A post about death

I teach 4^th grade science right after lunch, and these kids love to help me carry all my stuff to their classroom. “All my stuff” is usually just my backpack, which they will practically tear off me if given the permission and wear proudly into the classroom like a fabric Metal of Honor. As soon as I emerge from our apartment I am greeted by two or three of my students, ready to get me into the classroom (if only my other classes were so excited to have class/learn! High schoolers…). Cecelia takes my water bottle, Rhynner will grab onto my arm saying, “I’m an arm-hugger!” and Cody will flank my other side, his arm draped around me as he just about corrals me into their classroom.

These kids are some of my favorites. They are interested in what I have to teach them, and are quick to settle down when I need some more order in the classroom. While not the perfect class, these nine fourth graders are pretty close.

This fateful day was like any other. I was escorted to their classroom where I turned to the left and headed to the high school building, followed by a string of students who had yelled “ME!” to the call of “Who wants to come help me?” We paraded up the stairs and then through the 9^th grade class into the 10^th grade classroom, where my laptop and speakers remained from the Biology class I taught before lunch. I handed my backpack to one student, a notebook to another, and speakers to the next, fully intending to finish watching Tarzan.

Then, one of them grabbed my laptop and before I could tell her to put it into the case and wait for me, she had disappeared out of the room. I quickly grabbed the case and headed out with two of my other students, slightly worried.

Crash!

I instantly knew that my student had just taken this opportunity to unintentionally experiment with whether gravity still worked or not. Turns out, it did. We got down to their classroom and I apprehensively opened my laptop to be greeted by an unhappy image of white, black, and small sections of patterns of various purple hues. A bad case of an internally cracked screen.

I took my guilt-stricken student outside, told her that she needed to be more careful with other people’s stuff, and then gave her a hug. The poor girl, she felt down-right awful! I grabbed some paper and some crayons, passed them out and told my VERY quiet class to just “Draw Thanksgiving pictures to make me happy.” Then, honestly, I just sat behind the teacher’s desk and stared at the wall.

It was all very terrible.

But it gets better! As the class period drew to a close I received cards covered with “I love you,” “Happy Thanksgiving!” and "Sorry 'so-and-so' broke your computer." There were green trees, hearts, and hand turkeys. Tahina wrote me the following note, and I giggled over trying to decipher it: “Your so good wet us I am sorry and I love your class in sciencn and I no now.” That girl.

And the laptop is fine, none of the memory was lost, and I’m able to use a monitor to complete my grades and write this post. I still have all my pictures, stories, and movies!!

So, all’s well that ends well.

Not so for all members of this next tale.

You probably have heard many stories about the vile cockroaches that a student missionary is sure to meet during their year of service. And at Chuuk we have seen our share of these terrible fends. I’ve seen enough of them to last me the rest of my life: their brown exoskeletons that refuse to be squished, their tiny heads with disgusting little mandibles that move back and forth and can make you squirm just by that movement, and the way they scuttle under the refrigerator just to watch you and giggle to themselves. I don’t like these creatures.

When the power goes off in the evenings, I don’t like venturing into the kitchen because I know what I’ll find. A rat running for cover under our sink, and at least one inch-and-a-half cockroach running around the room, across the table, and on the walls. Opening the cupboard that one night a while ago was a huge mistake. I was greeted with about ten little cockroaches, screaming “Run away!!” into the humid night air.

Some SM's like to play cockroach-hockey, using brooms to slap the things against the wall and then preferably out of the house, some catch them in cups and throw them out the door, and others will throw textbooks onto them in an attempt to stun them for easy removal. But I can’t run the risk of having the cockroach I have just risked life and limb to catch returning into our apartment, so I try to get rid of them using another method.

We have freezers for reasons.

And one of those reasons is for killing cockroaches. I’m pretty sure if you were to read the owner’s manual there would be a whole section concerning the proper etiquette for freezing cockroaches. Just sayin’.

And on the plus side, there’s no guts! Just run around trying to put the plastic container over them without accidently separating the head partially from the body (which results in awkward twitching... and what do you mean it sounds like I’m speaking from experience?!), slide a magazine gingerly between the floor and the roach, and then just stick them in the freezer! They’ll be ready to be taken out in a couple hours and slid into the trash without a fuss.

Anyways, now you know.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, we have an all-day party on Wednesday, get Thursday and Friday off, and I couldn’t be more excited! Thanks for your love, support, and prayers, and eat a piece of pie for me.