Feliz Navidad

Yesterday was my first Christmas pageant. In our school, every grade sings a song. We chose Feliz Navidad. It was really crazy coordinating the effort, attempting to inspire the students to actually sing. We had them make shakers out of milk cartons and practiced the words over and over in our individual classrooms. And yesterday, we decided it was time for us to practice as an entire third grade. The experience was quite memorable. But what stood out to me was not the mumbling boys or the over expressive cool kids. It was the heat, the incredibly sweltering heat.

You see, there is a problem with the heating system in our pod of the school. During winter, it is so incredibly hot in our classroom. I am told that during the summer it will be incredibly cold. I do my best to keep the kids cool, but our fan is wimpy and we are required to keep the doors closed. Yesterday, we felt the heat even more keenly as 45 third graders jammed themselves into the pod area outside our doors. We had been practicing for about forty-five minutes when something quite alarming happened. The children had just practiced the about-face they have to at the beginning of the song when I saw my sweet little A, the most willing and compliant child I have ever met, crumple to the floor. I thought he tripped and didn’t want to embarrass him so I just nonchalantly asked him if he was okay, not wanting to draw to much attention to him. However, when he bounced back up, he was staggering back and forth as if here were drunk. I thought perhaps he had rolled his ankle so I rushed over to him. I caught him just in time before he fell to the floor again. He whispered to me, “Miss Brendsel, I am a little dizzy.” I finally realized that he had fainted from the heat. Truly alarmed I immediately started to lead him to the office. However, he could not walk and so I carried him to the water fountain (in my high heels). I made him drink some water to fight the dehydration. He seemed to feel revived and could walk better as I led him to the office. On the way, his grandmother, who happens to be Crazy M’s grandmother as well, ran into us. She was obviously very concerned and they took him to the clinic. Turns out it was indeed the heat—ironic since was about thirty below zero outside that day.

I ran into my principal yesterday and asked her how he was doing—it is her great-nephew that fainted and her great-niece that I lost. She seemed upset and said that I “keep it too hot in there.” She told me that I should open the doors. I was a bit annoyed as I have tried not to complain about the obvious heating problem in the room. I am not allowed to open the doors for safety reasons and I have a fan running all day long. There is little I can do about it. When I tactfully tried to note this, she dropped the matter.

Of all the children that trouble could be befall why does it always seem to follow the relations of my principal?

The Ripple Effect

There is no doubt that crazy M was very harshly rebuked for leaving without me. When she saw me today, the first thing she told me was "My grandma told me to tell you that I am sorry that I got you fired." Nice. I try to explain to her that I was not fired, but that I had resigned. Of course, she had no idea what that meant, so I had to tell her that I quit, which isn't really true--my contract only included the fall semester. I simply chose not to renew my contract for the spring. Anyway, after I told her that I 'quit' she looked up with sad eyes and said, "Did you quit because of me?" I almost cried. I cupped her little face in my hands and assured her she is the very last reason that I would quit. It was not her fault, but mine.

This incident disturbed me today, but it was even worse after I got this letter from her cousin today--the girl who had gone to the bathroom and had told me she was worried that Crazy M had left without her. Read what she wrote to me:

"Dear Miss Brendsel,

I'm sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry I'm so sorry that I will do anything if you forgive me I swere I will do anything. Im so sad. When my granma first toll me [you quit] I thought that you quit your hole job I was scared when I thought that I was about to faint. I'm emberessed to go to school now. I wished it never happened I wished I never went to that feild trip. your the best teacher in the world. If you quit, I would be mad at myself forever,

Love, H"

I cried my eyes out. I am still crying.

B

P.S. My aide gave my director my letter of resignation today. She was apparently very upset. She told him, "Did you hear that she lost a student?!" Who hasn't?

More Odds and Ends

So apparently I am not the worst teacher in history, as I thought after losing little M. I spoke with my principal, little's Ms great aunt, who told me that little's M's grandmother was not angry with me, but with little M. In fact, my principal said that it wasn't a big deal and that I should "chalk it up to experience." To say that I am relieved is the understatement of the year. I still know that she was my responsibility and that the fault remains with me, but I am now extending grace to myself as others have to me.

Now that I am in a lighter mood, I wanted to share with you a funny store about Crazy M's antics. We were riding back from Rapid and I was laying down on the seat, my eyes closed, wishing the day was over. I felt M touching me, but as to not encourage her, I said nothing. Finally, her giggles were too much and I peeked open an eye. I saw M with a giant smile on her face, gesturing towards my legs. I discovered that she had literally covered my body with stickers she had gotten from her Happy Meal. There were stickers on my jeans, my shoes, my ankles, my ears, etc. I actually found a sticker I missed in my hair just this morning. She was so proud of herself. What a crazy kid she is.

A Shameless Plus for LG Phones

So life goes on, I have learned. I slept in until 12:00 on Sunday and found out that I had still lost Maria on Saturday. At that point, I decided to get up and de-molt as it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself. My apartment lets air in like a sieve, so there was literally snow inside of my house. Plus, my apartment was so cold, the snow didn't melt. Nice. I therefore decided to spend yet another day in the classroom.

I worked/pretended to work in my classroom for a few hours. I was grading our second big unit test. Most of the third grade did really well. However, four kids did fail, earning grades below 50%. This was more than a little distressing for me. I could have hand-picked those kids who were doing poorly, a fact which reflects on my inability to teach them.

After working a few hours in my classroom, I decided to visit my country friends who were staying across the street in church housing. I love their family and it felt so good to just love on their children and talk with J. It was lovely. Needless to say, I was very hesitant to leave and re-enter the elements.

Speaking of the elements, I don't think I have given you the 411 on the weather here. Currently, it is hovering around 40 below when you factor in wind chill. Now I know some people think that it is somehow cheating to factor in the wind, but I think that it is ridiculous! If the wind makes it 40 below by golly I am saying it is 40 below!

Anyway, it was bitterly cold last night and remains such today. I was therefore scampering to my car after saying my goodbyes to my friends. I pulled into the school parking lot and dashed into my school. Actually, I spent about three minutes outside trying to unlock the ridiculous lock to the school. Once I got inside I took some time to dethaw.

Shortly after arriving in my classroom, I realized that my cell phone was gone--again. Now those of you who know me understand that this is a very regular occurrence for me. However, I had a hunch that it had fallen out of my pocket somewhere between church housing and the school. I knew my phone didn't have a chance in the 40 below weather so I decided to go check my truck and the parking lot.

I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, searching for my phone, but to no avail. I finally relenquished my search, convinced that I had either left it at my friend's place or dropped it outside the housing on my way out. Either way, it could wait till morning.

Morning turned out to be a bit later than usual as school was canceled. Of course, I didn't know this so I am sitting in my classroom in my professional dress with no students to instruct. However, one good thing did come of arriving early--I found my phone!

Believe it or not, as I was sprinting towards the school this morning, I look down to see a bright silvery object glistening in the sunlight. I left a cry of exultation as I repossess my prodigal phone. Of course, I knew it wouldn't work after spending the night in 40 below weather with only a snow drift for a bed. However, I took it into the classroom and plugged it in for kicks. To my utter astonishment, it actually turned on! However, I could here nothing when I made a call, when I checked my voicemail, etc. There was this annoying little message that was fixated on my phone: "Car-kit Mode." Having no idea how to turn this mode off, I did what any 80s baby would do--I Googled it! Within seconds I found out that this is a message that usually appears as a result of water damage and in order to fix it, one must clean the port with a toothbrush. Because I was in my classroom, the best item I had for the task was a crumpled blue ticket. Well of all the miracles beyond miracles, it actually worked! My phone is healed! Yeah for LG!!!

The Worst 30 Minutes of my Life

Last night, one of the most awful events happened. Here is the official report of what transpired.

_______________________________________________________________________

Event Occurred On December 13, around 5:30
Event Documented on December 14, 2008

I had sixteen children in my care on December 13, 2008 for the after school field trip to the movies. Fifteen were 3rd graders and one was a 1st grader. The trip there went relatively smoothly. On the way back, however, it became clear that a blizzard was coming. We drove home on roads with very poor visibility and bitter cold winds. Before the children arrived at school, I gave all access to my cell phone to allow them to notify relatives on our location and predicted arrival time.

We pulled into the back school parking lot around 5:30. The children were anxious to get off the bus and be reunited with their families. However, I made all of them remain in their seats until I checked for trash around their area. I then dismissed them one by one. I did this from front to back.

My first failure was not explicitly telling students to inform me before they left. As a result, by the time I had dismissed the last student and had gotten off the bus myself, some students were already getting into their cars. At this time, three of my students told me that they really, really, really had to go to the bathroom. I knew this to be true as they had told me this much earlier in our journey home. The tutoring trailer was not open as the director couldn’t locate the teacher, who had the keys. I therefore walked these three students halfway to the school (about fifty-yards from the general crowd) and gave them my keys to get into the school to use the bathroom. I instructed them to come back quickly. At that point, the uncle of one of the girls, who went to the bathroom, drove up to fetch her. I told him that her father had called me not fifteen minutes ago asking me to take care of her for an hour until he could fetch her. He therefore called him and cleared up the matter. The little girl came out of the bathroom and I gave her to her uncle.

After she left, I put a student had been holding my hand the whole time in my truck with the heat on so she would stay warm. Her niece soon joined her, as did her sister. I was taking them all to the church at the request of their parents when all the other kids had left. Finally, the last girl to come out of the bathroom. She told me that she couldn’t find her cousin, Crazy M, and was worried they had left without her. I told her that I doubted that her family would just leave her, assuming that Crazy M would have said something if she had left her cousin. At this point, I began to worry about where M was, as I could not see her with the remaining students. I told her to wait with the girls in the truck as I looked for M. After a few minutes of asking around, it became clear to me that I had lost M. The only students remaining were the four in my truck. The rest had gotten into cars and left when I had walked the children those fifty yards to go the bathroom. I got really worried at this point and told the director. She was clearly alarmed and upset with me, with good reason. I asked around, the students, etc. The kids in the truck had seen her running towards the tutoring trailer, but since that had been locked, she couldn’t have been in there. After about ten minutes of searching for her, the girl's aunt arrived, looking for her, M and their other cousin. I asked M's cousin to go and see if M was in her aunt'scar. She wasn’t. At this point, I became very anxious. I asked the director if we could call the bus driver to check to see if she fell asleep on the bus. The director became very very angry with me and told me that M was my responsibility and that I needed to go over to the bus garage and pound on the door myself. I didn’t know the buses were at the bus garage, or I would have done this without asking. As I was running towards the garage, M’s aunt got out of the car with a clearly worried expression. I told her I was running to check to see if she fell asleep on the bus. I pounded on the bus garage door and one of the bus drivers allowed me to check the bus. No M. I then ran back, terrified at this point. I found that Maria’s aunt and her cousins had left. I then tried to check the school I asked one of the 3rd graders who was with us if she had seen her. She had not. I then ran back into the parking lot. Another teacher was now with the director. She told me that she had seen two girls in the store with their grandmother, one of whom she thought was M, but she didn’t know their names. I asked her if one of the little girls was wearing a pink shirt, as M had been. She said that she was. This was the first bit of good news. Until the news was confirmed, the director told me to quickly run the three girls in the truck to their parents in the church parking lot. I did so and returned within five minutes. When I came back, the other teacher was gone and the director was in her car on the phone. She rolled her window down and then told me that M had been found. She was indeed with her Grandmother the whole time.

I naturally take 100% responsibility for not knowing where my students were at all times. I love my students and no one was more distraught that I lost M than I was. With the terrible weather and her propensity to wander off, last night’s saga could have ended tragically. This is a very sobering reality that has weighed heavily no my spirit. After much thought, I have concluded that as a first year, first semester teacher with no background in education and very little familiarity with the policies of Little Wound Elementary or the community at large, I am not qualified for the position of 3rd grade tutor. I therefore will not seek to renew my contract for the spring semester.

Sincerely,

BB

The Blues, Lulu and The Blueberry

Today was a very difficult day. I think it was one of the first days of the year where I spent a large portion of the day disliking my children. They seemed surprisingly disrespectful today.

I woke up this morning exhausted and in a foul mood. I was seriously mad at God for making me get up. I was even more peeved because my foot is really, really sore today. And so, my energy level was very low today, which the kids can always sense. I really had the blues.

My negative sentiments were directed towards the children when S, my little attitude girl, was caught sucking on candy. The children know the rules and when they purposefully break them, it annoys me. However, I got really annoyed when I got her again not ten minutes later with another piece in her mouth! We soon transitioned into silent reading where they read silently for 50 minutes. Today, however, they chose not to be silent. To make matters worse, little W, the daughter of my best friend out here, was one of the people talking. I almost never have to remind her to be on task, so today was an off day for her. Because the talking continued, I had to send all three kids back to their desks. At that time, I caught M (who was late today), chewing gum. I was very annoyed because she had just seen me rebuke the girl across from her for her candy. But things got all the more tense when not five minutes later, a student comes up to me and says M is chewing gum. I made her come over to my desk and open her mouth. I saw her quickly swallow the gum before opening up. That irked me all the more. But I really got tense when I realized not five minutes later that she had started to pretend she was chewing stuff just to get a rise out of me and the other students. I took her out into the hallway and had a firm talk with her. I took away her recess and P.E. privileges and made her spit out the paper she was chewing. I think she liked playing games with my head, which frustrated me all the more.

I wasn't the only teacher stressed the day. A fellow TFA corps member was so frustrated she had someone cover for her for 5 minutes while she vented in the bathroom. Her and I moaned and complained in Spanish for awhile, but it didn't make me feel too much better.

By lunch time, I purposed in my heart that it was time to change my attitude. I made myself repeat over and over again "I love my students." Love really is a choice, not a feeling. When W came in from recess because she was wearing slippers in the snow, I watched her circle the classroom and make an effort to tidy things up. Her little gestures were just precious. Finally, I asked her to come over to me and give me a hug. I wrapped in my arms and held her their until I remembered why I love my students so much. From that moment on, the rest of the day was much better.

My heart really softened as my kids stood in line to rotate classes. One of my boys said that Lulu, one of my favorite students, had threatened to beat up another kid. Surprised, I asked if this was true. She quickly denied it. I then asked her, "Are you lying to me?" I was shocked when she threw her arms around me, buried her head in my stomach and cried, "Yes!" She clung to me and wouldn't let go, clearly remorseful. (I think the remorse was in part a result of my lecture earlier in the day about our class' problem with lying). I later found out that Lulu had made that comment only after a boy had declared he was going to beat someone in our classroom up. She saucily had replied, "I will beat you up then!" I didn't punish her.

In addition to Lulu's reminder of why I love my kids, little M was up to her hilarious ways. I noticed early on in the morning that she had a blue streak on her face. Upon closer examination I realized that there were blue marker marks all over her face and completely covering her ears. When I asked her what happened, she told me that her sister gave her beautiful earrings. I roared with laughter after this comment. With her purple coat and blue face, she truly resembled a blueberry. I tried to wipe some of the marker off, but school started. Therefore, she pranced around the entire day with blue smears all over her face. She look 100% ridiculous and I loved her all the more for it!

I have included some pictures of the infamous little M and myself on our last field trip to Rapid.

Projector Blues

Nearly every day, I marvel at home I am still alive. I am one of the most clumsy people that I know. Today, I did some very foolish that wasted learning time and endangered my students and myself.

It all started with a twelve inch by twelve inch sheet of glass that was given to me by a fellow teacher. One could write on it with dry erase markers rather than directly on overhead transparencies--it is easier to erase, you see.

Because transparency technology is really outdated, I use it only when my school's curriculum requires it. Today was one of those days. I used the projector and the glass in the morning and left it where it was sitting until it was time to rotate classes for our respective departmentalized subjects. In my hurry to move the projector in time for the incoming class, I completely forgot about the glass. As I lifted the projector into the air, the glass slid off and headed towards the ground, almost in slow motion. Out of sheer reflex, I stuck my foot out to 'break' its fall--a rather painful habit that evolved from my days of playing soccer. The very corner of the glass penetrated my skin before falling to the floor in a million pieces.

My first concern was with the broken glass. I ordered my students to stay back as I surveyed the damage. It was then that I noticed my foot. Though the gash was only about two inches wide, it was extremely deep. Blood was just gushing. Soon, my tights were saturated and my blood was literally pooling on the floor. The children looked on in horror, each asking me what they should do. Trying to clear my head, I asked one of them to ring the office and ask them to send down a janitor to clean up the blood and the glass. Then I sent one of my students to go and get a fellow teacher. She stepped into the classroom, took one look at the pool of blood and the stunned children around me and ordered everyone to their seats. Meanwhile, I thought it best to go to the office and out of the line of sight of my kids. When I arrived in the office, the school secretary had a very worried expression on her face--especially after she saw that my tights were literally saturated with blood. The school nurse was nowhere to be found so I waited in the office with my foot up as people who passed by gathered to see me bleed. Finally, the nurse arrived. She took one look at it and told me that I needed to go get stitches. And so, the school's security officer was commissioned to take me to a town an hour away for treatment. (I couldn't go to the clinic across the street because I am not Lakota). Lamenting the loss of learning time, I gave my the librarian my lesson plans and asked her to teach my class for me. As a former TFA corps member and Middle School Teacher of the year last year, I knew I could trust her. After I gave her some parting words of advice, I hobbled towards the exit.

My trip to the clinic was uneventful. However, I was a teeny-weeny bit annoyed by the fact that one of the staff workers kept commenting on how young I was to be a teacher. I told her I was nearly 23, but this didn't seem to impress her...

The doctor came to treat me soon after I arrived. It did not take long and only required two stitches (it was deep, not wide). I got a bit nauseous when he lifted up my skin with a needle in order to numb it. Other than that, I was a trooper.

The entire trip to took about three hours. I got back just in time to show my children that I was okay. Many of them looked genuinely concerned. In fact, when I stepped back into my classroom, a gaggle of girls rushed up to me and threw their arms around me. It was precious.

I ran into M, who is not in my homeroom, in the hallway. She shouted, "Miss Prenzill!! You're back! Are you okay?!" As I began to assure her that I was just fine, she cut in, "Can I borrow 50 cents?" When I shot her a look, she beamed up at me and said, "Josh!" You got to love little M.

Yours truly,

B

Meet Martha Stewart...Or Not

I think that I have sort of earned a reputation around the school as a sort of a Grinch. It is no secret that I detest the way holidays are commercialized, that the school spends a ridiculous amount of money on decorations and wastes way too much precious learning time for parties, parades and assemblies. However, in all fairness, I have had a complaining spirit of late. I really wanted to make today better..and it was my big chance.

Today was the first ever learning-circle run family craft night. At Little Wound family craft-nights are a really big deal. School administrators set up tables where really nice crafts can be made (scarves, wreathes, etc.). Dinner is also provided. As you can imagine, the combination of the two really draws in the crowds. Well, they decided to try a craft night run by the elementary school staff. Each teacher, K-5, was responsible for doing a craft in their room. Now for those of you who know me at all, you know that crafting is the antithesis of what I am good at. I hate crafts and the idea of doing a craft night was appalling. Nevertheless, the teachers around me remained gleeful, despite my melancholy.

Yesterday, we found out that the craft kits we ordered from a catalog never were actually ordered. That meant that the night before craft night we had no crafts and no supplies. One of the third grade teachers left so it was up to P and I to dig rummage through the closets of other teacher's classrooms to find Christmas supplies. In the end, we threw together a hodge-podge of stuff for tonight.

If my day only got more hectic this morning. I woke up exhausted and was expecting a delay start because of the snow. There wasn't. I dragged myself to school and tried to pretend to be excited. A few hours into the day (seemed like decades), my college professor (and high school principal) came by and told me I needed to take my grad class semester final after school. I had expected to take it tomorrow after studying. So no studying...

I survived to the end of the day (miracle). The minute the kids were on the bus, I ran over to my professor's office and grabbed the test. I ran back to my class only to find that one of the cars didn't have a driver to run some kids home. As a result, I had about eight kids in my classroom while I was trying to finish my semester final. I was typing like a maniac while trying to keep an eye on the kids. I finished with enough time to grab some food from the cafeteria and literally wolf it down as I frantically tried to prepare for craft night.

The first family arrived thirty minutes early--of course. By the time 6:30 rolled around, the room was extremely hot and overcrowded. My family friends were there--the ones I had Thanksgiving with. That made things a lot better. I think most of the families enjoyed the craft. We made flower pens. I admit that I felt so foolish modeling how to make the craft. I looked ridiculous. My family would have died from laughter.

We had a drawing for gift cards. The minute--nay, the second--I finished drawing for winners, the entire classroom emptied like the rapture had come. I was left sitting with a classroom that looked like a tornado went through it and a child who needed a ride home. I currently sitting in the eye of the storm, wishing the cleaning fairy would come and clean my room for me. Lord preserve me!

P.S. Our flower pens were cooler because we used Christmas flowers.

Let the Healing Come

In a few short weeks, I will arrive upon the one year anniversary marking my acceptance to Teach for America. At about this time last year, I was in the final stage of the interview process. I remember how nervous I was riding the train to Philadelphia by myself-my first time in the city. I remember how the cold stung my cheeks as I walked to Temple University, how clammy my hands were in the office and how ironic I thought it was that the receptionist was a Christian. All that day, the hand of God was leading me--showing me that He was with me. I remember crying during my interview, asking a veteran corps member how she dealt with the challenges, my heart already breaking for my children. I remember leaving that interview knowing that I was going to be a teacher.

Shortly after I got accepted, I decided that for the first time in my life, I was going to chronicle the journey God was taking me on. It is so easy to forget where we have come from--how faithful the Lord has been. I am so glad that I did. From this humble little blog, I believe that God has broken my heart and the hearts of His people for my babies here at Little Wound.

For some reason, I felt like God wanted me to take the time today to explain the title of my blog "Lakota Rapha: Let the Healing Coming." Names have always been very important to me (maybe because I dislike mine so much). As I mulled over many possibilities, I felt God leading me to choose the current title. In a way, it describes my purpose here. "Lakota" of course refers to the Oglala Lakota--the people I am serving here. "Rapha" is Hebrew for "heal" or "healer". I am sure many of you have heard the term Jehovah Rapha"-God the Healer. Fused, Lakota and Rapha become my prayer: the healing of the Lakota--not just any healing but the healing power of God. Government aid won't heal them, anthropologist won't heal them, medicine men won't heal them. Only the transformative power of God will redeem the Lakota people and use their beautiful culture for His glory. That is my prayer, that they may know the healing I and believers before me have come to know. This is a healing that can come from God alone.

In case you didn't know,

B

Margaritaville

Last night was a really, really long night. I went to my first TFA event in a long time. We were having a corps/staff wide celebration in Rapid at a fancy Italian restaurant. Though I am not really close with anyone of the corps, I decided to join, just to try to be social. Since no one had called offering to car pool with me, I planned on driving myself. However, while I was asleep yesterday morning, a fellow teacher and corps member here at LWS offered me a ride in. He and his fiance are always very considerate of including me. Drowsy and not-cleared headed, I agreed. I would later very much regret the choice.

The ride down was really pleasant. It was a nice change to speak with adults. We first went to Wal Mart where I was able to use the $200 given to us by the after-school program to buy a Tag Leap Frog system. I am pretty stoked about it. I also got six books to go with it (pretty pricey).


After that, things went downhill. We went over to the restaurant where I proceeded to be permanently awkward. I have never done well in large group settings--especially when I don't know/like anyone really well. It didn't help that everyone else--and I mean everyone else--either had a roommate present or a significant other. Furthermore, the fact that I have almost nothing in common with the majority of the corps, aside from our classrooms, made conversation very difficult for me. I realized that all was hopeless when the only other Christian there asked me "So, what do you do to socialize?" When I replied that my social life mainly included 8-10year olds, the school's custodian and the family of one of my students, he was speechless. I believe that my response solidified in his head his belief that I am a complete social pariah and likely a holier-than-thou type Christian. Perhaps that is why of all my teammates, he and I probably talk the least, though we have Jesus in common. It was a real bummer.

After the mortifying lunch, things got worse. I wasn't sure they could, but they did. My ride had a meeting at 5:00pm so his fiance and I waited around for nearly two hours. She wanted a hair cut so we walked around Rapid in the freezing wet cold, but to no avail. When J was finally done with his meeting, it was 7:00 and really time to go. I had planned on being back by 6:00, so I really was behind in my work schedule. As we said our goodbyes and prepared to head home, a corps member warned him to be careful of the icy roads. It planted a seed of fear in his East-coast head. After about seven minutes of driving, he decided we would spend the night. I was horrified.

I immediately proceeded to text another friend from Kyle and ask if she would take me home. She agreed, but the catch was that she was at the bar. And so, my ice-fearing friends dropped me off at the bar and the next nightmare stage of my evening began.

I have always felt uncomfortable around heavy drinking. I do not like how it makes people act. I especially do not like when people who have authority over me and whom I respect, make fools of themselves drinking. As I looked around from face to face, my ears recoiling against the sound of too-high-pitched laughter, I was deeply saddened. The room was filled with some of the most intelligent people in the nation. These individuals had attended the best colleges in our country and earned grades many would die for. They would no doubt become leaders of our nation one day. And they also were passionate about ending educational inequality. These were exceptional people. But tonight all that was forgotten. They were simply drunk young adults, making passes on one another, egging each other on and attempting to drown the pain they simply couldn't cope with. It was all too much for me.

After we finally left (my driver does not drink), my sadness only deepened as I was privy to all the gossip of the corps. I will not go into details, but I was horrified by the unprofessionalism of the corps and some of the staff. It also made me angry. Where did these people find time to have Days of Our Lives-type lives? These kids need us--all of us.

But then I remembered something my big sister once told me: "Brittany, you can't expect darkness to produce light." My younger sister added, "Be Jesus." This reminded me that I am here night only to serve and love the children in my school, but to be Jesus to my team, for it is He alone who can drive out darkness.

Please pray for my team,

B

My Cup Runneth Over

Can joy be felt? I am so joyful right now, that it is no longer just a sentiment or an emotion. It is palatable. I feel as if a stranger could almost touch my joy. Allow me to share with you some reasons why.

First, if you could just meet my babies, you would understand. I have the most wonderful children. All day long, they do things that make me love them more. Even when they do wrong, I better realize how much I love them because I know that the consequences I give are to make them better people, not just to get them to obey.

Today, two of my students did something that nearly brought me to tears. I was sitting down in a chair beside a student when she threw her arms around my neck and gave me a huge slobbery kiss, as only little girls can give. Another baby--the hilarious one that is on a kindergarten reading level, though not in my homeroom--also gave me a huge hug and a big kiss before leaving. She squeezed me real tight and I almost cried as I hugged her back. She has had a horrendous life, yet is like a bubbling brook, overflowing with life. She calls me "Miss Prenz-ill" because she can't say my name. Physically and intellectually, she is very much like a first grader. I call her Crazy M and I am extremely fond of her. In fact, as she stood on her tip-toes to give me a hug, I couldn't help but think that this is what it feels like to have a daughter. These children, they are not just my students. I honestly love them as if they were from my own flesh. And can you believe that they actually pay me for this?

God also has continued to show me amazing favor in this place. I was observed by three very important people: the Little Wound literacy coach and former Middle-School-Teach of the Year, my principal and my Teach for American program director. Thanks to our Father, I receieved really, really good reviews. They think very highly of me as a teacher, to which I just shake my head in disagreement. In terms of executing lessons, I am simply average, if that. But I am so passionately in love with my kids, that a lot of my flaws are glossed over. The children sense and embrace my affection and in turn are willing to work extremely hard. For example, yesterday my principal was to observe my class. About two minutes after she came in, a staff member told me I had to attend a special ed meeting. My principal, TM, told me to leave and said that she would watch my kids. I put T in charge and instructed the class to share their writing with Ms. Mendoza as well as what they were learning. When I came back, TM was extrememly impressed. She said that she was just in awe of my kids. In fact, when one of my students shared about what she would change in the world and ended by looking her in the eye and telling her she loved her, TM said she nearly cried. As she was leaving, I asked her when she planned on observing me as I had not been in the classroom. Pausing, she turned to me and said, "I observed your kids. It's all I needed to see." I left that day praising God for His incredible favor.

So I just wanted to thank all of you for praying. God is answering our prayers and using me for His glory.

So much love,

B

A Night Visitor

Today the most strange thing occurred. I was fell asleep, quite spent, after studying for the LSATs. I suddenly awoke. I was quite tired and wanted to continue sleeping, but for some reason I knew I had to get up. So I through my coat on, grabbed my keys and headed towards my classroom. On my way out, I heard someone knocking on the door. I couldn’t help but wonder at the timing. When I arrived at the door, I was startled to see one of my students rapping on the window. Now this boy and I are close, but he certainly has never expressed any interest in visiting me. I asked him what in the world was going on. He was evasive at best. All I could get out of him was that he had been with his cousin, his mom had taken their brother to the hospital in Pine Ridge and he had no where to go. He seemed shaken. Now he has been acting very strangely over the past few days so I was worried. However, I nonchalantly invited him to come with me to the classroom.

First thing I did was have him call his mom who said she would be by soon. I ceased pressing him on the situation that brought him to my door. After about a half of an hour, his mother arrived outside. I gave the boy a hug and said goodbye. I could tell he was reluctant to leave. Nevertheless, I was stunned when he came running back not ten seconds later and asked me if he could stay with the night with me. Now, I do not think I was imagining the desperation in his eyes. I told him that do that, he would need a signed note from his mom. Agreeing, he dashed off into the night. I held the door open so he could report the news. He ran back after conferencing with his mom and told me that she didn’t know if I could. His communication was unclear and he was clearly nervous. I asked him what he meant by “she didn’t know.” I asked him if she got a note, but he shook his head. I told him that I couldn’t take him without his mother’s consent. He asked me if he could ask again. I nodded and watched him dash over to his mother’s door. This time I could hear yelling at him “I said no!” I turned my head the other way, embarrassed for him. He soon came dashing back and said “She said no.” I gave him a hug and told him to call me if he needed anything. Again, he ran into the night.

I have a very uneasy feeling about the whole situation. This kid is not a clingy kid and though we clearly get along, has never been overly affectionate or even expressed any desire to spend more time with me. This situation clearly stemmed from drama at home. Please join me in praying for my little boy.

B

It is a memory that I hope to take with me to my grave. It was a crystal-clear morning and the sun was just about to reach its peak over the Black Hills of South Dakota. From time to time, by breath came out in little wisps as I walked. The scene before me was a feast for the eyes. Golden hills stretched seemingly endlessly towards the horizon, kissing the sky with its long blades of prairie grass. We were the only humans to be seen within a thirty mile radius. The world was are playground.

On my left hand side, H giggled with glee as she gripped my mitten-clad hand. In hear eagerness, she often tripped and I almost seemed to be carrying her with my one arm, preventing her from falling. On my left, W clung to her beloved teacher. The high pony-tail I gave her earlier that morning swung side to side as we tromped through the hills. In front on me E blazed the path. She was confident in her movement, her stride suggesting that she was much older than 12. M, so much like me when I was her age, defiantly took the most laborious path, jumping from bolder to bolder and refusing any help when at all possible. She embraced the road less traveled. Completing our ensemble was my little warrior,T, who was making revving noises like a truck. He raced back and forth, round and round. Working double duty as the sun during the night and a car during the day, T was a fireball of energy. He embodies all that is good about children, a hunger to explore, a sense of adventure, innocence, compassion and a good imagination. I have talked with mom about arranging to have my future daughter marry him.

The six of us spent a few glorious hours together, walking through the country, tackling a primitive rope swing, trekking around an enormous porcupine the fondly christened "Porky" and gallivanting through the hills. I felt so alive and part of something so much bigger as I zipped up their stubborn zippers, gave up my mittens to fingers more worthy than mine and practically dragged the younger ones up the hill as their sense of adventure outlasted the strength in their feet. I hope to never forget the image of all five them running up that final hill, their waist-long golden hair in beautiful disarray and their smiles broad. I could scarcely breathe at the sight. At that moment the world--no, our world--seemed perfect.

I have included a picture of Red Hawk, a great Oglala leader. I find it very moving that today, five of his descendents roamed the same hills in this photo, land he was willing to die for. In realitiy, the spirit of the Lakota people was seen today in all its glory.

Book the Third

This final posting for the night includes a smorgasbord of info. For example, many of you may be thrilled to know that M arrived on time again today--that makes 7 days straight!! I was so stoked. She barely made it and she wasn't in the best of moods, but we had a good time today and I made a big deal of it.

Reading is still going very well. I am amazed at how much my kids are growing. Please, please pray for a miracle: that ALL my children would be on a fourth grade reading level by year's end.

Social Studies was both good and bad today. On the bad side, most of the 3rd grade did very poorly on their tests. I was very disappointed. They had a million reasons why they didn't study but they were just excuses. It was a wake up call for both of us.

Also, two of my students were talking during the test. I told them to stop once. Then I told them I would give the both Fs if they said another word. To my surprise, they did again! And so, I got up and took their tests. They both looked a little stunned. I simply said, "I warned you." Later, one of the girls timidly came up to my desk. There were tears in her eyes. She told me "Miss Brendsel, I was only asking how to spell a word." I explained to her that I had no way of knowing if she and T were cheating. Also, I had warned them not to talk anymore. But then as I looked into her very remorseful eyes, I remembered a time in second grade when a sub grabbed by the arm and told me to "keep my eyes on my own paper." I was mortified. I remember that the only reason I was looking at the kid's paper was because I had bet him that he couldn't get every word right on his test and I was just checking his status. I was NOT cheating. I was humiliated by her accusation and when I looked at W, I remembered that moment and felt a wave of compassion and grace. I told her that I believed her and that I would give her grace this one time. I therefore allowed both children to retake the test at lunch. After all, the purpose of the test was to see what they were learning, not determining if they were getting into Harvard.

And finally, today I got offered the JV Girls Basketball coach position. The school secretary and someone from HR plotted together to get me to fill this vacant position. To take on this job, I would have to quit the after school program. It would also require that I leave school early on game days and attend practices every day until however long. Worst of all, it would require that I interact with teenagers...Yikes! I went over to the high school and met the head coach--the cousin of one of my students and the secretary's son. He seemed nice enough and like he knew his stuff. As for the girls, I will admit that they scared. They looked like a tough bunch. Natives are naturally built taller than most people from back home and this was very evident from the team. I am fairly tall but many of the girls towered over me and looked as if they could break me in half and eat me up for dinner.

I'll be honest-- I was afraid. I was not afraid that they would hurt me, but that when (not if) they were disrespectful, that I would not know how to deal. I can't exactly tell a 17 year-old girl that she is not being "a world changer." Can you imagine her reply? I can, and it includes a lot of expletives. I have known this for a long time--my gifting is with younger children. That is where God has called me. I am not willing to miss class time and abandon the after school program to coach, even if it is a sport I once loved. I am called to love my babies. And so, I am going tomorrow I am going to respectfully say No--a big deal for me.

Well, I had better get back to work!

B

Book the Second

In other news...

My blizzard-bound children have finally returned to school. I was truly overjoyed. In fact, there presence caused today to be the first day we had perfect attendance in a long time. They add such a beautiful dimension to our class.


In total, the J girls missed 10 school days. However, in reality they probably received as good, if not better, education at home. Their mom, J, is an amazing teacher and a good friend. Actually, J reminds me a lot of my research partner from Uganda, who lives in Alaska, is getting married in December and moving to Thailand. They both are always doing crazy things. For instance, J has strep so she told me that she was using all sort of objects to scrape the white stuff off her throat. I could just see her using a fork to scrape the bacteria off her throat. Gross! And at church the other day, I noticed that she was wearing glasses. I was shocked when she pulled them from her face and they snapped back! One of the babies broke one arm of the glasses so she broke the other off and attached elastic instead! I laughed so hard. She is always doing funny things like that. But I guess she has to having seven kids to take care of with no running water, heat or electricity.

I am having Thanksgiving with their family on Thursday. I can't wait to see how the are going to cook a 20 pound turkey in a wood stove!

P.S. In some ways, J reminds me of Annie Oakley, so I have included a picture of the famous tamer of the West.

Book the First

I have a lot to talk about today, so perhaps I will do so in pieces. I shall call this "Book the First."

Chapter 1: The Ear Infection

Thanks to horrendous family genetics (thanks daddy), my ear canals are defective and do not properly drain. The result? Frequent and extremely painful ear aches. Indeed, since I was a child, I have been prone to these attacks which cause me to feel as if a balloon was being blown up inside of my head. I usually get one a year. However, I got two in Thailand--one of which was the most painful in my life. The last one I had was a birthday present in Uganda. I ended up crying the entire night as I lay on the cool tile floor.

This weekend, I continued this tradition by getting yet another ear infection. However, this time the grace of God, a lot of love and a whole lot more common sense caused me to act in the much early stages of the pain. You see, the familiar dull throbbing pain started on Saturday. It proceeded to get worse on Sunday morning, but I tried to remain optimistic. My fellow teacher, fellow church-goer and close friend here told me that I should go to Urgent Care in Rapid. (R is kinda like my Auntie. Her hubby says that I would be the perfect daughter for her. I told her I was already happily taken, Mommy!) However, as you already know if you are a faithful blog reader, I despise Rapid City. I brushed her suggestion aside, citing my lost insurance card (which was true). However, when my other excellent friend, R, suggested that I go to the clinic, I thought perhaps I should. So I called R and told her I would make a search for my card. However, I only planned on putting forth a tiny bit of effort since I didn't really want to go. In fact, I sent up a Hail Mary prayer that went something like this "God, if you want me to go to Rapid, help me find my insurance card." I might as well have said, "P.S. Keep it hidden!" But, as you may have expected the very next pair of jeans I picked up had my card underneath. Now, this is a modern day miracle as my room is so messy, I half to part-time as a bulldozer to get to my bed! Needless, to say, I humbly asked R to take me to Rapid.

I can now say that I am truly thankful I went. I was able to get a diagnosis and double dose of Amoxicyllin for just $25! I love insurance! Also, the medicine prevented me from experiencing the most severe stages of the ear infection and I am happy to report that I am now on the mend.

Chaperone

Sometimes I wonder if I am qualified to chaperone field trips...especially since I had to hop over two barricades, scale a wall and slide down a fence to get un-locked-out of my school today. In spite of my doubts, today I chaperoned twenty third graders from our after-school program on a field trip to Rapid.

The day started off hectic. I had a couple of kids try to sneak onto the bus, though they had never been to Wo Lakota. There wasn't enough room on the bus for K-3 so my kids had to triple up. Plus, I had to sit in the very back of the bus, where suspension is not existent. By the time we had driven three miles, one girl had spilled blue Power Ade on my copy of Crime and Punishment, I was nauseous from being jostled and had been deemed a loser by a nine-year-old for not ever having kissed a boy (though she didn't dare use the term 'loser').

Things only got more interesting as the day wore on. I had to gather the lunch request of 20 crazy kids which was not a fun task. You cannot imagine how many ways a basic cheeseburger can be ordered! When we got to Wendy's things were even more chaotic as I attempted to match each box of fries and hamburger with its salivating owner. To my annoyance, several of the children whined about the delay or pouted about getting a smaller drink--though I will admit in hindsight that the complaints were minimal considering the delay. In fact, a few customers in the restaurant commented on how well-behaved my kids were. I did have to make little MM stand without a chair because she kept leaning it back (I taped it to the floor in the classroom).

After our experience at Wendy's we headed to the movie theatre where each child was allowed to pick out a huge box of candy, a super-size-me-size soda (in addition to the soda from Wendy's) and share a bag of popcorn so big, only the Brendsel clan would even attempt to return for seconds. I could only shake my head and wonder why people questioned the diabetes rate on the Rez.

The kids were allowed to see one of three movies: High School Musical 3, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Bolt and Madagascar: Escape to Africa. I would rather eat Mopani worms again than watch HS Musical 3 with boy crazy 3rd graders. Any movie with the words "Beverly Hills" and "Chihuahua" were out for me. And since I never saw the first Madagascar, Bolt was the only remaining option. So, I arranged all the children in line by movie presence and waited to watch Bolt.

Unfortunately, the experience was dampened by Hannah Montana. Remember her? She called little M fat. She started sobbing in line. I was really, really upset. I pulled Hannah aside and really reamed her. She was near tears by the time I was done with her. I don't know if I have the authority to temporarily suspend her from Wo Lakota, but I am formulating a re-education plan for Hannah. I am sick of her biting inappropriate remarks. It is time she was held accountable.

As for M, she was really, really hurt. The Wo Lakota director came over and very forcefully told her to wipe away her tears and remember that "Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you." I was extremely annoyed. Does anyone actually believe that is true? One word has the power to wound the soul for decades. When she left, I told M that I knew those words hurt and that she could cry all she wanted. But I am afraid her little soul is wounded.

We went to the movie, which was surprisingly good, and returned home without further incidence. It was a far more pleasant day (besides Hannah's awful remark) than I had imagined.

Letter of Comfort

One of my favorite parts of my day is our two hour literacy block in the morning. Initially, I hated it because I didn’t have a clue what was going on. However, I am now getting the hang of things and it is truly amazing watching a child develop a love of reading.

Our Writing block follows reading and last an hour each day. I teach a skill for about fifteen minutes and then leave them to produce whatever they wish.

Today, I told my students that one of our staff members had lost a brother. The situation was really tragic and highly preventable. This particular staff member has been nothing but kind to me and I can tell she is grieving so deeply. I thought the kids might encourage her so I proposed that some of them write her letters during independent writing time. One of my students, little A, wrote the following piece. I have clarified meaning where necessary as some of you may not be skilled in the art of decoding kid-speak:

Dear S-

But im [I am] sorry what happend to your brother I wise [wish] I can say something to him. I will pray for him every time berore [before] I will go bed and we all love you every day[.] You can put food out thein and pray to him.

We love him.

by A.

I was so touched by this special message I made a photo copy for myself and nearly cried. A is one of my favorite students as he has such a sweet spirit and is so eager to please. He has had a hard life and such compassion coming from an eight-year-old encourages me regarding the future of our world.

B

The Children

So I thought I should give some updates on the children.

I guess I should start with bad news. Do you remember B? He was the boy that I thought had some evil spirit over him or something. Well, he has not been doing well. A few weeks ago he had to be restrained after punching and striking several people. Yesterday, he slapped a girl. And yes, he is still in school. Though he has been suspended several times, he just repeats the behavior. He has not been to my class in such a long--since before Halloween. He told my aide that he is scared of my class. I know that is a bunch of lies. He just knows I will make him work and not put up with his games. I am not afraid of him, though both of the other teachers are. So, in short, we really need to pray for him. I don't think he will be here much longer.

S, my little attitude girl is really progressing. I am really pleased to tell you that she is definitely reading on a higher level. She currently is hovering around the end of 1st grade, beginning of 2nd grade mark. Yes, this is not amazing, but remember that she came in at a Kindergarten level. Attitude wise, she still breaks a lot of our rules. However, she hasn't been as rebellious of late.

Finally, little M. I am so, so happy to tell you that she has been on time to school every day for the last five days! This is a huge feat for a girl who was tardy over 25 days last quarter. I am always quick to point this out and praise her constantly. We get along real well. She will eat a entire Hershey bar and bring me the last precious square, which is usually a bit melted after being cupped in her hand so long. The other day she brought me a half-consumed bottle of lukewarm strawberry milk. Pushing back thoughts of bacteria, I thank her as if she is giving me the moon. Her eyes just light up. I love that girl.

The other kids continue to do well. They are all progressing in their reading and I usually only have to deal with minor misbehavior. However, I did have two children in the after-school program sneak out. That was both scary and embarrassing for me as a teacher. I really reamed them the next day. As a consequence, they are banned from the after-school program and must make-up the two hours by coming in during recess--a kid's worst fear.

I have also realized that I am now able to observe when a child has deviate from his or her normal attitude. When I notice this shift, I take the child aside and ask him or her the reason--and there is almost always a reason. Today, my kids were really disengaged in times. After stopping class and acting what was up, I found out that one had gone to her Aunt's funeral (she froze to death in Rapid last week). Another was pulled out of bed to make an emergency trip to Rapid, not getting back to late. Still another was up late into the night preparing to move the next day. And so again I am reminded that when my children come to school, they come from difficult lives and backgrounds--lives I can never understand.

Well, keep my babies in your prayers,

B

Lock-Down

Two days ago, I was tossing and turning in my bed, wondering how my class should ever escape should a gunman ever arrive on campus, as our classroom is windowless. I thought about possible hiding spots, techniques to overpower the gunman, etc. Today, I was forced to recall those dreams with far more urgency.

It was a long yesterday. I arrived home at 10:40, only to realize I have forgotten to cook the six pizzas in my fridge for our pizza party the next day. Needless to say, I didn't get to bed until late into the midnight hour. Therefore, I woke up exhausted this morning. Things didn't improve when I arrived to find that my room had not been cleaned for the second day in a row. Normally this is not a problem as I usually clean it, but the mud has been so think of late there was dried dirt everywhere in our classroom. Plus, I was really frustrated to have to give my kids a worthless test from our curriculum simply because the textbook told me to.

However, things really took a turn for the worst just after I sent one of my students to the office to go home because he was real sick. As I sent him off, I heard a loud knocking on the door. My former teacher's aide is certainly not her cheerful self and practically shoves the sick student in the door. In a short voice, she whispered "We're on lock-down mode!"

For those of you who don't know what lock-down mode is, it means that there has been a threat to the safety of the students in the school and nobody is to go in or out of the classrooms. I could tell that this was not a test so I ordered my students to get in a circle against the wall of the classroom. I flipped off the lights and whispered the news to my children. I explained to them that something may be wrong and that we needed to be quiet. I tried to keep talking so as not to scare them. We sat there, huddled together for about fifteen minutes. Most of the kids were only mildly frightened as we still did not know what was going on. Suddenly, I noticed the light was still on in the classroom next door--the one that is connected to mind. So I tip-toed over and peeked into the classroom. I was shocked to find that they were all acting completely normal. I asked the teacher if she knew that we were in lock-down mode. She nodded in the affirmative but explained to me that we were supposed to remain calm and conduct everything as normal, except that no one was aloud in or out. This seemed ridiculous to me for a number of reasons, many I am sure you could imagine. However, sensing that there was no serious threat at hand, I allowed the children to read silently at their desks with one dim light on.

We waited like that for two nearly two hours. And there were some scary moments. The kids were calm as I explained that it was probably some punk kid in the high school who brought a knife to school. One of my students asked me what I would do if someone came in with a gun. I tried to made a lame joke, but I was asking myself the same question. How could I protect my children in a room with no windows but two doors and virtually no place to hide? Another girl, with very serious eyes told me that we needed to go around the circle and find out who knew karate and kung-fu. I laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation. I wish I could be so Innocent to assume that a karate kick would stop an angry kid with a gun.

Finally, as quickly as it started, my principal came by and told me the lock-down had been lifted. I later found out that I was right--a punk kid did come to the school with a weapon. No one was hurt and from what I could gather, no one was in real danger.

I imagine I will be processing today for years to come. However, one thing I immediately took away was the frailty of human life. I always joke with my children "I will protect you." I shield them from bees, guard them from ghosts, chase away men dogs. But I realized today that this really isn't true. I can't stop their parents from beating them, the stranger from driving drunk or even a angry and bitter kid from coming to school with a gun. That, I must give to my Father.

B

Summer

So over the last few days I have started to plan what I will be doing this next summer--never a good thing. I decided it was time to start prepping for law school. That's right, I want to be a lawyer...I think. I am very intersted in studying Human Rights Law, with an International emphasis. Who knows at what point this would happen in my life--maybe the fall of 2010, maybe not. However, I am going to take the LSATs in June, so I need to get studying.

In other news, I have been trying to figure out what I will do with the rest of my summer. I have thought about going back to Uganda and teaching either street kids or former child soldiers. But I also really, really want to work in the Middle East or Central Asia. Afghanistan, Egypt and Pakistan all sound like they have potential.

Oddly enough, while doing some research, I came upon Global Expeditions website. That is the organization I went to Botswana with for 2 months when I was 16. Ironically, when I clicked the link to view their trip to Uganda, I was startled to see this picture: http://www.globalexpeditions.com/projects.php?ProjectName=Uganda

Yep, it's me. That 16 year old me in Botswana, advertising for a trip to Uganda. I thought it was weird that of all the pictures Global Expeditions have and all the places they could have put it, the stuck it on the Uganda page. Even more crazy is the fact that I found it. So weird.

If anyone has any ideas of where I should go or what I should do, please let me know.

Regards,

B

Common Sense, Or Lack There Of

Yesterday, my baby sister told me in a very non-babysister tone, that she was the one with common sense and I was the smart one. I was very much ruffled by this declaration! I think I have common sense and I certainly am not more intelligent than the average person. I got a bit defensive and declared that I had common sense. There was silence on the line for a bit, until she firmly declared "You do not." Last night, as I was tossing and turning, tormented by her remark, I remembered that big sister had also once said the same thing! Outraged, I realized that my sisters thought I was common-sense less!

This morning, I thought perhaps that I should have a blog vote--let my readers decided if I have common sense or not. But then I got to thinking of the time I locked myself out of the school and had to huddle for warmth in the box of my truck. I also remembered when I spray painted my face yellow and left my truck lights on. I tried to forget how my truck rolled away yesterday because I parked it on a hill in neutral or how I managed to unfreeze my emergency brake only to backup myself into a snow drift the next day. But thankfully I forgot how I once had to spend the night in my classroom because I lost my keys and how I drove around for two months before I realized I didn't have car insurance.

So, all of events may suggest to the untrained eye that I indeed have no common senese--or at least rotten luck. But I know better. I mean, who could endure all of those trials yet remain unscathed and still be in love with my job. Beat that sisters!

B

At Your Service

Some of my more loyal readers have requested that I do a better job of updating my blog. Though I can make no promises in terms of long-term improvement, I will make an effort.

I am currently sitting at my desk, munching on double-stuffed Oreos and drinking lukewarm reducedfat milk. I have been here since 7:15, waiting. Today is round two of parent-teacher conferences. I really can't believe that I am a teacher. I alone administered the final pen strokes, deciding a child's academic fate. I learned how heart-wrenching it is to give out F's and the absolute jubilation one feels after a struggling child has earned and A. And it was me who filled in the comment box, indicating the academic and social progress of their child. I remembered how much I treasured those words as a child, desparte for the praise of my teacher. Needless to say, I wrote with care.

Meeting with parents has been great. I have had no raging parents--something I was really afraid of. Three of my parents who had children get Ds in my Social Studies class came in--all of whom said they never saw the study guides I sent home. I got their emails and promised to email them and let them know when I was sending one out.

In other news....a prospective TFA candidate from Messiah called me and interviewed me for a paper she is writing. She also had a lot of questions about teaching the Native population. It was really, really cool to speak with someone from Messiah. Although I rarely think about Messiah now--I am far too busy--I miss it when I remember.

Well, that is all for now.

Peace

Why me?

Since I was a very, very young girl, I remember thinking to myself that there was more to life than most people realize. Long before I was a believer, I felt in my soul that people were missing something and I did not want to be one of those people.

As I grew older, I began to find glimpses of this something more--of humanity's true potential--in the books I read. I became addicted to the stories that could transport me to another world. I identified with so many of the characters, especially their failings. Some books I would read over and over with again, praying that that character's strengths would somehow leak into my soul. I saw myself as a heroine. Indeed, for a long time, I could picture my life as some dramatic quest. Ordinary challenges like tough math tests or angry teammates were transformed into cosmic battles with ferocious dragons or clever ghouls. The trials I faced in this heroic journey were numerous and deadly, but always, I was sustained by a greater power and always, victory was reached at last.

More and more, I am beginning to feel that books like the Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia and A Voice in the Wind are so moving to me because there is more than a little truth to them. I believe that there is a great battle of good and evil that is going on all around us, though most of us are so unaware. In fact, this battle is even more important than the battle for Middle Earth or for Narnia. This battle is for the very souls of humankind. There are some people are indeed rising up to wage war against the enemy, but most like the hobbits of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, would rather pretend or disbelieve the reality of the presence of this battle. And oddly enough, I feel like Frodo when he said to Gandalf
"I wish it need not have happened in my time,"
"So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that has been given us.

That is how I feel--that I am living in such dark times, where the battle around us in more intense than ever before because the enemy knows his end is near. But as this battle rages, I feel like I have been entrusted with something few have been entrusted with and I don't understand why. I think Frodo captures my cry when he said to Gandalf,

"Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?"
"Such questions cannot be answered. You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits that you have."

Oddly enough, Gandalf's remarks remind me of our Lord when declares that He chose us rather than we choosing Him and that He has chosen the foolish of the world to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong. But unlike Frodo Baggins of the Shire, I can have the peace of knowing the end of the great battle in which I now fight.

I Should Have Chose Hawaii

What was I thinking. They have Teach for America Hawaii. I mean, those kids need a lot of love too...At least this has been my line of thinking since the big blizzard of 08 hit Kyle, South Dakota.

Now I am no wimp. I grew up in Montana and I know how ugly weather can get. But the last few days are different. It started to snow around 3:00. The flakes were huge--the size of quarters. But what is a little snow? Well, it isn't the snow that is bad--it is the wind. The wind has been blowing at about 60 mph. Visibility is around 5 feet. My power went out around midnight--which meant no heat and no stove. I woke up to the same nasty weather. I couldn't listen to the radio and find out if there was school since I had no power. I have no phone, no radio, no television and no Internet. I therefore had no idea if there was school this morning. And so, I tried to drive to the school. That would have been a great idea had my truck started. I tried to get back into my building only to find that ice had formed in the key hole of the outside door of my apartment. I was really scared to be locked out, but I eventually shoved it in there and returned to my frigid apartment.

I found out school was canceled when another teacher in the apartment knocked on my door. So, I went back to bed and slept until noon. I think got up and had canned tuna as I could not cook anything since my stove is electric. Then, I washed my dishes and went back to bed until 3:00 at which time I decided had better go to school. I put on my army combat boots, my yellow rain jacket (yes Banny, I still have it) and my babushka shawl from Uganda (do you remember that one Rebekah)? I then headed out into the storm to my truck. Sadly, my truck was stuck because of a thick layer of ice that had built up behind the truck. So, I went back to my truck and packed an overnight bag. I stuffed school clothes, a flashlight, a toothbrush and a comb into my bag, then I started off on the 1/4 journey towards the school. I was the only person alive out there. It was toasty in my yellow jacket and my boots seem to be waterproof. I made it to the school and now I am here, in my cozy classroom, preparing to spend the night. Yes, I would rather sleep in my classroom then spend the night on the floor than once again brave those elements! Yes, I should have chose Hawaii.

हीलिंग रैन

It has been a very emotional week having to deal with the combination of my uncle's death and the absolute insanity of Halloween at Little Wound.

First, I should note that I despise Halloween. My family has not celebrated it for years and I have grown to dislike it more and more. The disgusting horror films, the vandalism, the raunchy costumes--it all depresses me. So, when I found out that all of Friday was dedicated to Halloween rather than reading and writing, I was less than excited.

It should come as no surprise then that Friday was one of the longest days of my life. Yes, it was cute to see all the little kids in their costumes, but some of them were dressed in horrifying attire. Seeming my babies dressed as demons and Chucky dolls was disturbing.

They day was absolute chaos. There was a two hour costume contest followed by the candy trail. The school buys hundreds of dollars worth of candy and distributes it to the kid (and we wonder why diabetes in so high). Along the way, the kids enter different parts of the school, some of which have been transformed into "spook houses." The most infamous spook house around is located in the school bus garage. Most of my students refused to go in. A handful decided to brave the journey. It was horrible. I didn't think it was a bit scary, but my children were nearly hysterical with fear--sobbing. It's because of the trashy horror movies they watch. They have unnatural fears of chainsaws, clowns, dolls, etc. Every day items become objects of terror because of movies they watch. I decided then and there that I would never take my children into a spook house again.

By the end of the day, I was worn out. I would rather teach ten hour days than have another chaos-filled day like this last Friday. Therefore, I was in no mood at the end of the day to cater to trick-or-treaters the whole night. Thankfully, my reprieve came in the form of a very sick student of mine. She threw up on the gym floor that day somewhere between the first and second grade costume parade. She went home soon after. However, I took care of her in the evening while the six other children in her family went trick-or-treating. She only threw up on the floor once, so we had a good time. When she left, I spent the rest of the night hiding out waiting for the kids to go home. I returned to my house late that night, surviving my first Kyle Halloween.

Broken

It is amazing how life can nearly rip in two as if time itself has separated. That is what JFK was for our parents generation and 9-11 for mine. But there can also be events--both good and bad that can alter one's life on a more personal level. Perhaps it is the birth of a child, a marriage, a devastating injury. And quite often, I think that this time split occurs with the loss of someone we love.

Late last night, my baby sister told me that we lost our uncle. He had been battling cancer for so long. God had performed so many miracles--he should have been dead long ago, but God kept sparing him. But yesterday, there was no more miracles. Now, I expect you are waiting for me to say that it is okay because he was a passionate believer and now he is at peace. But truth be told, I don't know if that is the case. We had prayed for him for so long and nearly begged him to give his life to the Lord. If he did so, it was something between him and the Lord.

I have always struggled to comfort those who have lost loved ones who do not believe. What hope can I offer them? What hope can I offer my grieving family who does not believe in the Lord? Where was the all-powerful God? To be honest, I don't know.

There are a lot of things I don't know, but there are some things I do know. I know that my uncle was loved by his family. But more than that, I know that he was passionately loved by his Father in Heaven. Even in the midst of one of the most painful moments of my life, I don't doubt the goodness of God. I believe with all of my heart that if my uncle chose not to believe, it was not a result of a lack of love on the part of my Father.

I have wept with survivors of genocide, laughed with former child soldiers, held children born after their mothers were raped. I have seen children so weak with hunger, there very lives faded before me. More than once I have comforted teenagers who were terrified by the fact that they were living with HIV. I have taught students who struggle with missing fathers who have sexually abused them. I have seen so much suffering for being so young. And today, I know what it is like to own that loss. But even in the midst of all of this, I can't doubt the goodness of God. He loves us so passionately. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know that he relentlessly pursues each one of us. He loves us.

"I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that
I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You

Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times
So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings
You glory And I know there'll
be days When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to
praise You Jesus, bring the rain"

My life is yours, dear Father

हाउ तो लोस ब्लॉग रेअदेरस

The number one way to kill a blog is to not update it. I suppose at this point the only people who will continue to follow my journey are my immediate family members—which is alright with me. But I am sorry to those of you who have supported our classroom. You really do deserve better.

So the last few weeks have been tumultuous for me, both personally and professionally. On a personal level, my family has been struggling and interceding for my uncle. He was diagnosed with cancer last year. God brought his unbelieving soul back from the edge of death and through a series of miracles, healed his body of cancer so bad, the doctors gave him less than six months to live. We were all praising God and filled with such joy.

However, last week, we were told that there were complications from his brain surgery that resulted in constant bleeding. The doctors have tried to stop the bleeding—with five different surgeries. After the last one, they sent him home, telling our family there was nothing more they could do. He is currently at home, a shunt in his head to drain the fluid, essentially waiting to die.

But God is God of the impossible. I know without a shadow of a doubt that he can bring him back from the shadow of death into the light of His love. Please, please pray for his healing—first spiritually and then physically. I beseech you, please ask your friends to pray as well. May we be an army of one. Eternity is at stake. Pray for him by name—John Helsel.

Dealing with my uncle’s illness has only compounded the stresses of teaching. The last few weeks, I have seen an increase in bullying throughout the third grade. I had several kids in tears and a few very angry with me. I sent my first kid to ISS (in school suspension), though it was only for ten minutes. She was the girl who is always late. She refused to come in to class. Then, after she did, she sat at her desk and started to work on a fun-page book. When I tried to take it from her, she grabbed it away and refused to give it to me. I told her that she had to move to the reflection desk. When she refused this, I told her that she had a choice between joining the class, the reflection desk or the principal. She did nothing so I had my aide get the principal. Since I didn’t want her gone the whole day, I told my aide to give her a timer and tell her she could come back after ten minutes if she was ready to learn. She came back and the rest of the day was fine.

Our first big unit test in Social Studies is on Wednesday. I am so, so, so nervous. I have made study guides, done review games, called parents, etc. in order to get the kids and their families invested in this test. Please pray for amazing results.

We got a new student in the 3rd grade this week. She is such a crack-up. She is the cousin of one of my absolute favorite students (if favorites were aloud). Her great-aunt is also the principal. Her reading level is extremely low but she is SUCH a crack-up. She is one of the wittiest girls I have ever met. I adore her. However, I can’t imagine how she is going to do on testing material she wasn’t present for.

On Monday, the school’s after school tutoring program officially begins. It is going to be way more work than I thought it was going to be. This could be problematic as I am trying to stay afloat as it is.

The school’s literacy coach, South Dakota Middle School Teacher of the Year and former TFA corps member, is helping me improve my classroom. Her wisdom is so important to me. I really, really value her advice and am thankful for her. I can’t imagine what I would have done without her.

My mom and dad have continued to send huge boxes for our classroom. I have passed out five winter coats—much needed right now. I recently received from them a huge box of winter clothes I am eager to distribute. They also landed some really good books. Our library is doing much better. In fact, one of the students commented the other day “When school started, our library was so small, not it’s getting much bigger!” I think it has really helped to develop a love of reading. In fact, the kids begged for more reading time on Friday—making their total independent reading time equal to 55 minutes of complete silent reading!!

My TFA boss is coming to observe me on Tuesday. I am a bit nervous, but I am trying not to do anything I normally wouldn’t do. I want to be an excellent teacher when he is present or not present. I want him to see me at my worst so he can help me get better.

Well, I had better go as I still have a lot to do tonight.

Please continue to pray for my kids and also my uncle,

So much love,

B

Updates

I cannot describe how busy I have been, so I won't even waste typing energy.

Things have been progressing in Room 170. I am a bit worried that the children are becoming too familiar with me. They have become more bold of late in their statements. I do not want them to think that they can talk back to me. Please pray that I have wisdom in this regard.

As for good news, M was on time the last few days! Praise God! Two days in a row! However, she told me today "I might be late tomorrow." This was a direct threat because I told her that she lost her recess privledge because she had deliberately broke a rule and told another student he would be a tattle-tale if he told me. Her little comment reminded me of how shrewd kids can be.

An update on B. They have decided that his medication is wearing off around 2:00. Therefore, they have decided to send him home around this time. This is, of course, ridiculous. He can't pass if he isn't in class. Please pray that we figure out how to help this kid.

Speaking of helping kids, I met a kid the other night God may use me to help. He came with D, the brother of one of my students--the family I help move after the fire. The boy, P, was "homeschooled" because he failed three times from K-2. He is now about 10 or 11, I would guess. No one is teaching him at home. Instead, he just hangs out. I told him to go and talk to his mom and would take him in my class. I just have this feeling that his future is going to be very bleak if he doesn't get some education. Please pray for him.

Well, I am so tired. I'll give a better update later.

B

P.S. Here is a picture of me in my classroom.

Fire

I just never know what is going to happen on the ‘Ridge. Tonight, I was talking on the phone with my dad (or at least trying to talk with the o-so-sketch-reception) when I heard a knock on my door. My students come by every so often so I thought it was one brave enough to try to get in. Reluctantly, I opened the door to find Dave, a fifth grader and the brother of one of my 3rd graders—not from my home room, though. She is a real sweety and hangs out frequently in my classroom after school with Hannah Montana. She is the one that Hannah Montana called ‘black trash’ during one of their fights.

Anyway, Dave said his grandmother was wondering if they could use my truck as they were in trouble. Something about a fire. I threw my coat on and ran downstairs. I pieced together this story.

Last night, a gentleman was repairing the water heater in their trailer. Suddenly, the water heater exploded creating a flash fire. The force of the explosion was so great that it blew a part of the wall out. There were holes all in the ceiling where the debris had been blasted. The were more smoke than flames, but a fire did start. Dave, being a twelve-year-old boy, foolishly ran back for his x-box. He and his grandmother had to go to Rapid City to be treated for smoke inhalation. She had a heart attack on the way and ended up fighting for her life as her heart rate dropped to around 40. He was given oxygen to treat his smoke inhalation.

As I helped them move some of their valuables to their new apartment, which is conveniently located directly below me, I was numb with shock. Even now, as I regain feeling in my limbs from loading and unloading in the pouring, my mind is still reeling. What if B and her little sister had been there instead of at a Pow-Wow in Rapid? What if they had been seriously hurt? What if they had died?

I am feeling kind of heavy as the smell of smoke clings to my clothes. This place is so frightening at times. Death is no stranger to these people. And I am afraid. I am afraid that one day someone will knock on my door and tell me that one of my students is dead. It could have been B this time.

Thank you Father for protecting those children. Please, please continue to shelter them in the shadow of Your wings.

B

Serves me Right

Today was a rough day, for many reasons. But tonight was probably worse.

I went back to my apartment after school and slept from 4:00 to 8:30. I decided I would do some work in my class and then head to bed. I ended up staying until 11:00. I was in a hurry to get out by that time because it was sweltering hot in my room. I got to my truck only to find...you guessed it--I left my keys in my classroom.

And so, there I was locked out of my truck, apartment, classroom and school at 11:00 at night on a Friday night in Pine Ridge. I pounded and pounded and pounded on security's door but no one answer. Of course, I was wearing a skirt and wimpy shoes. Thankfully, I had a big jacket, but I was still cold. Plus, it was misting so I was getting soggy. My shoes were wet because I stepped into a puddle. I was real cold and getting desperate. My cell phone was dead so I couldn't call anyone. Finally, to shelter myself from the cold, I climbed into the bed of my truck and opened my tool box. I was happy to find a blanket, albeit a paper-thin one, in my box. I proceeded to climb into the tool box and shut the lid.

It was dark in there, like a coffin. It was not bad though. It has carpet on the floor and protected me from the wind. I thought I may have to sleep in there. I couldn't be at peace because I was worried that it might snow tonight, as forecasted. Then, what would happen if I couldn't lift the lid because of too much snow? Also, I was afraid someone might try to steal something from the box and find me inside.

Finally, I remembered that I had my phone charger in my backpack. I jumped out of my box and plugged the phone into the wall outside. I called my older sister and then B for help. I woke her, but being the little angel that she is, she didn't complain. She got online for me and looked up security's number. However, before I could dial, a truck stopped and out popped a security guard who let me in the school. I am now warming up before I leave again.

What a night.

B

The Prodigals

I have three children that I want to introduce you to who really need prayer. I'll start with S.

S, like many/most of my children, comes from a broken home. I actually don't know all of the specifics, but I do know she lives with her grandmother, though her mother lives in town. It is obvious that her family struggles financially.

Of all the students in my classroom, she is my only student who will talk back to me. There is not a single student in my class who would give me the lip she does on occasion. For example, today I told her she did her assignment incorrectly and she immediately got angry and wouldn't take her assignment back. She started whining that she wanted to play and that she already did what she was supposed to do. I looked at her and said, "Are you whining? S, don't give me attitude in this classroom. I am not your mother, I am your teacher."

She is also a habitual liar. Today I told her to spit out her gum. She walked over to the classroom, put her hand to her mouth and gestured towards the trashcan. After sitting back down, I noticed she had stuck her gum behind her upper lip. Annoyed, I told her to throw it away immediately. She likes, "I did." I was really annoyed now and said, "S, you are lying to me. You always do that. Throw it away this instance." She defiantly through it in the trash can. The day before, she was irate with me because I wouldn't let her leave school early to go to the bake sale. She literally stomped her foot in anger.

Academically, S is my lowest performing student. Her reading level is mid-Kindergarten. She really, really struggles. I think the main reason that she does so poorly is that she simply does not pay attention. And she doesn't pay attention because she is utterly exhausted. She goes to bed at 11:00 because she is watching T.V. Her eyes water every day because she is so exhausted. She constantly is responding to my questions with a "huh." And unlike every other girl in my class and most boys, she doesn't like me to hug her.

S has a lot of pain, I can clearly see that. And I know that she likes my class, at least to a degree. She tells me that she loves me when she makes me notes. She also brought me a snow globe the other day. But there remains these challenges.

Finally, I would bet a large amount of money that S has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. She displays many of the signs and symptoms. I am trying to decide if I should refer her to Special Ed. Please pray with me about S.

The second child that is challenging me is named M. Her story is really tragic. Her father was incarcerated when she was a baby and her mother hates her. M's grandmother told me that M's mom got very sick and almost died giving birth to her. She therefore despised the baby for putting her in danger. M has other siblings but her mom likes them. Some actually live with her. But M is treated like the outcast and has been beaten by her mom. She now lives with her grandmother and cares for her younger brother and sister.

M's family is obviously very poor. She has a constant chest cold and the clothes she wears remind me of the children of Botswana, Rwanda and Uganda. She comes to school so dirty sometimes that I have taken her into the hallway and literally wiped her down. She is also considerably overweight and has been teased about it in the past.

Socially, it seems that M doesn't have any friends. I can see that she feels like an outsider. I feel bad because she is constantly breaking the rules and the class gets impatient with her. Her form of defiance is ignoring me. When I tell her to put her pencil down, she will still write for another minute. But most bothersome is the fact that she is late every single day--and I mean every day. She has probably been on time twice since the year began. She not because she arrives at school late but because she dawdles at the school breakfast. I have to go get her nearly every day. I told her that I had had enough. I have conferenced with her grandmother and rebuked her several times. Every morning I ask why she is late and she has some other excuse.

Yesterday, after being late for the millionth time, I told her she had to sit at the reflection desk and explaining in writing why she was late and what she would do tomorrow to arrive on time. This is what she wrote,

"I will wake up early and I will come to school and go to breakfast and I will come to class early. I will come to school at 7:00 and at 8:00 to. I promass miss Brendsesl that I will come to school early because I love you miss Brendsel so, so much." ha

I fully expected this to rectify the situation. I was wrong. Today, I found her at breakfast messing around with her brother. I said, "M--- M---, get to class right now." Normally I walk with her but today I didn't wait. I returned to class and honestly forgot about her. About twenty minutes later, my aide comes in and tells me M is hiding in the hallway and ran away when he confronted her. I had to leave the class, which I was instructing and talk to her in the hallway. I told her that she could either sit at the reflection desk or in the office. She refused to move. Fed up, I told her that she had better move now or I was getting someone to move her. She knows that I have no power because I can't physically touch her. I had to go get the security officer who apparently can't touch her either. My principal was gone so I couldn't call her. She finally went with an aide and was taken to the acting principal. She was back in less than five minutes. I was so upset. When she came back, she just sat at her desk and refused to move or join the class on the carpet. I largely ignored her behavior for most of the day. At one point, she joined in with the class and I called on her, acting if nothing had happened.

When we were going to the library, she beamed up at me and said, "Do you know why I am being good. Cause it makes my grandma happy." I was speechless. We went to the library without incident. However, as we were leaving, I heard the librarian say "M, are you hiding back here?" I turned around, shocked to find M was hiding in the book stacks. With 17 kids, I simply didn't notice. I again was not happy and was thoroughly mortified. She returned to class with us and almost made the kids miss the buses (they had to run) because she was taking so long to follow my directions.

Please, please, pray for M and for me. I love her very deeply. She has a smile that will melt your heart and I feel so bad about her being unwanted. She has asked me if she could live with me and has told me that she wishes I were her mom. She normally does very well in my class aside from the fact that is slow to follow my directions and that she is late to class. She just needs a lot of prayer, as do I.

The child is a boy, though he is not in my class. His name is B. He was one of the first kids I noticed when I began to teach here. He just looks like trouble. He walks with a swagger and just breaks every rule imaginable. Someone is always scolding him. So I was very pleased to find that when he finally came to my class, he and I have gotten along very well. He participates and really seems to try to stay on task--with more success at time than at others. He misses class a lot--a whole lot, and he has performed very low in academics in the past. But we get along real well. He rides his bike very where and I ride mind, so we have that bond. He even gives me hugs some time.

But B has problems. He has explosive anger issues. Just yesterday, he went up to his teacher and said, "I am getting angry.!" He wouldn't tell his teacher why---just stormed out. He began pounding his head against the mat on the gym wall. The counselor tried to restrain him to keep him from hurting himself. He flailed and bit her. He then ran into the hallway and pulled the plug of a blow-up Frankenstein out of the wall which sent sparks flying. When a teacher came out, he screamed in rage "Get away you black F-ing, B-! The kids is eight years old. He then took another Halloween item and through it across the wall.

This was not the first time B has gone on a rampage. The odd thing is, I have never seen it. His mom doesn't know what to do. When he was a little boy, he suffered head trauma as a result of a brain injury. Doctors say that it has influenced his ability to cope with his anger. Personally, I think that this issue is demonic and I am serious. Yesterday, when he went into the rage, his lower jaw was quivering uncontrollably and he told the principal that "Some thing's happening!" I honestly think that something spiritual happens when he goes into these spells.

I ask that you would pray for deliverance for this child. I pray that if I ever encounter this sort of violent anger, that the light would pierce the darkness.

Please pray for all my children. They have so many needs.

Love,

B