Freckled Freedom

Picture a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon. As always, it takes a bit too long to make the journey to the beach but I arrive at the perfect nesting spot, snug out of the way from high trafficking areas attracting encounters. As I close my eyes, my phone rings. Ms. Nomad is on her way to school to pack up the classroom for a looming tropical storm- cue music… Gonzalo With a few heavy sighs and a lethargic trudge, I say goodbye to the sand and make my way to Omololu. Ms. Nomad and Mrs. Ting have already made quite a dent in my classroom. We bag up the remainder and head home to prepare for what is to come. Monday morning, I wake to sunshine, turtledoves chirping and a fresh breeze blowing in the window. I hop in the shower and prepare for another week with Grades 1 and 2. Just after I twist my hair up into a tight turban, I plop onto my bed and discover an email reading: NO SCHOOL TODAY- cue music… Gonzalo is on his way In the midst of 10 minutes, my current is...

I feel like one becomes a true island girl when she experiences her first wood slave kill... all whilst frantically swatting a broom with one foot on her tall wicker chair and the other on her bar countertop. Two nights ago, we encountered each other. Well, perhaps he didn't notice me but I sure stared him down. He had made himself cozy perched on the highest point of the kitchen ceiling. I grabbed the broom, slamming it into the wall and watched as he scurried away, taking residence upon my cabinets. I closed the lights... until we meet again little wood slave, until we meet again.  I remember the first time a wood slave scaled his way from the balcony into my apartment. Just shy of a week into my new life in Anguilla, I was confronted with the character, suctioning himself to the wall watching the silly American contemplate how she would remove his scaly body. At that moment, Janiera, board member and buddy, called to check in and see how I was settling in. I told her of th...

...Said no teacher ever. When most people think of teaching, they picture out-by-3:30 workdays, never-ending holidays, snow days, coloring, counting, playing all day long, and the oh-so-divine summer break. However, when a teacher thinks of the profession, and I'm talking a real teacher-  not the rubber-room, authoritarian, my-way-or-the-highway, paycheck collector- this teacher thinks of the profession in a completely different light. This teacher thinks of the endless TO DO list that never seems to decrease, the constant need to improve, what worked well but more often what could have been better. This teacher thinks of the mountainous stack of grading that continues to grow, the charts and bulletin boards yet to be created, the activities that were once dreamed of that require more time to prepare than available, overly-priced supplies purchased out of a petite pocket. This teacher thinks of late nights gathering ideas on Pinterest, cramming in curriculum, Sunday ...

No... I mean Anguilla.  Since beginning the Anguillian Chronicles , the latest chapter in the life of KTS, many people have asked, well how in the world did you end up there?!  Lord knows really. It never dawned on me that I would find myself here but let's recap, shall we?  On Tuesday October 22, I sat in room 216 at P.S. 33 feeling down and out about my search for life beyond my masters degree. Websites called out for teaching assistants  and volunteers  throughout the world. No need for a masters. Hell, just have a bachelors in SOMETHING and speak English and you're good to go. No experience necessary.  China. Korea. Vietnam. Japan. Kuwait. Dubai. Saudi Arabia.  ...No where that spoke to my heart.  I felt defeat.  Two and a half years of studying, and for what? No matter that I spent countless hours and dollars on exams to become a certified teacher. No matter that I took the time to study and learn to become highly q...

Here I am, just a few days shy of my two-month mark living in Anguilla. Sitting in my favorite spot on Rendezvous Bay, I stare out at turquoise water, sailboats and yachts, passerby tourists who attempt to freeze this paradise in still frame before returning to retrospective winters, villas of the rich and the plastic, and the glorious mountains of St. Maarten. Moments like this make me question reality. Rendezvous Bay, Anguilla Actually, most of the moments I spend on this 17-mile-long, 3-mile-wide island nestled between the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean, cause me to question my reality. Living in Anguilla is like living in an alternate universe. In short, this place is something special.  I often boast about my balls of steel, but that's not to say they didn't shrivel up when presented with the opportunity to move to an island I had never heard of. Being stable for so long, studying, slinging drinks, and schmoozing with the family and friends who know me inside a...