Pure Manaʻo

  Author's Note: This is going to be about how I got into teaching as a 3rd generation teacher. I guess I was fighting being a teacher, but my experiences outside of teaching led me to the fact that teaching was always going to be the choice. I have not regretted the acceptance of my role in the 30 plus years that Iʻve been doing this.   At 17, I was a pig hunter for the Hawaiʻi Volcanoes National Park. Well, actually, I was a pig trapper, pig radio collar "hunter," bait girl, pig mama. I did not accompany the hunters and scientists with a gun, knife, rope. Just me and my green rubber boots, Leviʻs 501 button downs, and my favorite purple and pink Izod shirt.  On the day that one of my snares caught and killed a pig, my title changed to forensic science assistant. At 17, the title made me important enough to drive the official national park F150, pick up the police forensics guy at Kilauea Military camp at 7 am, open the evacuation locks, trek him through the rain forest ...

  Author's Note: I'm not sure what the story will be. I ended my first independent writing time with the first two lines and perhaps an idea that I would be writing about the things I lost in the fire, or maybe things I gained from the fire.  After the daily conversation about the prompt with teachers talking about events like 9/11 and Columbine, it seems to be the beginning of  a connection with some national/international shared traumas and how that linked to my own life and also shifted at that moment how I choose to live life. I am letting this just reveal itself so any feedback is welcome as I try to see what sticks.  6/5/24 On the night Lahaina burned, August 8, 2023, Tuesday, I dreamt about my great grandfather's church burning as if I was somehow in the graveyard looking toward Lahainaluna Road only to wake up to the photo of the Waiola Church social hall burning. Not a dream, more like a portal that opened up, or my spirit traveling to say goodbye one last t...

  6/4/24 Anna's last day was Friday, May 31, 2024 She collected all of her gifts and notes from her students Took pictures with her seniors who she had as freshmen four years ago Turned in her keys and walked away from her Georgia classroom made up of predominantly  black and brown students  who needed her to stay. She is not (really) leaving because of the constant shift of politics/policies/procedures of her school district She survived that. She is not (really) leaving because she suddenly lost her colleague and mentor last year, her marigold. She survived that. She is not (really) leaving because of the overwhelming needs of her students  Who continue to need her even after they have left her class.  She did this tearfully because she was both too empty and too full to stay another year. She is going to graduate school for counseling in the fall Her next dream is to do horse therapy for children and young adults. She sees this as a failure on her part. ...