Full Circle
What did I get myself into? I thought as I stepped off the tired airplane, a leftover from WWII. Dilapitated shacks, broken down skidoos, and trash peppered roads welcomed me to this native community that I would call home for the next year. My home based university life couldn’t prepare me for what I was about to live. This was my first experience on my own-independent, in a somewhat world of my own.
Sitting in the office at the university was nerve racking. There were 4 native men and 1 non native man sitting at a long table with me directly across. Having all those eyes on me made me extremely nervous. I don’t really want this job. I don’t want to move away. Then the recruiter told me I could teach grade two which thrilled me. My favorite age! Hope was renewed. New plan ahead.
My stomach turned and regrets and panic filled my being. Was I really here? Was it home sick or sick at the sight of their home. It was a good thing this was a fly in- only reservation. I probably would have turned back but there wasn’t another flight out until tomorrow. Driving through the tattered and run down community in the metal bed of that old rusted pick-up truck, I could see some life- the innocent smiling faces of the children watching, waving as though we were movie stars. Their clothes heavy and well worn draped longer than they were. Hair flowing over their face made it difficult to distinguish the boys from the girls.
The green semi detached house would be home for that school year. It was a modest, three bedroom furnished home complete with laundry in the basement. Not bad! I could be OK here. The walls were somewhat scratched up and the patterned sofa set from the 70’s wasn’t so appealing. I can’t look back now… I have to do this. It’s the plan.
I toured the school which sat only 50 feet from my home. It was rudimentary and old but it was all they had. The white siding on the outside of the two story building was peeling and the windows looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. The inside was not much better. My classroom was down in the darkened basement barely a window to speak of. Old carpet lined the floor and a few books sat in a box tucked under a table. Dear God, where am I? This was not what I know a classroom to be. This is not what I experienced as a teacher back in my student teaching schools.
It was a humbling experience the day I met my students. Twelve naive, yet excited children slowly entered my classroom. They barely spoke English and when they did many words were unrecognizable. Ready to learn and share this world together, we began our relationship. We were in this together. It would be the first day of a very satisfying, productive year.
Much learning was achieved during those months. Mostly by me.
As I relive that experience leaving my family, friends and my home I can’t help but feel the same uncertainty and anticipation as my oldest son is about to embark on his first experience away from home. He’s leaving for Australia in two weeks. A journey that leads him in an unfamiliar world.
