers in this region are working predominantly with Navajo students, we get a lot more Navajo-isms out here. It only took me three weeks to realize that “Nay” isn’t just a habitual reaction when something sarcastic is said; it actually means “just kidding.” I’ve started saying “Nay” and am picking up random other Navajo words thanks to my volleyball girls.

P.S. My car will be "all rezzed out" by the time I'm done here.

Some of the little things...

Just to quickly catch you up on my arachnaventures... 1) Douglas, our scorpion, escaped from the glue trap after being stuck in it for eight days. We haven't seen him since. 2) I see a "sun spider" about once every two weeks. They haven't harmed me, so I've stopped smashing them relentlessly. 3) We did have an interesting black widow encounter. Imagine yourself washing desert sand off of your hands and feet underneath your water spigot outside... and then consider the level of terror that would shoot through your body when you realize that your hands are inches beneath the black widow that the water is slowly forcing out from inside of the spigot. Yes friends, its abdomen filled over half of the water spigot. And so...when my roommate noticed the red hourglass lowering towards her, she immediately yelled, "RRROOOOOOOOOOOMMMIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!" I heroicly smashed the spider with some pliers. 4) I smashed the biggest spider that I've seen thus far on Thursday night. I didn't bother to identify it, but i think that venom was bubbling out of its mouthparts when i was analyzing it. The next morning, hundreds of tiny ants were tearing it apart and carrying it away bit by bit.

I realize that I haven't mentioned that I took on the role of head volleyball coach at the beginning of the year. In fact, I'm currently in a hotel in Albuquerque trying to convince the girls to get some rest before the tournament championship game tomorrow. I'll probably threaten them with running if I have to ask them to quiet down again. Even though coaching after school every day and spending extra evenings and weekends at games takes a toll on the amount of time that I can plan lessons and organize my thoughts for teaching, these girls offer me a huge amount of sanity to counterbalance all of the chaos.

It's really the little things out here that make it manageable and even enjoyable. Arachnids. The word arachnid. Volleyball. "Family" dinners with the other Teach for America teachers at my school (we each cook one night a week). The luck of having a wonderful roommate (who serenades me with her piano occasionally). Peanut M&Ms. Momentary breakthroughs with my student (even if it collapses upon me five minutes later). Getting my second paycheck. A great dane named Lola. Having health insurance that covered a decent chunk of the care I needed to get over the infection in my tonsils. Dakota Kid Sunflower Seeds (Thanks mom). Teachers of the Deaf and Interpreters who are always willing to help. And the little thing that is most alluring right now...sleep.

Good night.