Most of us can hear something right now– I can hear traffic and the vacuum cleaner. And my dog getting annoyed at the vacuum cleaner.
Pineapple and coffee field at Gisuru School for the Deaf
In the United States, about 3% of the population is deaf. Many hearing-impaired people identify with Deaf culture and belong to a close-knit Deaf community.
But Burundi doesn’t have a thriving Deaf community. In fact, most people don’t have access to sign language, much less other accommodations.
This is a big problem, since deafness is common in the country. Many Burundians are born Deaf, while others become Deaf from improper administration of medicine or through illness.
Ben with a huge mural of Burundi. Gisuru School for the Deaf is in the eastern Ruyigi region.
To address this, Ben’s father and grandfather established the country’s first Deaf school in Bujumbura decades ago.
Kirundi word of the day: Ishuli (school).
But what about those in rural areas? What about those too far from Bujumbura?
Me with one of the social studies murals on the cafeteria walls. Can you find Burundi on the map?
My brother-in-law Danny moved far out into the hills to start another Deaf school on the opposite side of Burundi. We were able to tour the boarding school during the summer break and meet a few students.
He looks a bit uncomfortable in the photo, but in real life he was super excited to have his photo taken and signed that it was “Beautiful, BEAUTIFUL!”
Ben and I with the student we sponsor and his father. The traveled an hour to meet us and we were so thankful!
Meeting this student was amazing! We have been praying for this boy for five years and have had his photo on our fridge and have received drawings from him, and later letters when he learned to communicate. Now we got to see he and his father in person!
Students learn to cook in this kitchen at Gisuru School for the Deaf.
American Sign Language is derived from French sign language. I learned ASL in college and the two languages are close enough that I could have a conversation with this student as well as others we met during our time in Gisuru.
You can read more about that –and about Gisuru School for the Deaf– on World Footprints.
It’s that time of year…. you know, when all the moms are posting cute photos of their kids holding Pinteresty signs announcing what grade they are about to begin. Not to be outdone, I was sure to take a photo of my (very cooperative) husband on his first day of med school year four:
Folks, this is the last first day of school for him. Ever. Twenty-plus years of school is enough. Next year, I’ll have him post for a “first day of work as a doctor” photo. But I probably won’t ask him to hold a sign.
I decided to find his other “first day of school” photos. I took them every year, usually chasing him out the door at the last minute because I just remembered I wanted a picture. His first year of medical school, we actually got a pretty nice photo for the first day of school, which was his white coat ceremony:
I’m not positive which photo is the “first day” photo from med school year 2, but here’s a photo from that year:
You can see Kito is enjoying her favorite perch, which is always behind Ben in whatever chair he happens to be sitting in.
Here’s last year, the third year of medical school, with his white coat freshly ironed on his way to his first family medicine rotation at the clinic:
And, of course, I can’t forget to do a throwback to his first day of college. This picture is provided by his Aunt Barb, who dropped him off at school not long after he arrived in Arizona from Tanzania.
Hard to believe that was almost ten years ago, in 2009!
So, what does 20th grade look like for Ben? Well, for the first four weeks, he has a subinternship rotation in internal medicine. He works 60-some hours a week over six days. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty sad to lose that Saturday with him. BUT- they aren’t requiring any overnight on-call shifts, so that is a major benefit. He doesn’t get “paternity leave,” since he’s a student, but fortunately he can take a couple of days when the baby is born. I’m hoping the baby decides to make his grand debut on one of Ben’s days off. Baby is due September 26, during his last week on this rotation, We’ll see if he comes on time or early. Or late– who knows?
After that, we’re not sure what Ben’s schedule will be. I figure that all of the rotations will probably be pretty intense, but at this point it’s just about getting through everything until April, when he’ll finish his last rotation. He just took the 9-hour USMLE Step 2 exam two weeks ago, which means no massive exams to study for this year! Phew!
After so much school, it’s hard to believe Ben’s almost done. It will be pretty weird to have neither of us in school for the first time ever! But it will also be pretty awesome.
Well, I’m probably over-posting on Facebook about Hurricane Irma and the devastation it caused in Saint Martin. I have an awful lot to say about it, though, especially as new updates keep coming through. I figure if you want to know what I have to say about the situation, you’ll read this. And look– here you are!
Med Students are OK
After a semi-sleepless night a couple days ago and plenty of tears, I finally started hearing from friends who had been out of contact for a day after the storm.
The people who sheltered in American University of the Caribbean are safe, and not only that, anyone with any medical training (even first semester med students) are volunteering in a makeshift clinic! They even delivered a baby! What a birth story.
Many of the students, spouses and kids were able to evacuate to Puerto Rico. Many others, mostly students, stayed behind.
Tom and Lisa are OK
If you follow me on social media, you probably know a bit about Tom and Lisa Burnett, who ran Player Development Program in Sint Maarten.
I used to go there most days to tutor and mentor the kids. Player Development blew away and the pieces are yet to be found.
But Tom and Lisa (plus their four dogs) are safe! I could breathe easier after I found that out. Their neighborhood was hit very hard.
They survived the storm huddled on a mattress under their table, both of them plus of the four dogs. They stayed there all day, through the storm and even after their roof was ripped off. I am shaking right now just thinking about it.
Still Waiting to Hear from Local Friends
I started following more SXM residents on social media to keep up with videos and photos. Many people seem to be OK and in shelter, but strictly rationing food and water, and in perhaps in pain.
The need help but it is hard to know what to do. Samaritan’s Purse has a fund now, and I they are delivering much needed help! If you want to help, give to them. But I haven’t heard much else, although a friend of mine with a Canadian Rotary Club is planning to try to ship down supplies and suggested that I call my local airport to see which airlines are willing to ship relief supplies down.
I haven’t heard from too many people since the main cell tower was taken out by the storm, and the power company as well, I believe.
I just keep thinking about how bad I’ve been at communication lately. My life is so out of control right now and I put everyone else on the back burner. I guess you don’t realize you’re doing that until your friends are in a life-threatening situation and you remember that the last thing you said was some stupid thing about doughnuts or worse, nothing at all for the past few weeks.
There’s nothing like the fear that you might have lost someone to make you think of all the stuff you wish you said to them last week.
I’m Grieving
I think I’m going through the stages of grief. I’m partially in denial, because how can those photos be real when they don’t match my memories? That flooded street covered in debris was a sunlit lane when I walked down it just a few months ago.
I can close my eyes and go back to the way it was. I can see and hear and feel and smell every part of the island.
I can hear the way it sounds to knock on the door of one of my baseball kid’s house. In my mind it is still there.
I can feel the gravel at player development under my feet and see the books and toys and everything.
I can see the view from my old balcony like I am standing there again. Pretty sure that balcony blew away.
I can taste the shawarmas at Little Jerusalem and hear the “clink, clink” of Abe and Cathy chopping up meat on the grill.
But then there are those photos of the destruction, the videos of the looting. It’s hard to reconcile.
I Should Be There
And there is this overwhelming sense of guilt, because somehow I feel like I am supposed to be there.
Maybe I wouldn’t be saying this if I’d actually gone through it, but I’d rather have stuck out the day in AUC, where the hurricane shelter was strong and safe, than be here wondering and waiting and watching from afar.
I’d rather be out dragging palm fronds off the street right now. Or something else useful. Maybe that sounds dumb, and maybe it is dumb.
It’s stupid to want to be stuck on an island when so many people are suffering and desperately awaiting help and wanting to leave.
I feel stupid. And useless.
People reading this are probably going to think I’m trying to be some kind of weird martyr or something, but I think I’m just really emotional and stressed out.
I actually called Jet Blue yesterday to find out if I can fly down and when, but I couldn’t get through because they’re too busy handling the crisis.
I don’t even know what I would do if I did go. It’s not like they need more people to use up rations, anyway.
So anyway, now we’re both depressed, you’re welcome. Maybe I should go back to journaling instead of blogging.
That’s what things look like from my perspective.
Now just waiting for Irma to hit Florida, and I can’t wait until that is done and the power is back and I can hear from everyone.
There are times in life for sunrises and other times for sunsets. Maybe that’s why I feel a little nostalgic and sad every time I watch the sun set these days. Each time the sun dips below the Caribbean Sea, there is one less ocean sunset to watch from our balcony in paradise and one less day to live here. We have about a month left in our island home, which makes me wish I could slow down the time and enjoy every nanosecond of it. However, every sunset brings good memories and the promise of another sunrise.
Ben is nearing the end of his medical sciences studies at American University of the Caribbean. He still has two more years of medical school to finish in the States, but our two years in Sint Maarten are almost up. In fact, he takes the comprehensive exam in two days! Everything he has learned in the last two years will be covered in this test. Needless to say, he’s off somewhere in the library right now, studying hard about Crohn’s Disease and enzyme deficiencies and other riveting topics. I helped him study last night and the amount of information he knows just blows my mind.
Ben has had a successful run during his time at American University of the Caribbean. Pardon my bragging for a minute! He made the dean’s list every semester, and earned a spot in the honor and service society for his high grades and his hundreds of hours of community service.
Now, as all of this comes to a close– the honors, the volunteering, the prayers, the TA commitments, and tutoring, the hours and hours of studying and the late nights in the books– it’s easy to look ahead and be overwhelmed by everything that is still to come. After all, he has the comprehensive exam, and then we move back to Arizona. In June he has to take his first licensing exam. Then we’ll get assigned to clinical rotations somewhere in the United States and have to start over again somewhere new. After two more years of student loans and loads of work, there’s two or three more big exams and finally, finally he’ll graduate and become a medical doctor.
I think it’s better, though, to look backwards for just a moment and appreciate how far we’ve come. There’s been a lot to overcome, and making it this far is not guaranteed. Yet here we are! I’m so thankful for the time we’ve had here. I’m thankful for the friends we have made, the people who have supported us, the hard work that Ben’s put in, and the grace God has given us to not only make it, but have an awesome experience while we’re at it. I’m thankful that we have thrived and not just survived. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been fantastic.
The best kinds of evening are the ones when I can look back on the day and say, wow, that was a productive day, and it was a fun one, too. That’s how I feel about our time here. As the sun sets on this season of life, I can look back and appreciate everything that has happened. It’s been a blast, and it’s also been worthwhile. If we could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
An open letter to the Saint Martin Department of Education and the government of Saint Martin:
For a year now, I’ve been working with Tom Burnett and the Player Development Program to mentor and tutor at-risk youth. We’ve seen heartbreaking situations, but none quite so awful as this week’s case. One of our teens got in a fight at school and is being sent back to prison—again. His first offense? Stealing food when his mom abandoned him and he was left homeless. This gave him a year, and the crime of having no family to speak of caused him to be detained a second year. Now, he is facing more time. I am advocating for this teen and asking you to reexamine his case.
As a community, it is our job as the people of Saint Martin to help our at-risk youth survive difficult childhoods and become capable adults. That is why I and the Player Development staff have been working so hard with this teen. We are teaching him to read, we are teaching him social skills, and we are teaching him responsibility. If he goes back to prison, we lose our chance to redirect his life.
I understand that physical aggression is wrong. But so is sending a child to prison and destroying his hope of a future. Prison has done nothing to help him with aggression. If anything, it has made the problem worse. Reform school has also taught him very little. Just last week, I sat across the table from him and coached him as he struggled to read the word “up.” If this child goes back to prison, he will come out illiterate, with no education, no connections, no support system and no skills. What is his future? Selling illegal drugs? Joining a gang? Going in and out of prison his whole life? If he goes back, his fate is sealed.
However, there is another way. We are dedicated to this child and his future. We are dedicated to mentoring and shaping his character as well as his intellectual mind. If he is kept out of prison and allowed to remain with the Player Development Program, we can give him the tools he needs. First of all, we can address his aggression. Two of our staff are certified Anger Replacement Training (ART) coaches. We have had many kids go through our program and were already planning for this teen to join our class this fall. Secondly, we can teach him to read and do math. These things are necessary skills, and while he has never learned them in school or in reform school, he has actually been improving in our program. Our records show that our kids progress an entire school year in reading every three to four months. One-on-one tutoring makes a difference. Third, we will teach him responsibility and social skills. Already we have seen improvement in this area. I took this teen to the zoo last week. He was extremely respectful and helpful with the younger children. He saved my sanity! He also volunteered to help out the zookeeper with some of the day’s tasks, which was much appreciated. At our program, he is constantly helping the younger kids with their baseball skills and assisting Tom Burnett with things that need to get done. He is respectful at all times and we have never had a problem with him.
I see a lot of potential in this teen. I am confident that if he can stay in our program, and be surrounded by a support network that believes in him, this child can learn to make good decisions and become a responsible, independent citizen of Sint Maarten. I take personal responsibility for my part in teaching him social skills, reading, and responsibility. Please reconsider sending him back to reform school. He has been let down by everyone else in his life, and he deserves so much better.
Sincerely and resepctfully,
Breana Johnson
Well, my master’s classes are in full swing and I’m not exactly off to a fabulous start. Admitting that is hard for me, because I’m a type-A personality who had a 4.0 GPA in undergrad. People warned me that taking online classes can be a lot harder than actually going to class unless you’re extremely organized and on top of things. Generally, I am. But I’m a lot better with paper and pens than I am with a double-password access online classroom with instructions in electronic format in a few different places. Find the library on campus? No problem. Find the library online? Well, now. That is a different story.
So here I am, looking at ten articles that I have to read and use to write a discussion paper and post online for the class to read by… well, by last Sunday. I guess tomorrow’s deadline for the unit meant the unit closes then for further discussion, not that the reflection is due then. That is something really I wish I figured out before today. I guess now that I know, I won’t be making that mistake again.
I’m sitting here with my pen and paper, feeling a little discouraged about my abilities to pull this off. School has always been my strength, and now I don’t feel so sure that I can be good at this online school thing. Besides, everyone else in my cohort has a lot more experience than I do. And let’s not fail to mention the fact that this is University of London, and I’m American. Will I be able to remember to spell “analyzing” as “analysing” with an “s?” Or put my quote marks on the inside of my punctuation? Am I supposed to do ‘ or ” for quotes? Will I get marked down for spelling things American-style?
In the middle of this stream of self-doubt, an image breaks in:
These kids are so inspiring. Every afternoon, they come from Dutch, French, and English schools to Player Development Program for further help with reading and math. It’s really hard for a lot of them. Being bilingual or trilingual makes learning to read really, really tough. Some of them are in sixth grade and struggle to read very basic English kid’s books. But they don’t give up, they don’t let embarrassment stop them, and they keep pushing to get better and work up from where they are.
I’ve seen Spanish-speaking kids learn English in two months. I’ve seen kids who struggle with reading and writing spend as long as needed to compose a thank-you letter. I’ve seen kids sit, study, and sound out long words in until they could read the whole book.
To me, writing a short summary of Curious George is not hard. Reading 16 pages doesn’t drain me. Conjugating and pronouncing verbs takes no mental energy. But it does for them, and I would say that they have to work a lot harder to get it right than I’ll have to for my master’s degree. Does it discourage them? Sometimes. Does it deter them? No, it doesn’t.
If a seven-year-old can learn to distinguish vowel names and sounds in French, English, and Spanish, I can learn to use “s” and “u” the British way. If a twelve-year-old can have the courage to learn English as he goes during baseball practice, I can have the courage to post my late work where everyone can see, have a positive, non-defeatist attitude, and do better next time. If a nine-year old can have the humility to do sight-word flash cards in front of his friends, then I can have the humility to admit I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m willing to do what it takes to improve.
You know, the kids at SXM Player Development Program think that they’re learning a lot from me. I guess they are. But I think I’m actually learning more from them. God knew what he was doing when he put me into their world. There’s a lot of determination, courage, and hard work going on at those blue picnic tables. There’s a lot to be inspired and encouraged by. There’s a lot to look at and think, “that’s how I want to be.” I know that if they can work hard and never throw in the towel, so can I.
So I’m going to wipe away these tears of frustration, go back to that online library, and find that PDF e-book that’s hiding from me. I’m going to write my best paper, and I’m going to turn it in even if everyone can see that I’m late. And tomorrow, I’m going to do better. And I’m going to do it with those kids as my inspiration and my encouragement.
