Preface
Greetings from Pohnpei! To be honest I don’t know where to start this blog, as the past month of my life has been a whirlwind of changes, challenges, experiences, and emotions. I have sat down several times in attempts to translate my experiences into words so you might have a window into my world, but alas every time I attempt to write I think to myself “How can I translate all I am taking in into words?” I have not found an answer to this question nor do I suppose I ever will, so for now my futile attempts will have to suffice. Here goes nothing.


Two Weeks of Orientation
I departed from my trail dust town known as Tucson, AZ on a jet plane July 19th, but unlike John Denver I knew I would be back June 2010. My first stop on my adventure was Cleveland, OH. "Cleveland, Ohio?" some of you might be asking. Yes, I was bound for the Midwest and JVI Orientation (in JV lingo, Big-O). The 14 days of orientation felt like two months that had fluttered away quicker than a bat of flirtatious eyelashes.

Big-O began like most orientations and trainings with some good old ice breakers. Out of the grab bag of endless of get-to-know-yous, came many familiar games as well as a few new zingers. For my co-ResLife staffers of '06-'07, no, there was not a 2.5-hour game that involved repeating everyone's name and favorite smell; I don't think that epic game can ever be topped. A new game I found amusing was called "What's this I'm your sis! / Yo yo I'm your bro!" This game was simple, you go around a in a circle and try to state something you think is unique to you and if someone has that thing in common with you they will shout "What's this I'm your sis!" or "Yo, yo I'm your bro!" and that's it. Simple, yet I was amused every time I got to shout "What's this I'm your sis!" Yeah, it is always the simple things that I get a kick out of.

After a day of introductions and beginning to become comfortable with one another we got down to business. Our typical day began at 7:30 with morning prayer and concluded with 9pm evening prayer. Sandwiched in between these times of folded hands was a balance of workshops, meals and free time. Boy, were the days packed with things to chew on, but despite the constant mastication there was a beautiful equilibrium which feed all parts of our being. The workshop topics ranged from "Who Am I?" to "Personal Health," and touched upon the vast subject matter between as the days passed. Much beyond learning that one should wash their hands for a full 20 seconds, which is equivalent to two rounds of Happy Birthday, the workshops challenged us to ask the big questions. They began to transform those 3am philosophical college conversations on life, justice, and faith into questions that confront how we live day-to-day. They challenged us to strive for a better understanding through critical analysis of our experiences and to seek the answers through our hands, minds, and hearts.

Now, I can't pass up sharing about Big-O without mentioning the awesome cohort of individuals with whom I shared those two weeks. Hailing from across the nation, these individuals blew me away with their magnetic and dynamic personalities. Weather we were deliberating if rosemary was used in the chicken at dinner, discussing throwing bows during games of midnight football, or debating the meaning of justice, there was always a good time to be had. And while we came together as strangers with a common path ahead, I’d like to think after the two weeks of ridiculous games and thought provoking conversations, we departed as friends. In short, Big-O served as a formative beginning which will continue to unfold as I walk the road ahead.


My life in Pohnpei
This is where it really begins to get tough to describe my experiences, as everyday is an overload to my senses and I cannot seem to keep up with the experiences as they are happening, but let's start with some basics.

Kaselehlie maing ko my name is Josephine Corder . . . ok, maybe not that basic. You are looking at, or more accurately reading about, Pohnpei Catholic School's (PCS) 7th grade teacher. That's right, I went from taking notes, turning in papers, and sometimes staring blankly at my professors to lesson planning, grading papers and sometimes receiving those blank stares. I live in Kolonia Town in an immediate household of three, which is comprised of Megan, a second year JV, Luke, a co-first year JV, and myself. The three of us live in a three-bedroom home located about a ten-minute walk from our perspective workplaces. While I have not yet established a routine or rhythm to my life here in Pohnpei, there are a couple things that occur regularly. Every Sunday, my immediate community has spirituality night. This is a time when Megan, Luke and I come together and take time to nurture our spirits through whatever means is needed at the time. On Tuesday nights, the three of us head over to the local Jesuit Community and join in their spirituality night followed by dinner. On Thursdays, my household has community night in which we address how things are going in the community and do something that brings us closer together: a game, guided conversation, or just general hanging out. Also, in the routine mix is home cook'n by yours truly every Monday night. Other than these staple events, everything else is currently in an ebb and flow of life.

Want a bit more than the basics?

Life as a Teacher
This section really should be titled Life as a Student since I feel I am learning just as much, if not more than my students. As previously stated I am the 7th grade teacher at PSC, this means that I get to hear my name echoed in 23 various voices throughout the day. Many of these echoes come in repetitious sets of the same question, and are followed by an "ooooh." Of course, there is the "Ms. Josephine, can I use the restroom?" which is asked at least once, usually twice by a student during each subject. But before I dive into the comedic daily happenings of teaching, let me begin at the beginning. A couple days after arriving to Pohnpei, teacher work days began. Though neither Luke nor I knew what we would be teaching, we headed down to the school with excitement. While I didn't know what to expect, I did bring some preconceived ideas of what teacher work days would entail such as teachers sitting at their desks creating world class lesson plans, bulletin boards, and generally getting prepared for the school year ahead. Well, teacher work days began a bit differently than the picture I had painted in my mind. We began by with a general sweep around the room accompanied by tossing out the trash left from previous classes. After the simple brush-up we flooded the concrete floor classrooms with water and tide bleach and scrubbed away. Along with scrubbing the floors, we brushed and cleared out the windows from spiders whom had set up numerous neighborhoods and maybe even a city council. While the spiders would scurry away as the yellow broom swept in and destroyed their homes, they were not yet ready to be evicted from the classrooms in which they had become so cozy. The eviction process of these spiders is a daily battle of broom vs. web and a test of both parties endurance, but do not fret I am tough and fierce competitor.

A few days before school began, it was decided that I would be teaching 7th grade. It then took me a couple days to figure out what books went along with the classes I was suppose to be teaching. School began August 18th with two days of orientation, and classes commencing on August 20th. It was not until two days or so after school started that the actual classes I would be teaching was finalized. This may be the opportune time to mention one of the first lessons I learned, or at least was re-emphasized in my life, since coming to Pohnpei: laughter is the best cure for frustration. When situations, people, or the random happenings of life become utterly ridiculous we can either throw our hands up in frustration, or smile and laugh lightening everything up a bit.

I have always held teachers in high regard, but since stepping into the shoes of a teacher my level of respect for the teaching profession has sky rocketed. To say the least, teaching is a tough job and having only received a one day workshop on teaching at Big-O, the phrase ‘on the job training’ has a whole new meaning to me. Despite what some may think, teaching is not just getting up in front of a class and dictating what is the textbook. Teaching is a skillful art of imparting knowledge, fostering character, empowering individuals, exhibiting your genuine care, and mutual learning. Hats off to all you teachers out there, you all are truly inspiring.

So Monday through Friday, I have 23 sets of eager eyes staring up at me ready to learn Math, Reading, Theology, Spelling, Language, and Social Studies (Science is taught by the principal since I am teaching theology). Behind each pair of those 23 sets of eyes is an unique personality and spirit. I have the privilege of not only interacting daily with aspiring teachers, lawyers, stewardesses, soldiers, baseball players, and doctors, but also being a small part of their formation process. I hope that I am serving them well. Thus far my favorite subjects to teach is world history and math, but who knows as time goes on my preferences may shift. Oh, speaking of math, I am starting a math club at my school. That's right, a math club. This social work/theology major has crossed over into the world of numbers and is steadily becoming a math nerd. Please hold off on sending those pocket protectors as I do not have any pockets to protect. Wow, there is so much to share, but so little time and so few words. Overall, I like teaching and even if I have a difficult day, I have always manged to walk away from PCS with a smile on my face.

Taro
We had Friday, September, 12 off from school and so I decided to cash in an offer from our librarian to learn some local cooking. I set off that morning with directions that consisted of something like 'Go straight until you see this first major intersection then make a right. Go past the market and the church, then make another right. You will see a gas station, keep going. Then about two or three minutes after you pass the bridge take a right. Then start asking people where I live and they will tell you where to go.' Interestingly, these seemingly vague directions are possibly the clearest and easiest to follow directions I have ever received. It was a beautiful day for a walk, and as I walked down the last stretch of road, wondering if I had passed her house, I heard my name "Josephine, I am down here." There was our librarian with a big, welcoming smile. She explained that her mother-in-law and her had just put the taro on to boil. Some of you might be wondering, "what on earth is Taro?" Taro is kind of a cross between a potato and a yam. Like most plants, there are various types of taro and various methods of cooking it. I was learning how to make kemelis, which consists of taro, sugar, and coconut shavings.

We were making the kemelis for the librarian's church singing group that was meeting that night. Most of the morning consisted of waiting for the huge pot of taro to boil and good conversion. I enjoyed hearing about her family, cultural traditions, thoughts on the growing western influence in Pohnpei, and everything in between. As we sat near the water, the ocean breeze kept us cool and provided us relief from the fire's smoke. Possibly around noon, the precise time was unknown to me since I was not wearing a watch, the taro was ready to be pounded. Putting the warm taro on a huge flat rock we began to pound. When I use the word pound, I mean exactly that pound, not hit or tap or mash, pound. You throw some arm into it and pound the solid root, which has been slightly softened through boiling, until it is smooth and about the consistency of thick oatmeal. As the librarian and I pounded the taro, her mother-in-law began grinding the coconut we would eventually mix into the taro. While we were working, various members of her family and neighbors stopped by the traditional cooking house. The cooking house looks similar to a ramada and has a low sitting grill, under which you build the fire. Once we began working and people started stopping by, most of the dialog was in Pohnpein. While I could not understand what the conversations were about, there was a comfort in hearing warm and friendly conversation. Every once and a while I would hear something in the conversation that I would recognize, such as the mention of the neighborhood I lived in. At one point, I heard Arizona mentioned which grabbed my attention and I looked up. The librarian then explained to me that everyone was asking where I was from because I pounded taro as if I had been doing it for years. A bit later, her sister had stopped by and after watching for a bit she said in English "You are better than Librarian's Name." I humbly accepted the compliment, and gave credit to my teacher. After a while the mother-in-law began pounding taro with me, the librarian explaining that she was stronger and faster than she was, and since I was better at pounding taro then she, her mother-in-law and I would pound the taro. We pounded the afternoon away, and eventually that evening we mixed in the sugar, added the coconut, and rolled the kemelis into balls. With the final kemelis ball rolled, our work was done for the day. Since it was getting dark, and I lived a ways away the librarian and her husband drove me home, but not empty handed. The librarian had cooked up some fish her husband had caught the night before and handed me a bag with two small fish and two large balls of D-E-L-I-C-O-U-S kemelis. The librarian explained to me that in Pohnpeian culture it was rude for someone to visit and to leave empty handed. As I hopped out of the car I thanked the librarian for having me over and for the bag of goodies. That night my community enjoyed fish and rice with a yummy side of kemelis for dinner.