One of the things I was unaware of before moving to Mission was the extent to which white folks come and go on the reservation. On a related note, I also didn’t realize how much of a destination the Rosebud is in terms of church groups looking to perform mission work. (The vast majority of the groups, visiting Habitat or other organizations, are religiously affiliated. Habitat has a few secular groups.)
AmeriCorps is innately a temporary program. Participants commit to a certain amount of service time, with VISTAs working for one year. I knew even before arriving that there would come a time when I would leave, presumably to attend graduate school. That did not stop me from becoming a part of the community, which I did willingly because I genuinely love the place.
But how does all of this look to those who don’t get to leave? I know I did good things for not only Habitat, but for Mission and the Rosebud as well. But I left. Just like the white people who spend a week during the summer teaching vacation bible school. Just like the Teach For America teachers who flee after their two-year commitment, if they make it that long. And just like every other person who “does their time” on the rez before departing for greener pastures.
The high school dropout rate at the high school is atrocious. This is the result of many factors, including, in my opinion, the turnover rate in the teaching corps. The district relies heavily on TFA. I’m sure they’d have trouble recruiting people otherwise. I love the place, but it is isolated and there are many challenges to reservation life.
I extended my service seven months over my original commitment, yet I can’t get over my feeling of abandonment. What makes me different from every other (white) person who has come and gone? The kids I coached won’t see me as any different from any of their former teachers. And should they?
Because I knew my time on the Rosebud would be temporary, I completely threw myself into life in town and the greater reservation soon after arriving in November 2008. My goal was to become a familiar face around town. I achieved and exceeded that goal. People were sad to hear I was leaving. Yeah, they were excited for me about graduate school, but still sad.
There’s nothing I can really do about how I’m feeling. Just like when I moved to Mission (and Juneau before that), Boise needs to be my home now, and it will be. I’ve already met some great people, I’m enjoying the solitude of my apartment, and the first week of grad school has been fun. And the running is fantastic!
It still wasn’t a good feeling to replace my South Dakota “67” plates with Idaho “1A” plates. Nothing against Boise, but it felt like a step backward. The 67 stood for Todd County, home to the Rosebud. 1A is Ada County, so now I’m one of about 384,000 people. Just doesn’t seem as special.
I don’t want to say it wasn’t time to go, because it was. Grad school has been my goal and, like other goals I’ve had, nothing was going to stop me. But 19 months wasn’t long enough. The memory of unpacking the car was still fresh when I finished packing the car back up to leave two weeks ago.
People have asked what I plan to do after grad school. My response has been, “We’ll see what my priorities are two years from now.” If I can figure out a way to mentally make Boise a smaller place than it truly is, maybe it can remain home forever. But if I do end up leaving in 2012 after I graduate, that will be the last move. I’m proud of my background and the interesting places I’ve lived, but this moving stuff is wearing me down.
No matter what, though, I'm keeping my subscription to the Tribune.
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