Awake

Identifying "Teacher"

This is a story of how being ready with prose is good but being ready for improptu can be even better, especially when entering the home of a young African refugee women living in the 'burbs of Washington County.

Yesterday evening I arrived at Ruth's front door for our tutoring appointment with...

• an OSCON bookbag filled with Lemons Are Not Red, Is A Worry Worrying You?, an early reader book (something about a picnic), a sketch pad, a drawing kit (containing pastels, colored pencils, watercolors), various office supplies (scissors, scotch tape, paper clips, etc...)
• my vacuum
• my purse, containing a checkbook, Debit card, and other miscellaneous items

Immediately upon my arrival, the vacuum¹ became the focus of all in the room (including the 6 children, aged 1 through 8). I showed Ruth how it worked (one of the boys immediately took to figuring out the attachments) and soon she was vacuuming the living room floor.

Then, we entered her "apartment within an apartment": Ruth's bedroom, where she and her 3-year-old live. We sat down and I started pulling out books. As has become our weekly ritual, she pulled out the mail she had received the past week for me to look over and explain. The bank statement from B of A (her bank) was opened and upon my glance was determined to be for Frank Hernandez. Yeah, "Not at this address." Scotch tape was retrieved, envelope resealed, and put in bag to be returned to sender.

It being the day after the 1st of the month, Ruth pulled out her checkbook, the kind with the carbon copies, and asked me to write her rent check. Not having a register or a folder with the plastic flap to prevent all the carbon copies from getting an impression, I pulled out my checkbook, removed the folder (I can get another one at the bank today) and demonstrated how to use the plastic flap to create an effective carbon copy of the check. (Next week: addition and subtraction and balancing a checkbook. That should be interesting.) She could tell me the amount, but couldn't tell me who to make it out to. I asked if the manager lived onsite and told her that we could just walk over there and find out.

Next, Ruth indicated the overhead light and demonstrated at the bedroom light switch that it no longer functioned (a freestanding halogen lamp was currently in use). I hopped up on the bed and removed the light fixture's cover to determine what kind of bulb was in use. I explained that the bulb could be easily replaced.

Handy Teacher Amber, now fully identified as such, was then directed to the bathroom and the running toilet, which apparently had been continuously running for quite some time, possibly for several days. Tank cover was removed, bulb thingy lifted, handle jiggled, and toilet stopped running. (Observed toilet seat in pieces, literally. On my way out I wrote down the number that was on the "Now Renting" banner and later today I'll call them and ask them to replace the toilet seat. Good grief.)

Back in the bedroom, Ruth pointed to her eyes. They were red and irritated. I asked her if she had contacts. She said yes. I asked her if the 6 children in the house could be sent home so we could walk the 2 blocks over to the Safeway at the corner to get solution. She said yes. But first, there was more mail to deal with: food vouchers.

Ruth's son qualifies for food vouchers. The vouchers kinda look like blank checks and have a list of qualifying foods. In the envelope was a black and white table with a list of qualifying foods. Not so helpful. Also in the envelope was a full color brochure with pictures of qualifying foods and brands. Very helpful. Scissors and paper clips were retrieved from the depths of my bookbag, words were sounded out and whatever food was listed on the voucher, I cut out of the brochure and paperclipped to the voucher. Our errand run was clear: apartment manager (get name of property mangement company, deliver rent check) and Safeway, 2 blocks away (eye solution, light bulbs, food for Ruth's son).

I wasn't sure if she understood that a trip to Safeway and the apartment manager was in order. She did. Soon kids were putting on shoes (the ones who had shoes that fit). I packed up the books and we were off: a parade of Somalis and a white lady marching over to the other apartment building.

As I finished writing and delivering the check to the manager, the kids bounded up the stairs (I thought maybe they were just playing). But no, Ruth directed me up the stairs and opened the door to another apartment. Three Somali adults and maybe 10 kids were in the living room. The 6 we had with us were added to the number and the two of us headed to Safeway.

At the eye solution aisle, I asked Ruth if any of the boxes looked familiar. If she had contacts, I imagined that she would have a brand that she regularly purchased. When I asked her if she had hard or soft lenses and that that question could not possibly be understood by her, I looked into her eyes: no contacts. Picked up the $2.49 bottle of generic eye drops. Next, light bulbs were retrieved. Finally her son's food. I asked an employee how the vouchers worked. Just then Ruth realized that her Oregon Trail card was with her mom, (the card is needed as identification in order to use the vouchers). Oh well, we went around the aisles identifying qualifying foods. I found out Ruth doesn't like cheese, loves bananas, and usually buys nonfat milk. Her kid is so skinny, I suggested she buy 2% instead. I figured if my mom bought 2% for us as kids, maybe it was a good thing.

Back at the apartment, light bulb was replaced, and eye drops administered. And there was light (and it was good ;-) Redness vanished from Ruth's eyes (and it was good).

All throughout the evening, Ruth told me about all the good things that had happened that day. About how everyone was helping Ruth today. She was just overflowing with gratefulness and laughter. She explained that her social services person had called her to check in that afternoon and how she was able to answer the women's questions with ease. (I had spoken with the caseworker that afternoon as well.) When she checked in at the hotel, she saw my name and phone number on the board. She was so excited that her Teacher Amber was helping her. I was humbled and knew better. I was in awe of how Jesus went before me today and really served Ruth in a huge way. As I pulled out of the driveway, I was struck with how Ruth did know now that my name was Amber, but she still called me Teacher. I got a little choked up when I remembered how Jesus' followers called him Teacher as well. Filled with overwhelming joy, I laughed out loud at the amazing and mysterious works of God.

1. Why did I bring my vacuum? Several weeks ago, Ruth told me that her vacuum was broken and asked if she could borrow mine (in so many words). Every week since then, I've forgotten to bring it and been faced with a reminder from her of her need of it. I finally remembered to bring it.