Other side of the Lele

It means leap.

Leaping is not an easy thing. For most of my life, I’ve been a one-step-at-a-time guy, and for most areas of my life, I still am. But every so often, a lele is necessary to propel one’s life into an unpredictable trajectory, to test oneself and answer some of the bigger questions. What is most important? Who am I? Where do I belong? Is a dream worth pursuing? I knew that going into this, regardless if I loved it or hated it, I would not regret making the lele. To that I hold.

A year ago, I was a mess because I was leaving my home for 37+ years, my school of 14 years, and my closest assurances of security and sanity – the people I love. Hawai’i was worth it to me. Something about the island. And I don’t mean the beaches and the sunsets and mountains. I really don’t. It is the synergy of all that, plus the people, plus the undeniable presence of God (whatever that means to you), in this numinous land.

Today was my last day in my sole year of school at Maui Preparatory Academy. My kids finished their final projects a week before finals week; I’ve never liked the idea of ending the school year on an exam or presentation. In a story, that would perhaps be the climax, and no story ends on a climax. It ends with a resolution. During this last week of the school year, I resolved the relationship I had built with each student. In a flash five-minute exit conversation, I asked each kid for one highlight from humanities class and one area they want to grow. After that, I used the remaining couple of minutes to verbally praise their efforts, recalling specific achievements and struggles they have overcome. For a group of kids I have only known for one year, I grew pretty emotional. Each memory I shared with each student was not just a part of her/his story… it was a part of mine. I got to end the year by telling each of them how good they are, how exciting are the possibilities to get better, and how surely they grasp the ability to realize their potential. Truly, I taught some phenomenal students.

Today, I also said a hui hou to my co-workers, school families, and new friends. These are people who supported me throughout the difficult parts of this year, when I was really missing my family, friends and my home.

Throughout the last 11 months, they sat with me at the lunch table on the school lanai, and asked me how I was doing – not in a coddling way, but with genuine care, concern and empathy. They listened to my struggles and joys and helped me process all the new challenges.

They sat with me on the back of a sail boat when I was horribly seasick and threw up in front of the school board. They knew that they didn’t need to say anything, just sit with me.

They recognized nuances in my teaching – the little things I do that I sometimes forget to notice myself. They affirmed me, and gave me confidence that I’m not a one school pony. They also challenged me to think creatively about my craft and to tread new waters in education. In fact, they dared me to flip education upside down – no frivolous homework, large scale integrated projects, electives based on teacher passions, and more. Reminds me of a quote from my grad school teacher, Katherine Schlick Noe: “You can pass on a passion by living a passion.” This year, I feel like I really inspired some kids to write, to be musicians, and to be artists, all because they saw me practice what I preach (and give them a grade).

They helped me get comfortable in the ocean to the point where I started diving 15 to 20 feet under water. A couple times, I scared myself, coming within feet of a shark, an eel, and diving a little too deep by myself (sorry Mom). But hey, I’m still alive.

They invited me to join the trivia team, and we kicked ass. We won both nights I played (and for the record, several times when I did not play). I got two cool hats, but even better, I got some great friends.

They had me over to their homes for drinks. We talked story and laughed. We talked football and food and music. We drank more. We went pau hana happy hour and watched the Seahawks triumph or lose. Either way, they heard me yell and scream and cuss and cheer and all the rabid habits of a die hard 12.

They introduced me to their families and taught me pidgin. They invited me to their family parties and taught me` “““Ōlelo. But even more, they taught me about Hawaiian culture, spirituality, nature, land, mythology and more. They deepened my love and appreciation for Hawai’i and helped me understand my relationship with the ground I walk upon and the sea in whose embrace I float.

They watched sunsets with me, ate with me, made me masks, shared stories about growing up, collaborated on lessons, cooked with me, and kept me company.

They played music with me and we sang together on Christmas when I was missing choir rehearsals. They had me cantor and gave me an opportunity to share my love of music with a larger community.

They fed me exquisite homemade banana bread, cake, tacos, and lau lau. They invited me to their tailgate barbecue and fed me lunch for a week. They gave me ulu (breadfruit), kalamansi, farm fresh eggs, cookies, and more.

They shared their favorite locations on the island, hiked with me, almost got me to surf, and (re)taught me how to fish. They taught me about coral and sea life, various plants and land animals.

What am I forgetting? Probably a lot, but what I leave with, what makes me sad to uproot once again is that in less than a year of living on Maui, I was blessed with abundant aloha. Was it perfect? Actually, it kinda was. It wasn’t shiny happy buttercakes the whole time, but that is part of what made this journey perfect. I loved the challenges. I loved feeling sad and broken. I know that sounds weird, but let’s be real. To have feelings like that means that love is very much a part of your life. I learned that last spring. I learned that from my grandma.

I do leave Maui Prep and Maui in a mournful state, though not with regret. To mourn my farewell means that I experienced love and gave love. That is true aloha. All that is left is to be grateful, and with that, life is pretty damn good.