As the teachers here ramp up for the new school year beginning on Thursday, we mourn the loss of 5 of our colleagues who were given their pink slips just last week. Due to budget cuts, our staff had to be reduced before fiscal year 2011 to begin in October, which necessitated the termination of 5 teachers right before the school year is to begin. In addition, the remaining teachers were asked to move their classrooms, so that all classes could take place in one building instead of our former 2 buildings, so it’s been a very hectic weekend and start to the week. I witnessed more than one tear being shed today, and I personally shed more than most. I just couldn’t seem to stop the flow. I am hurting for my friends who will not be teaching with me this year, for the changes in our school system, for the uncertain future as many more cuts across all departments on the base are coming sooner rather than later, and for the stress and anxiety this brings to all of us in a place that is so desirable to live because of its usual relaxed, low stress environment.
It’s not that the transition here is new. We’ve been experiencing a decrease in island budget, population, and quality of life services for several years now, but when the big cuts come all of a sudden and to those we work so closely with, it’s still hard to swallow. It’s one of those, “we knew it could happen, but now that it has we can’t believe it” kind of scenarios. Everyone goes through this type of situations at some point in their lives, and even though we live on an atoll isolated from the “real world” as we refer to it, and it seems sometimes that we still live in the “Leave it to Beaver” and “Brady Bunch” worlds of safety and good feelings where our kids and marriages are all well adjusted and happy, a tough day like today brings us right back to reality.
Life is fragile and can change in an instant, just like the lives of the clams at Sand Island, which could be snuffed out by another freak storm surge churning up the waters despite our best efforts to protect them. Life changes quickly, and we are not in control just as the ocean is constantly stirring itself up and exerting its power over us and our world through horrific natural disasters beyond our ability to quell. Nature mimics life in so many ways or maybe our lives mimic nature. Either way, living on an atoll is living very close to nature. It doesn’t make the trials of life disappear or even make them any easier, but just as nature can destroy; it also regenerates and creates new life every day. We can learn from this to simply be patient and wait, wait for nature to renew itself, wait for the storms to subside and for the sunshine and rainbows to appear. And they will appear again, maybe at the most surprising time, and we’ll settle into life again and find our rhythm, just as the ocean goes back to its natural rhythm after the storm surges cease. Keep your chin up for those of you struggling with a loss today. New life will be born out of the ashes of what’s been lost, and our “soil” will be that much richer because of these character building experiences.
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