Big Spiders and Big Hearts

This morning was my favorite kind of morning to wake up to: coconut trees blowing in the breeze with a backdrop of puffy, grey, overcast clouds. It started drizzling quietly as I boiled water and poured in oats to make a large pot of oatmeal for breakfast. Methodically stirring the mixture, I listened to the quiet sound of rain, meditative and melodic. I allowed myself to breathe and prepare for the day. Stir the oats, pray, stir the oats, pray, stir the oats, pray. 

Teaching 28 little 6-year-olds 7 hours a day doesn’t leave much time for meditative stillness. Most times, it’s “teacher! teacher!” every thirty seconds, but we’re working on raising our hands and not talking over classmates. We have little moments of magic everyday in the classroom though, even though most moments are more chaotic and less magical. We’re working on establishing a routine, and I’m giving myself plenty of grace. My favorite moment is normally when we read a story during our Morning Message/Meeting time. Students love hearing stories, and looking out at 28 faces with eyes glued to the page makes my heart happy. For those few moments, all students are quiet, focused, and engaged. 

Besides reading, the highlight of today was teaching a few of my students how to play tic-tac-toe. You’d have thought I taught them something magical and complicated by how enthusiastically they played the simple game. Duck, duck, goose was a hit last week, so now I’m scouring my brain for other simple games I can teach them.

But back to the title of this post: big spiders and big hearts. The day was over and I was planning/organizing as students filtered in and chatted. I moved a bucket and all of a sudden saw a huge spider the size of my palm and screamed at the top of my lungs. And, of course, at that very same moment a parent came in to talk to me. Not my most professional moment, by any means, but I had to laugh. Later I stared down the spider and played Sara Bareilles’ Brave as I tried to work up the courage to kill it. I’d been staring down the spider for a good 5 minutes when one of my little boys came in and volunteered to do the deed. I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘Emily, you’re 22-years-old. You did not let a 6-year-old kill your spider.’ I did. I was really scared and Ryhu oozed confidence in a very nonchalant way. I gave him a science book and told him to have at it. While he didn’t kill the spider, he gave it his best effort, and that was rewarded with a sticker. The spider scurried away to some undisclosed location, so we’ll see if it comes back to fight with me tomorrow. I'll be ready.

But for today, I am thankful for the ability to laugh at myself and the crazy situations I encounter here. I am thankful for rainy weather, quiet mornings, and the huge, generous hearts of the Pohnpeians I am getting to know.