My
Grandpa Rodger is one of my role models and people I love the most. He is
dedicated to family and work although he is retired. He lives within a few
hours of where he and his parents were born. He still manages the land that was
homesteaded by his great grandfather (great great?) and takes his own garden
trimming out there to be burned every year. He can tell you the make and model
of any antique car with details on the ones like those he restored. He has an
eye for details in small motors. He’ll always volunteer to watch the grandkids
swim (even though we are all old enough) just as long as he can get back inside
for the news. He loves Grandma in a way I hope a guy will love me someday.
He’ll voice opinions.
One
of his opinions is that I shouldn’t be here. I should be teaching in America
with my degree and teaching certificate, which accumulated some student loans.
He questioned why I was needing to go half-way around the world to teach when
there are plenty of kids in Washington and I had spent a year building
relationships through subbing at all Spokane schools. Why should I go so far
away from my family? I’ll miss every holiday, birthday, anniversary, graduation
and other family events for two years. Although it’s been almost 11 months
since I left the Pacific Northwest and 17 months since I accepted Peace Corps’
invitation, I am sure he still mutters over the morning paper that I should
come home.
Sometimes
I agree with Grandpa.
While
I try to make facebook and this blog upbeat and happy, there are hard days. At
least 3 times a week I get a marriage proposal. Not because the guy actually
loves me, but as a marriage would make it easier for him to get a visa to
America. After I decline, the guy usually asks if I have any girl friends in
America that I could hook them up with on Facebook. I have drunks calling me
all sorts of things as I decline offers to drink sewa with them. I’m asked if I
have children and then attempts at persuasion state that I “need” one before I
go home with an Ethiopian man so the child is the “most beautiful.” Students
grab my hair to get my attention or constantly yell “Teacher” in a demanding
and demeaning way as I teach. Kids come barging into my room without permission
as I am working and start riffling through my stuff. I get called “forengi” by
people who know my name, “honey” and “sugar” by guys on the road, and
constantly demanded to give them something. This happens at school, market, on
the way to the post office, in the morning, in the afternoon by teachers,
friends, neighbors, and strangers. Harassment happens. I sometimes question if
I should follow Grandpa’s advice and just go home.
So
why don’t I?
I
don’t for my students. The students here who look up to me and expect me to be
there even though so many teachers aren’t. They rely on me to teach them
something that many other students wish they could have. They trust me and
respect me. Also, the students I had in my student teaching classroom; I
encouraged them to start dreaming now. They encouraged me to keep trying to go
teach in Africa when they found out my original plans fell through after
graduation. Then, I stay for the students I will have later, who will look to me
as a leader and role model. They will see that I am dedicated, committed and
not going to fail. I will push them to work hard towards goals because they can
be achieved. I will be able to show them examples of how hard work and
perseverance led me to things I couldn’t imagine and that the same can happen
for them. I don’t leave for my students.
I
don’t for my honor. Grandma and I often forced Grandpa to watch old BBC Horatio
Hornblower films where Hornblower was always dedicated to honor, duty and
loyalty. While I am not enlisted in Her Royal majesty’s fleets, I did enlist
and swear in for this service. Like Horatio and Grandpa, my word is golden. My
yesses are yes. When I say I am going to do something, I do it. I’ve never
backed out of anything even if I didn’t like it, the pain was great, or I had
an reliable excuse not to. I went to watch 5th grade baseball games in the wind
and rain because I told a student I would be there. I stuck with softball in
high school even though I didn’t agree with the coach who devalued me
constantly. I kept going back on the basketball court after every twisted or
dislocated knee injury. I did semesters in college on 6 hours of sleep
consistently to take a full academic and work load. I did summer classes to
make up for study abroad trip and extra classes while student teaching to
graduate on time. I don’t quit so that I can honestly say I never did. I stay because, at the office in Addis,
my signature says I will.
I
don’t for my brothers. Missing Thomas move into my dorm and “traditiate” to be
a Carlson man was rough. Not being there to watch Philip graduate last weekend
was a hard pill to swallow. Then there is everything in-between: 4th of July on
the dock after a long day of dunking each other, pumpkin carving where Philip
usually dominates, new girlfriends, Thanksgiving indulging then sleeping on the
couch together, football games out at the Pine Bowl, basketball games with an
epic half time dance, trips to Dutch Brothers for smoothies and Winco for gummy
worms, Christmas stockings where we still take turns to get to the orange in
the toe, movie nights, Mariner games and meeting up at church. I miss that a
lot. But I love that Philip tells me he is proud of me. That Thomas thinks it’s
great I’m doing what I always said I would. I not only stay because my
signature is on an oath, but because I want my brothers to always look at me as
someone who preserveres, who dreams, who gets things done no matter the
sacrifices. But most importantly as one who follows God’s call wherever that
may lead.
I
don’t for my parents. Not only have I missed out on some great things happening
in my brothers’ lives, but also in my parents’. I could have taught in the same
area as my mom after helping each other set up our classrooms (something she
let me help on every year since I could).
We could have met up to discuss lesson plans and curriculum. I could
have had long nights talking doctoral and theological-ness with Dad. I could
have celebrated his graduation and new call to Hermiston. I could have done
something epic for their 30th wedding anniversary (May 25). I could help them
move to their new house in Hermiston. I’ll continue to miss stuff in their
lives too. But they never wanted me to base my life around them. They opened
every door they could for me since I was born. They gave me a name with a
meaning to remember what I mean to them no matter where I am in the world or
what happens. They gave me a love for flying and traveling abroad (partially
due to being an American citizen born abroad). They constantly encouraged me to
pursue dreams with prayers, patience, and hard work. Friendships, experiences,
memories, and adventures big and small will, not only make great Young Life
talks, but also make me a better person. I stay because I am constantly
encouraged to, prayed over, and supported. I stay so they can come and visit
me, then I can show them the blessings of this place. I stay so someday my daughter may look at me the same way I
look at my parents.
I
don’t because I still believe this is God’s calling for my life. When I did the
Peace Corps application I was also applying to schools in Spokane. I was
opening all sorts of doors of potential jobs. I prayed that God would close all
the doors to lead me to the one He wanted me to do. The doors closed till there
was only one left: Peace Corps Ethiopia. I left with a deep peace that I was
acting for something bigger than myself or what I could really comprehend.
While doubt comes with harassment, that peace hasn’t left. On days it seems hard
to focus on Him, Paul points me in the right direction often pointing out that
God is strong in my own weaknesses. I still pray for God to guide my future and
present, but know that I am in the right place, even if I can’t articulate
adequately how I know that. I stay because Jesus stayed to fulfill God’s plan
for his life through great pains. I stay because Paul and others went through
so much worst than I will. I stay because He called Ruth to leave everything
behind and Ester to stand up to any bully. I stay because this is where God
wants me to be and I can’t leave that.
Grandpa
is a pretty smart guy. He knows crops and cars and family. He has his own set
of proverbs that the family knows and loves. He is right: Family is the most
important thing in one’s life so logically we should be closer to that. I
graduated from a great school of education on cutting edge of the Common Core
State Standards, knowing many of the principals and teachers at schools I
would’ve applied for so why not use that? I do have loans that have to be
repaid so why not get a job that really starts paying them back. He is right. I
should go home. Harassment is not something anyone should have to constantly
have to deal with on various levels every day. I should go home.
But
I, respectfully, can’t for another 16 months. Then I will more than willingly
board a plane (or two or three or four depending on layovers) to get back home
with a clear conscious that I set out on a mission and was tenacious enough to
fulfill it. Until then, I’m thankful for the chocolate in care packages,
encouragements in all forms, prayers, joy of parents coming and peace that I’m
doing what God has called me to do. Sorry, Grandpa, the Huckleberry’s jokes,
tater tot casseroles, “Mysteries at the Museum,” and late night ice-cream are
just going to have to wait just a little bit longer.
(PS: Song
that adequately describes what I feel like: “One Day You Will” by Lady
Antebellum)
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