Some pictures

Uploaded four albums (speed!). In order, it's the Upward Bound banquet, the MIHS senior class banquet, graduation, and Arno.

Emoj

It's finished.

My plane leaves in three hours and I will leave the Marshall Islands after 3 years. Everything I want to say I've hopefully already said at this point, so I'll leave it at that. I'll update this blog a few times when I get back home, mainly with some pictures. Thanks to everyone who's kept up with me these past 3 years.

Faculty address

Good morning and welcome to our distinguished guests, coworkers, friends, and family. Thank you for attending Marshall Islands High School’s 44th Commencement services.

To deliver a speech in this position is never easy. Therefore, in honor of being asked to deliver the faculty address, I have decided to teach one last lesson to our graduating seniors before I no longer have the privilege of teaching them any more. And in the spirit of the Marshall Islands, I will begin by telling a story.

Twenty-one years ago, a woman named Li Xiaowei made an impossible decision; she chose to leave the comforts of her native homeland so that her child could have opportunities in his life that she never had in hers. She left China and went to America. In her right pocket she had a slip of paper with a phone number written on it. In her left pocket she had her entire life savings, a twenty dollar bill. When she arrived in America, she called the phone number in her right pocket and was given directions to an apartment. With the twenty dollars in her left pocket, she transported herself to the apartment where she found a sleeping mat, and nothing else. At the age of 32, Li Xiaowei’s life had begun for a second time.

One year later, Li Xiaowei was joined by her five year old son, Li Ruochen. Li Ruochen began first grade in America armed with the only English word he knew, “bathroom.” He came home crying the first day because his classmates made fun of his name. That night, Li Xiaowei gave her son an American sounding name, Richard. And, because family names in America come after given names, she switched the order of her son’s name. Li Ruochen became Richard Li.

Because I didn’t speak English I was very quiet and shy in class. I never asked questions or answered when called upon. My teachers quickly concluded that there must be something wrong with me and placed me in special ed. As I grew older, and graduated from special ed., I became more aware that I was different from everyone else. I looked different. My hair was different. My skin color was different. My customs were different. The food I ate was different. My mom was different. She spoke a different language. She wore different clothes. When I watched TV, no one looked like me or my mom. No one spoke our language. No one had our customs. It did not take long for me to believe that my first grade teachers were correct; there must be something wrong with me because no one else was like me.

Afterwards, I tried as hard as I could to be like everyone else. I wore their clothes. I ate their food. I even colored my hair. And I never ever let anyone meet my mom. I never told her when PTA meetings were. I never invited my friends to my house. I was ashamed of her, of her customs, of her clothes, of the way she spoke English. I was so ashamed of her that I even made fun of her. This was how I felt, and I felt this way every single day, until the day I graduated from college.

That night, Li Xiaowei and Richard Li were eating dinner celebrating his graduation. I felt the same way I always did when I was around my mom, embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted that dinner to end so badly because I didn’t want to be seen with my mom, and her clothes, and her customs, and her language. However, this night would end differently, because my mom told me a story, a story that she had never told me before. She told me about twenty-one years ago. She told me about the phone number in her right pocket. She told me about the twenty dollars in her left pocket. She told me about the sleeping mat and nothing else. And then she told me 3,000 stories just like those. And she told me that all those stories existed, that she put her entire life savings in her left pocket, just so I could have dinner with her that night, with my American college diploma in my left pocket.

At that moment, I again felt embarrassed and ashamed, but not of my mom; I felt ashamed of myself. I felt ashamed that I ever thought there was something wrong with this woman in front of me, this wonderful, remarkable, miraculous woman. I felt ashamed that I ever thought there was something wrong with anything connected with this woman, especially myself. This woman gave me life, so how could there be anything wrong with me? There was nothing wrong with my hair, my skin color, my customs, my language, for they all came from her. For the first time in my life, I no longer wanted to be anything else, because I understood that nothing else could be as good as what my mom gave to me.

Three years ago, I began teaching at Marshall Islands High School. I taught English to sophomores, now the 161 students you see in front of you. One of my best students was a girl named Amy. One day she wrote a story about the first time she met a ripelle. Amy elegantly described the ripelle woman’s beautiful hair, her light skin, and the language she spoke. It was a brilliantly composed story, clear and clever. Then I reached the end, and Amy’s last sentence took my breath away. There, she had written, “I wish I were a ripelle.”

What Amy had written about the ripelle woman was not simply what she observed, it was what she wanted to be. I was stunned, motionless, thoughtless. I wanted to scream, but no voice came. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. I wanted to forget, but no strength came. Instead, all of my energy was dedicated to the realization that I knew exactly how Amy felt, and why she felt that way. I knew why Amy wanted to be something else. And I knew that if Amy felt this way, many of her classmates probably did as well, and still do. My students are hurting. I see the hurt as I read their essays about themselves and where they come from. I hear the hurt as they talk about themselves and the people around them. They are hurting in the same way that I had hurt, the kind of hurt you only feel when you’re convinced that who you are, is not good enough.

Therefore, I need to say something right now. I need to tell you, Amy’s classmates, one last thing before you stop being my students. It is something I wish someone would have told me a long time ago. This is my last lesson to you, and don’t you dare forget it:

Class of 2008, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Everything about you is beautiful. Your hair is beautiful. Your skin color is beautiful. Your culture is beautiful. Your customs are beautiful. Your language is beautiful. There is nothing wrong with you. In fact, everything about you is just right. If you don’t believe me just look at the people who have come here today. They are your parents, grandparents, aunties, and uncles. Do you even know how beautiful they are? What are their stories? What is in their pockets? Ask them. Discover their beauty. Their beauty is your beauty. And once you know how beautiful they are, how beautiful you are, you’ll understand that no one on Earth is as beautiful as you.

Students, you don’t have to change yourself for anybody. You don’t have to compare yourself to anybody. And you certainly don’t have to be like anybody else. In fact, everybody else should have to be a little more like you.

God made you look the way you do. God gave you the language you speak. God made you act the way you do, think the way you do, and be the way you are. You are not the same as everyone else, and what’s wrong with that? There is no shame in that, there is only pride in being God’s unique creation. Be proud that no one looks like you or speaks your language. I know that it can be difficult, because you see things on TV and hear things from people that make you believe there’s something wrong with being the way you are. Don’t believe them. Don’t ever believe them. They’re just first grade teachers who don’t know anything. They don’t know your stories. They don’t know what’s in your pockets. They don’t know that the shy kid with the funny name who they placed in special ed will graduate from college and spend three years teaching the most beautiful people in the world.

Soon, you will march out. You will march out of the gym, into the field, into the workforce, into college, and into the world. And when you do, I want you to march in the only way that befits people of your grace, strength, and promise -- with your chest towards the horizon, your chin towards the sky, and your eyes towards the future.

So explore. Discover. Go. Find all that there is to find. But wherever you are, always remember who you are and where you came from, for these are the sources of your power. So explore with courage, but return with pride. Discover with ambition, but come back with humility. Go to learn, but do not learn to forget just how beautiful you really are.

As for me, I will be leaving as well, as others have done before me. However, I always found it strange that, when a lot of those people left I heard them say that they committed themselves, dedicated themselves, or even sacrificed themselves to be here with you. Please excuse my language, but that’s the biggest load of crap I have ever heard. Committed, dedicated, sacrificed – these words suggest that there’s something else, something better, that these people could have done with their time, that somehow, you were lucky to have them. Nothing could be further from the truth. You were not lucky to have them. They were lucky to have you. You do not have to be thankful because they entered your lives. They should be thankful because you let them enter your lives. And anyone who comes here, and thinks differently, does not deserve you.

Class of 2008, these past three years, there is nowhere better I could have been, than right here. And there is no one better I could have been with, than you. I am so lucky to have had you. And I am so thankful that you let me into your lives. You are beautiful. I love you. I congratulate you. And God bless you.

Class dismissed

On Wednesday I taught my last class ever in the Marshall Islands. It was actually severely anti-climactic because at the time I didn’t even know it would be my last class. The last day of finals were supposed to be on Friday, but since we switched to half-day schedules for finals my last day was supposed to be on Thursday, for I did not teach during the periods that took their finals on Friday. I didn’t have anything special planned, but for sentimentality purposes I had planned to “soak in” that final class a little bit more than the others, maybe remember some faces and the little things that I’ve really enjoyed about being in a Marshallese classroom for three years.
However, it was not meant to be because I was put on emergency assembly duty on Thursday due to the absence of a two teachers, forcing me to take my classes to the assembly as opposed to teaching them. I was a little bummed that I didn’t get to relish my last teaching responsibilities here, almost like watching a good movie with a sudden and abbreviated ending. Nevertheless, the rest of the movie was pretty good, so in the end I guess I didn’t lose much.

Upward Bound also ended this week. I taught there for two years, but the commitment was obviously nothing like the commitment to Marshall Islands High School. Still, working at Upward Bound gave me the opportunity to teach students not at Marshall Islands High School, primarily private high school students. In addition, because it’s an after school program, the students who put forth the effort every day to attend and work hard really inspired me. In any situation, regardless of how bleak it may seem, there are always dedicated individuals who want to make things better. Upward Bound’s graduation is tonight, and one of the private schools that my Upward Bound students attend has its graduation tomorrow. I’ll be attending both.

I’m starting to believe that the Taiwan Embassy simply hasn’t selected all of its scholarship recipients yet. Why it’s deciding to select at different times is unknown to me, but it seems like the only two people who have been selected period are the two I mentioned previously. I guess this means that nobody has officially been rejected yet. In fact, I’m hearing rumors that Henry is actually on the cusp of being accepted. If he is, that would create an infusion of mixed emotions for me the likes of which I cannot even fathom right now.

Oh, I turned 25 recently, a full quarter century of living. It was my third and last birthday celebrated in the Marshall Islands. Some friends and I went to my favorite Chinese restaurant and ate the place clean while singing some karaoke. I kicked it off with “Ice Ice Baby” which was, unfortunately, a few steps slower on the karaoke machine than it’s supposed to be. However, utilizing my formidable rap skills and knowledge of lame early 90s music, I managed to sing it blind and then waited for the machine to catch up. That’s just how I roll.

I’m out in 28 days. Know what I’m looking forward to most? Late night fast food and, for the first time in four years, following my fantasy football team on Sundays instead of Mondays.

I also hear there’s some crazy thing called TIVO that I’m really going to like.

Marshallese debate

I’ve done a hell of a lot of debating in my life – three years of policy debate in high school and four years of parliamentary debating in college. Throw in a smattering of competitive speaking and Model UN, and you have the makings of a supreme dork. Luckily, my dorkiness has come in handy on a few occasions. Most recently, this year I was asked to teach “listening and speaking” to Upward Bound seniors. I wasn’t exactly sure what “listening and speaking” meant so I just changed it into a speech and debate course because that’s what I know.

Teaching the course has been difficult, as expected. Marshallese hate drawing attention to themselves, which of course is exactly what speech and debate is. My students started out with thirty second speeches and slowly made their way to four minutes. Now they’re starting to compete in abbreviated parliamentary debate rounds and their improvement has been noticeable.

Nevertheless, what’s also been noticeable is how differently they approach debate compared to what I’m used to. Marshallese culture is very communal. What is mine is also everyone’s. It’s simply unfair for me to have something and not share it. Thus, when my students began debating and would sometimes miss what their opponents said, they did what they were used to. During the middle of the round they asked their opponents what they said. And their opponents graciously repeated their arguments. After a speech ends, they again speak to each other to clarify what was said during the speech. I was at once flabbergasted and touched. The competitive juices that drove me to debate just does not exist in the same context.

My student was not selected to be a Gates Millennium Scholar. It’s disappointing but I keep telling myself that neither she nor I have anything to be ashamed of. She was part of the first group of applicants form the Marshall Islands, and was selected as one of 1,800 finalists from an applicant pool of 14,000. It’s not a baby step, it’s a big boy step, and maybe next year someone will be selected.

Helping to alleviate the disappointment is the fact that the same student was selected to be a Taiwan Scholar. There were two from Marshall Islands High School, both girls, again. Henry was not chosen for the second straight year. Neither was Jean.

I’ll be back in the United States in forty-two days. Hope to see a lot of you then.

Save the date

June 21, 2008 - Richard Li makes his triumphant return to the United States after three years in the Pacific. Earlier this month I requested a change in my termination date from August 14th and June 21st and it was approved this week. I'll fly into Honolulu and spend a couple of days there with friends before flying to Los Angeles and spending time with more friends and attending my first wedding. I'll be back home in Idaho on the 28th of June.

At first it was simply a relief to get all of this stuff mostly out of the way. However, the more I ruminate about it, the more exciting it gets. Needless to say the amount of change in my life has been pretty minimal over the past three years. Of course I don’t regret any decision I’ve made in the past three years, but just the fact that I have something different on the horizon is a pretty exciting turn of events.

On Friday I also received a bit of unexpected yet very welcome news. I’ve been elected by the senior class to be the faculty speaker at graduation. Not only is it neat in and of itself, but it’s particularly significant because of this year’s class. When I first arrived in the Marshall Islands, I taught sophomores. Partially as a result of wanting to see those students graduate, I decided to stay for two more years. Now those students are graduating seniors and I get to address them before we part ways. In seven years of competitive speech and debate I must have given over 1000 speeches. All of them combined don’t equal half the significance of this one. I’m really looking forward to it, and will be even more so once I figure out what to say.

Jane has had her Taiwan Scholarship revoked. She became very ill and then became very scared. Her friends say she had a “large and hard bump” on the side of her stomach that was very painful. She begged her parents to come back and receive traditional Marshallese medicine for it. Her parents were hesitant because the plane ticket is very expensive and they didn’t want to risk the chance of not being able to treat her, or worse, that she would simply never go back. They urged her to stay in Taiwan. She did and failed her classes. Her scholarship was revoked and she returned last week. She’s putting on a good face but I can tell she feels like she disappointed everybody.

Her sister, Jean, interviewed for the Taiwan Scholarship four days before Jane returned.

Henry has once again applied for the Taiwan Scholarship. He interviewed the same day as Jean.

If I were Lost, I'd be just fine

It was only a matter of time before I discovered the magic of TV shows on DVD while in the Marshall Islands. With a fair amount of free time, I could be doing something constructive like reading or even writing, but of course I'm doing what anyone else would do, watching endless amounts of television.

After I graduated but before I left for Majuro, a friend and I managed to polish off the first two seasons of The West Wing. When I came back after my first year here, I went on a mad TV show burning spree. I got a hold of five seasons of The West Wing and The Sopranos. Upon returning to Majuro, I managed to finish most of The West Wing before my DVD book was stolen. I, of course, was totally sad. I asked my landlord/neighbor if he could keep an eye out for anyone who all of a sudden has a new collection of DVDs to watch. A few days later he came by really excited because he had found my DVDs. I was like, "Whoa, really?" He said, "Yeah! You have a lot of good porn!" Sadly, I informed him that my DVDs were not porn. He seemed disappointed but then tried to liven my spirits by inviting me to go watch porn with him. I declined.

This year I broke down and bought the complete series of The West Wing, all seven seasons. I finished it a few months ago and am now rewatching it. My friend recently got her hands on Lost and asked if I wanted to blitz through it with her. While we were watching I suddenly ran through a couple of thoughts. My first thought was, "Wow it would really suck to be stuck on a deserted island." Then I thought, "Wow, how much more would it suck if this happened to me on my flight back to the States? I would be so excited only to be so stuck."

I think my friend sensed what I was thinking because she then asked aloud, "Dude, can you imagine if our flights out of here got stranded?"

I answered, "Yeah, that would really blow."

She looked at me quizzically and said, "What? Are you kidding?" Seeing the perplexed look on my face she proceeded to explain. "We would crash land with a bunch of Pacific Islanders! We'd be totally OK!"

"Wow, you're right," I responded. "I never thought about that. I guess there's no better people to crash land with is there?" We continued to watch.

"Ha!" I exclaimed, after watching the fat white guy try to catch a fish. "We wouldn't have that problem."

"Yeah we'd have so much fish to eat," she said. "Why aren't they eating any coconuts?"

"Because they don't know how to get them," I answered. "We would totally be able to rock that."

"Yeah, we'd probably even gain weight on that island since we're so badass," she said.

After awhile I chimed in again. "Hey, what about the monster?"

"OK, maybe not crash landing in the first place is a better idea."