Tuesday, February 1
My student doesn't come to school because the roads are icy and the driver doesn't want to brave the 1-hour drive each way. Work day. Score! It was a two-hour delay day due to the roads anyway. (Snow plows aren't very effective at removing snow here...the roads are still snowpacked. And they still haven't discovered the beauty of sanding/salting the roads.)
Wednesday, February 2
Snow day. No school. Score! I immediately had the epiphany that I'm even more grateful for snow days as an adult teacher than when I was a kid, on the other end. So, so grateful. It's interesting how oblivious I was to how much my teachers appreciated days off. Also grateful for Lindsay Berman's homemade pizza.
Thursday, February 3
No school for the second day in a row. Score! It's technically a "Cold Day." This is a new concept for me. It only got to about -15 degrees over night. At home in North Dakota, it's -25 degrees and they would never consider cancelling school because of it. I guess the buses up there are heated...and none of the farm kids in ND have to walk a mile or more to get to the bus stop. And the kids have warm coats. And warm hats. And warm gloves...
In other news, I am starting to love my job. I've also been completely moved into my new teacherage house with my new roommate, Hannah Kozick, for about two weeks now. It's so cozy. And Lola loves the company of Hannah's rez dog, Callway.
I'm settling in. I enjoy getting up and walking to school in the morning. My student asks questions in class. He brings in lists of words and asks what they mean and asks for the corresponding signs. He's excited when I read (sign) to him. He doesn't act out at the mention of someone coming to see him or to observe me. He is starting to say (sign) please and thank-you. He's excited about academic challenge rather than shut-down by it. He's learning.
The staff that I work with at Thoreau High School are so much more supportive and fun to be with. They share passions, outdoor enthusiasm, and belief in our students. They see me as an asset to the team rather than as a nuisance or as the clueless new kid on the block.
I'm no longer drowning.
I'm no longer desperately trying to survive.
I'm beginning to thrive beyond the daily circumstances.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
New Year New Beginnings
I went home to North Dakota for Christmas vacation, thoroughly expecting the two-week break to prove insufficient to rejuvenate me. Then I had to leave two days earlier than planned to attempt to evade the impending snowstorm that the weathermen had been predicting to hit most of the Mid-West. Feeling a little robbed of my vacation time, I was pleasantly surprised when I got to stay with my cousin, Jared, at Vail and spend the day on the mountain with him. Even though the drive out of the mountains took three times as long as normal due to bad road conditions, I was able to enjoy time with friends in Colorado Springs that night and even get back to Pueblo Pintado early enough on New Year's Eve to start moving my belongings to my new residence. That's right friends, I no longer live in Pueblo Pintado. Instead, I live in a small town named Thoreau (pronounced thuh-rue). It has a Post Office and cell phone reception! I'm moving up in the world.
Rewinding a bit, at the end of the semester a large group of people gathered around to discuss my student's progress, struggles, and some potential options for better services. Since we've been struggling from the beginning of the year to make Tse'Yi'Gai into a location in which multiple people can encourage him, teach him, socialize with him, and hold him accountable, it was acknowledged that the school probably has more triggers for frustration than effective supports. So, either he could be bussed to Thoreau every day (67 miles each way), because there is another deaf student at that school, two interpreters, and another Teacher of the Deaf. Additionally, the school is bigger, has more class options, and has a bigger, more comprehensive Special Education program. Option two? Go to the New Mexico School for the Deaf (NMSD). But since my student has insane amounts of anxiety even at the mention of going to Santa Fe, the family decided that Thoreau would be a better option. And it is a much better option than Tse'Yi'Gai even with the long transport time. I've loved moving in and getting to know the staff at this school. They've been very open, hospitable, and supportive so far. It has me feeling very optimistic about this new beginning. So here I am. Waiting.
And waiting.
And trying to get some work done while...waiting some more.
Why so much waiting? He hasn't shown up for school yet. First problem: transportation. A long series of hiccups occurred in this process and they were finally sorted out (temporarily) so that he could come to school today. But he didn't. Apparently the temporary driver wasn't thrilled about his change in roles and the mother needed to "make some arrangements" today. Therefore, it just wasn't a priority to get him to school. I've been in touch with the mother regularly throughout this process and got a lovely email from her tonight. This email informed me that my student would not be in school until next week Wednesday. There is only one day left this week (Thursday), which apparently isn't worth making, then Friday and Monday there is no school, and Tuesday, he'll be going in to the doctor to do a hearing screening (for the first time in 16 years) for the possibility of using hearing aids (also for the first time in 16 years).
There is a good possibility that most of you reading this blog are thinking, "Great! That is very helpful! Better late than never!" So, I'm going to give this decision a little bit more context and perspective. My student is 16 years old. He is profoundly deaf and mute. He has has had excruciatingly limited communication for the first 13 years of his life, and has since started to learn correct ASL and develop deeper levels of communication (mostly with white, hearing females from outside of his Navajo community). He has gone through multiple Navajo healing ceremonies and visited the Medicine Man on various occasions in desperate, misguided attempts to have his hearing restored. He is intelligent and picks up on interesting social cues. Therefore, he knows that his People have not made a valiant attempt to try to communicate with him. He knows that his deafness is considered to be a very bad thing. Something to be fixed. He knows that he is an "inconvenience to accommodate". He also knows that hearing aids would be another attempt to fix him. He desperately wants to be fixed. He wants to have access. He wants to be included. He wants to be valued.
Now, if he is accepted for implementing either Hearing aids or Cochlear Implant, there is a lot more to consider. If you look at the statistics and information involved with Hearing Aids and Cochlear Implants, you will find the following information. Hearing aids and Cochlear Implants are most successful in individuals who have substantial residual hearing. They are most successful in individuals who have at least some speech capacities developed. They are most successful when implemented at a young age. They are most successful when the individual has easy access to high quality services with great frequency. My student has none of things going for him. Even in the success stories, they require extensive speech therapy in order to get to that level of successfulness. And even then, they do not make a deaf person into a fully functioning hearing person. And so, when they are approached as a way to fix deafness, like the healing ceremonies, they are typically followed with substantial disappointment.
And so, it breaks my heart. To think of him having to deal with another huge disappointment that he can't be fixed. Another realization that he's an inconvenience to tote around to all of the speech therapy appointments. Another huge blow to his self-esteem and self-worth. When we could be accepting him for who he is. When his parents could morph this effort and money put into the hearing screeing into an attempt to learn ASL on a level in which they could effectively communicate with their son. When we could be interacting with him in ways that tell him he's not an inconvenience, that he's not a problem that needs to be fixed, and that he is valuable.
Maybe you disagree. Maybe you think I'm being pessimistic. Maybe that was depressing to read. So here is a fun video of Lola playing with Chaco (Pete and Kimber's pup) to end this blog entry on a lighter note.
Rewinding a bit, at the end of the semester a large group of people gathered around to discuss my student's progress, struggles, and some potential options for better services. Since we've been struggling from the beginning of the year to make Tse'Yi'Gai into a location in which multiple people can encourage him, teach him, socialize with him, and hold him accountable, it was acknowledged that the school probably has more triggers for frustration than effective supports. So, either he could be bussed to Thoreau every day (67 miles each way), because there is another deaf student at that school, two interpreters, and another Teacher of the Deaf. Additionally, the school is bigger, has more class options, and has a bigger, more comprehensive Special Education program. Option two? Go to the New Mexico School for the Deaf (NMSD). But since my student has insane amounts of anxiety even at the mention of going to Santa Fe, the family decided that Thoreau would be a better option. And it is a much better option than Tse'Yi'Gai even with the long transport time. I've loved moving in and getting to know the staff at this school. They've been very open, hospitable, and supportive so far. It has me feeling very optimistic about this new beginning. So here I am. Waiting.
And waiting.
And trying to get some work done while...waiting some more.
Why so much waiting? He hasn't shown up for school yet. First problem: transportation. A long series of hiccups occurred in this process and they were finally sorted out (temporarily) so that he could come to school today. But he didn't. Apparently the temporary driver wasn't thrilled about his change in roles and the mother needed to "make some arrangements" today. Therefore, it just wasn't a priority to get him to school. I've been in touch with the mother regularly throughout this process and got a lovely email from her tonight. This email informed me that my student would not be in school until next week Wednesday. There is only one day left this week (Thursday), which apparently isn't worth making, then Friday and Monday there is no school, and Tuesday, he'll be going in to the doctor to do a hearing screening (for the first time in 16 years) for the possibility of using hearing aids (also for the first time in 16 years).
There is a good possibility that most of you reading this blog are thinking, "Great! That is very helpful! Better late than never!" So, I'm going to give this decision a little bit more context and perspective. My student is 16 years old. He is profoundly deaf and mute. He has has had excruciatingly limited communication for the first 13 years of his life, and has since started to learn correct ASL and develop deeper levels of communication (mostly with white, hearing females from outside of his Navajo community). He has gone through multiple Navajo healing ceremonies and visited the Medicine Man on various occasions in desperate, misguided attempts to have his hearing restored. He is intelligent and picks up on interesting social cues. Therefore, he knows that his People have not made a valiant attempt to try to communicate with him. He knows that his deafness is considered to be a very bad thing. Something to be fixed. He knows that he is an "inconvenience to accommodate". He also knows that hearing aids would be another attempt to fix him. He desperately wants to be fixed. He wants to have access. He wants to be included. He wants to be valued.
Now, if he is accepted for implementing either Hearing aids or Cochlear Implant, there is a lot more to consider. If you look at the statistics and information involved with Hearing Aids and Cochlear Implants, you will find the following information. Hearing aids and Cochlear Implants are most successful in individuals who have substantial residual hearing. They are most successful in individuals who have at least some speech capacities developed. They are most successful when implemented at a young age. They are most successful when the individual has easy access to high quality services with great frequency. My student has none of things going for him. Even in the success stories, they require extensive speech therapy in order to get to that level of successfulness. And even then, they do not make a deaf person into a fully functioning hearing person. And so, when they are approached as a way to fix deafness, like the healing ceremonies, they are typically followed with substantial disappointment.
And so, it breaks my heart. To think of him having to deal with another huge disappointment that he can't be fixed. Another realization that he's an inconvenience to tote around to all of the speech therapy appointments. Another huge blow to his self-esteem and self-worth. When we could be accepting him for who he is. When his parents could morph this effort and money put into the hearing screeing into an attempt to learn ASL on a level in which they could effectively communicate with their son. When we could be interacting with him in ways that tell him he's not an inconvenience, that he's not a problem that needs to be fixed, and that he is valuable.
Maybe you disagree. Maybe you think I'm being pessimistic. Maybe that was depressing to read. So here is a fun video of Lola playing with Chaco (Pete and Kimber's pup) to end this blog entry on a lighter note.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
So much is So wrong
Systematic oppression. Institutionalized trauma. Cyclical poverty. These are concepts that swirl through my thoughts regularly. As I watch how the veteran teachers treat students that they have arbitrarily labeled as “hopeless,” “dumb,” “apathetic,” “lazy,” or “disabled.” As I listen to stories of drug abuse, broken homes, despair, hunger, and gang violence. As I see my school get resources half as often as every other school in our district (example: social workers go to all other schools once a week, but come to mine once every two weeks because we’re so far away). As I think of Eduardo Galeano’s quote: “How many times have I been a dictator? How many times an inquisitor, a censor, a jailer? How many times have I forbidden those I most loved freedom and speech? How many people have I felt I owned? How many people have I sentenced because they committed the crime of not being me? Is it not more repugnant to hold people as private property than things? How many people have I used, I who thought myself so marginal to the consumer society? Have I not desired or celebrated, secretly, the defeat of others, I who aloud claimed no interest in success? Who fails to reproduce, within himself, the world that makes him? Who is free from confusing his brother with a rival and the woman he loves with his own shadow?”. As I battle the guilt associated with even contemplating quitting such and underserved population, school, and student. As I question my efficacy of service. As my principal tells me that our school is out of supply funds for the rest of the year. As I have to request that my student not be suspended for kicking me so that we don’t waste the time that he could be using to learn how to control his emotions and develop his academic skills. Making desperate attempts to try to break the perpetuation of dysfunction. I can't help but be dumbstruck and overwhelmed. I can't help but question whether my student's family will follow through on transferring him to a school with better resources. I can't help but wonder if it will actually be an improvement.
The Nobodies written by Eduardo Galeano
Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream
of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will
suddenly rain down on them- will rain down in buckets.
But good luck doesn't even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter
how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is
tickling, or if they begin the new day with their right foot, or
start the new year with a change of brooms.
The nobodies: nobody's children, owners of nothing.
The nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied,
running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way.
Who don't speak languages, but dialects.
Who don't have religions, but superstitions.
Who don't create art, but handicrafts.
Who don't have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them
The Nobodies written by Eduardo Galeano
Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream
of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will
suddenly rain down on them- will rain down in buckets.
But good luck doesn't even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter
how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is
tickling, or if they begin the new day with their right foot, or
start the new year with a change of brooms.
The nobodies: nobody's children, owners of nothing.
The nobodies: the no ones, the nobodied,
running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way.
Who don't speak languages, but dialects.
Who don't have religions, but superstitions.
Who don't create art, but handicrafts.
Who don't have culture, but folklore.
Who are not human beings, but human resources.
Who do not have names, but numbers.
Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the police blotter of the local paper.
The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them
Monday, November 29, 2010
Rural Roads and Rural Programs
I find it to be odd how so many people drive the speed limit here. Following stereotypes, people in junkers and the elderly drive below the speed limit. But pretty much everyone else follows the speed limit signs. It’s bizarre for three reasons: 1) there typically is hardly any traffic, 2) there is rarely a cop, 3) the cops don’t stop you for speeding (speaking from personal experience). Since I live so far from anywhere, I can’t suppress the temptation to set my cruise control 20 mph higher than the speed limit sign (that I can’t read anyway because it has been tagged by some local punks). Even when I am driving ridiculously over the speed limit, cops have only flashed their lights on to warn me, and then continued on their merry way. And so it continues. My cruise control even helps me out sometimes by occassionally forgetting to cap my speed, and instead continues to increase until I realize I'm going over 100 mph and still accelerating! Then I correct it.
There is one recent advancement in my job situation for which I’m extremely grateful. The Deaf AmeriCorps members have started to provide services. This means that once a week, a recent college graduate, who happens to be Deaf, will be volunteering at my school to work with me, my student, and probably the staff and the student’s family. What an ingenious program! Communities like this one that keep their deaf children in the community typically struggle with effectively interacting with the deaf children, and have no concept of how successful a Deaf individual can be. So, the New Mexico School for the Deaf (NMSD) proposed a program to AmeriCorps, in which they place successful Deaf adults in our rural communities to provide services and be a role model and example for how Deaf does not equal disabled. It has been a huge blessing for my work environment and my psyche to interact with these amazing volunteers.
There is one recent advancement in my job situation for which I’m extremely grateful. The Deaf AmeriCorps members have started to provide services. This means that once a week, a recent college graduate, who happens to be Deaf, will be volunteering at my school to work with me, my student, and probably the staff and the student’s family. What an ingenious program! Communities like this one that keep their deaf children in the community typically struggle with effectively interacting with the deaf children, and have no concept of how successful a Deaf individual can be. So, the New Mexico School for the Deaf (NMSD) proposed a program to AmeriCorps, in which they place successful Deaf adults in our rural communities to provide services and be a role model and example for how Deaf does not equal disabled. It has been a huge blessing for my work environment and my psyche to interact with these amazing volunteers.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Yay-Bih-WHAT?!
Yeibichai. If you google it, you won’t find much information. You won’t find a picture of one (extremely taboo). You might find a drawing or painting, but they’re probably inaccurate (because that’s also highly discouraged). You probably can’t pronounce it properly. Yeibichai: the lead Diné (Navajo) ceremonial dancer. Yeibichai’s are primarily responsible for the 9-day healing ceremonies that take place in the colder months, but they also have a couple of other roles in our community. As far as I can understand, the Yeibichai also leads the ceremony for the changing of seasons from fall into winter (possibly other seasonal changes also, but I haven’t been here that long).
From what I’ve been told, part of the ceremonial responsibility includes the punishment of misbehaving individuals in the community in order to bring them into balance and harmony. How does this unfold, you ask? Whipping. I rolled my eyes at it, too, assuming that even if it happens, it’s rare and discreet. Then two of the students approached my roommate in a huff saying, “It’s your fault I got whipped!” Baffled and assuming that it was going to progress into a sarcastic joke followed by “Nay”, my roomie inquired nonchalantly. They proceeded to explain that because she wrote them up, they were in lunch detention; and because they were in lunch detention, they were there when the Yeibichai came to whip the problematic students.
White mask. Animal pelts. Eagle feathers. I’d be upset, too. If you drive to the Chaco Wash, our Laundromat, you’ll see a sign that points and says Yeibichai. I don’t go that way.
From what I’ve been told, part of the ceremonial responsibility includes the punishment of misbehaving individuals in the community in order to bring them into balance and harmony. How does this unfold, you ask? Whipping. I rolled my eyes at it, too, assuming that even if it happens, it’s rare and discreet. Then two of the students approached my roommate in a huff saying, “It’s your fault I got whipped!” Baffled and assuming that it was going to progress into a sarcastic joke followed by “Nay”, my roomie inquired nonchalantly. They proceeded to explain that because she wrote them up, they were in lunch detention; and because they were in lunch detention, they were there when the Yeibichai came to whip the problematic students.
White mask. Animal pelts. Eagle feathers. I’d be upset, too. If you drive to the Chaco Wash, our Laundromat, you’ll see a sign that points and says Yeibichai. I don’t go that way.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
What's it like to live in the Middle of Everywhere?
Let me quantify just how remote I am for you:
People in the closest towns don’t recognize the name of Pueblo Pintado and ask, “Where’s that at?”
This area of the country is best known for how dark it gets…and subsequently has one of the best observatories in the nation. No light pollution does wonders. However, night driving is can be annoying when headlights seem to just absorb into the blackness rather than illuminating it.
A day of rain requires me to cancel volleyball practice so that people don’t have to deal with the dirt-turned-mud roads.
A couple hours of rain requires low gear, four-wheel drive, and driving at 1-2 mph in order to not slide off the roads.
When I take a student home at night, I know I wouldn’t be able to find their house in the daylight because a)it’s so barren b)there are no signs or landmarks and c)it’s so dark that I couldn’t see landmarks if there happened to be some.
The food stands that are set up on the side of the road double as drive-thrus...for horseback.
I spend my free time catching black widows and terrifyingly large wolf spiders…and then mail them (live) to Rachael Niemi for her science classes.
The kids charge their Ipods in outlets during class…because they don’t have electricity at home.
An exciting excursion to take during the school week? The Chaco Wash Landromat. Not because it’s so exciting, but because I get to leave the High School compound and get clean clothes.Exciting excursion option number 2? The gas station. No. I do not have a grocery store here. Yes, a box of cereal does cost $7 at the gas station.
Sometimes I see little kids, barefoot, playing games around their hogans and houses. And it reminds me of when I went to Mexico and Belize.
People in the closest towns don’t recognize the name of Pueblo Pintado and ask, “Where’s that at?”
This area of the country is best known for how dark it gets…and subsequently has one of the best observatories in the nation. No light pollution does wonders. However, night driving is can be annoying when headlights seem to just absorb into the blackness rather than illuminating it.
A day of rain requires me to cancel volleyball practice so that people don’t have to deal with the dirt-turned-mud roads.
A couple hours of rain requires low gear, four-wheel drive, and driving at 1-2 mph in order to not slide off the roads.
When I take a student home at night, I know I wouldn’t be able to find their house in the daylight because a)it’s so barren b)there are no signs or landmarks and c)it’s so dark that I couldn’t see landmarks if there happened to be some.
The food stands that are set up on the side of the road double as drive-thrus...for horseback.
I spend my free time catching black widows and terrifyingly large wolf spiders…and then mail them (live) to Rachael Niemi for her science classes.
The kids charge their Ipods in outlets during class…because they don’t have electricity at home.
An exciting excursion to take during the school week? The Chaco Wash Landromat. Not because it’s so exciting, but because I get to leave the High School compound and get clean clothes.Exciting excursion option number 2? The gas station. No. I do not have a grocery store here. Yes, a box of cereal does cost $7 at the gas station.
Sometimes I see little kids, barefoot, playing games around their hogans and houses. And it reminds me of when I went to Mexico and Belize.
Don't worry, I leave town everyweekend to go to...town. Seeing friends, going to events, and buying groceries helps maintain my sanity. Here are a few things from the Albuquerque Hot Air Balloon Festival.
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