Bunny and Daniel

Dear Judith,

Smoke slowly curls upward, rising from the purple cone incense, both enticing my senses and relaxing them. It's another Friday evening in Saipan, my time for reflection and quiet. Fernando Ortega softly plays from my speakers, reminding me of my home in the States. It's been a trying week, made more stressful by my flu-like symptoms, one of the joys of working with children.



Monday was Commonwealth Cultural Day, so the elementary campus had no school, but preschool functions as both school and childcare, so I was at work like normal, though I was feeling awfully sick. Monday seemed like it took forever, and I was exhausted by the time it was over. As soon as I got home, I crawled into bed and stayed there, though it was only 5:30.

The sheer beauty of innocence

Bunny has been very disturbed lately, crying over nothing, refusing to eat snack, and refusing to be comforted. Though I originally thought that she hated me, she's started to like me, and everytime she cried, my heart broke a little more. I try not to let them know it, but each of those kids have me wrapped around their little fingers. Tuesday afternoon, Bunny would only stop crying if I was holding her. Wednesday afternoon, she and her brother, Daniel, were the last kids at the preschool. Daniel kept asking why they were the only ones left and where their mom was. I wanted to cry more and more with each time he asked. By 5:30 (the kids are supposed to get picked up at 5), Amy said that I could go home and leave them with Ms. Kathleen. I grabbed my bag, kissed them both, told them how much I loved them, and started to walk towards the door, when behind me, a small yet strong voice said, "No!" I turned around to see Bunny, this girl who seemed to hate me, refusing to let me leave. I told her that Oma was coming, but this did nothing to appease her. She began to cry, but I had no choice. I walked out the door, her cries echoing out the window, and falling on my broken heart. I later found out that their mother sent a taxi to pick them up. Bunny is three years old and Daniel is four.

Daniel, probably laughing at silly Miss Jaimie

Their father seems kind enough, but their mother seems cold and unfriendly, especially to Bunny. Pray for these children who seem to be lacking the soothing comfort of a mother in their lives.



Today was a better day. Bunny was happy and let me take pictures of her. She's a beautiful girl when she smiles. Daniel is not in my class, but I'm his teacher for afternoon care. He was cussing again today. I've had to talk with him on a couple of occasions about his language, and today was the last straw. He seemed repentant, but I can only hope that it made an impact.

Bunny, happy to be outside


Judith, I love these children so much. Bunny is independent, which I love, but she needs someone to set up loving boundaries. Daniel is a trial because I only have him in the afternoon, so there's very little consistency. Their mom says that if their business (Clean Laundry in San Antonio) doesn't pick up, she's withdrawing them by the end of October. Not only do I think these children need me, but I think I need these children. Pray that they don't leave my life.

I'm finally beginning to see why I'm here.

Melon and Ricky

Dear Judith,


I decided that, since most of my time on this website will be talking about the kids in my class, I should tell you all about them now. Maybe at the end of the year, I can come back and compare who they are now with who they will become.

Melon

Melon was a late-comer to my class, and is one of the few American children. Her mother is some sort of doctor, and I still haven't figured out what her father does. The first day that he picked her up from school, he told me that they took a vacation to Saipan 3 years ago and they haven't left since.

I've struggled with Melon since the first day. Though she speaks mostly English (she's picked up a little Chinese from her nanny), I have a more difficult time trying to communicate with her than almost all of my Korean kids. I still haven't figured out why. I lose my patience with her more often than with any of the other kids. When asking to get up from the table, she says, "Please get up please," at least 5 times after I've already given her permission.

Today, however, felt like a breakthrough for me. Instead of asking for water by saying, "Water please," she said, "Miss Jaimie, may I have some water please?" I know that doesn't seem like enough difference to matter at all, but it made me smile. She was the first to finish her snack and I went and sat with her. We read a couple of books, and I noticed for the first time how her eyes light up when she is given personal attention. Most of the kids can't pay attention for one book, but she was engrossed in the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff. Melon is not like the other children, and I'm starting to appreciate the little things that make her an invaluable portion of my classroom.

Ricky

Ricky is a beautiful child. Pale skin is offset by his thick black hair. I loved him the first time I laid eyes on him. He only started in my class about a month ago. On his first day, I was worried about all the extra work he was going to be. He didn't seem to understand anything that we were saying. Though I'm ashamed to say it, I wished that he weren't in my class at all.

Ricky has a wonderful mother, beautiful and devoted. She stays with him during breakfast in the morning, and plays with him in the afternoons when she picks him up. I believe that his progress in the last month is due in a large part to her love and attentive care.

He cried this morning when she left, but within 2 minutes, he was joining in with worship. During stations, I held up the letter "R" and said, "Ricky, what letter?" "R!" he responded. "R is for what?" I questioned, really not expecting any sort of answer. "Ricky!" He giggled and continued with his play, while I sat there, astounded at the boy from whom I expected absolutely nothing.

Everyday, when Ricky's mom comes to take him home, as excited as he is, he never forgets to turn around and give me a hug. I didn't believe in his potential. I expected nothing from him but trouble but he has given me nothing but love.