The Tides of Change, a Novel by @rodeo670: Part 1

I've been working on this novel for years, but still haven't gotten around to finishing it, so I am posting it on the Steem blockchain in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, if people start reading it on here and I see that there is a legitimate interest in my writing, I will find the motivation to pick up where I left off and finally close out this story so I can start some serious work towards getting my first novel ever published in print and I can achieve one of my dreams, to become the first published author of my generation from the CNMI.

This is the story of Jordan Dela Cruz, a USMC Iraq War veteran who comes home to Saipan and becomes a History teacher to help the next generation break free from the shackles of the cultural generational poverty mindset, which keeps the status quo alive and keeps the people of the CNMI disempowered and believing that nothing will ever change.

It was getting harder for Jordan to concentrate on teaching as he approached the end of the day, knowing what was to come at the end of class. He hadn’t even been a teacher for that long; he was only halfway into his second year of teaching History at Marianas High School, but it was his other passion in life, next to politics. He saw teaching as another way of changing the world, by helping the youth of Saipan see the world as it really is; by helping them to realize the ills of society, so that, should he fail in his own personal efforts to effect lasting change, this up-and-coming generation would be the one to succeed where he could not. He walked into his classroom one last time for his final session of class before his suspension took effect, trying not to show that something was obviously troubling him. He wanted to at least have a good final lesson, so he didn’t want his students to find out about the suspension until the end of class.

He sat at his desk and took a good look around his classroom, taking in all of its vacant, peaceful beauty before the students began to pour in for their last class of the day. He started to wonder just how long they would keep him out of this classroom, how long they would entrust someone else to take care of these children’s education, whether his kids would actually learn anything substantial while he was gone; before he knew it, a thousand things were whizzing around in his head and he became lost in his thoughts. Just then, the bell rang that signified the end of the break period, which shocked Jordan back into reality. It wasn’t long before the students began to pour into the classroom, having no idea of the big announcement that was to come at the end of the day.

Jordan greeted his students as soon as they were all seated. “Good afternoon, class,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dela Cruz!” the class replied in unison.

Jordan proceeded to take attendance. After that was done, he smiled and said, “Today is a special day, but I won’t tell you why until the end of class, so hang in there! Because it’s a special day, I figured we would keep the textbooks closed and talk about something that is more recent in our history; how does that sound?”

“What are we gonna talk about, Mister?” a student in the back asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough, Kyle,” Jordan replied. He stood up and walked to the front of his desk. “First, let me ask you guys this: how many of you have parents who aren’t U.S. citizens or permanent residents?” About two-thirds of the class of thirty raised their hand. “Alright,” he continued, “Now, out of you guys, how many of you were born in the CNMI and have been here your whole life?” Every hand stayed up. “Okay, who can tell me how, despite not being U.S. citizens or permanent residents, your parents have been able to stay here with you, on U.S. soil, this whole time?”

“Well, they’re contract workers?” a female student in the back corner asked shyly.

“Yes, Hannah, that’s right!” said Jordan. “Do you guys understand how that works, how, as contract workers, your parents have been able to stay here your whole lives?”

“Ummm….it means they can only stay here only as long as they have a contract to work somewhere, right?” Hannah asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means,” Jordan answered. “Do you know how long those contracts usually last?”

“Usually one or two years, I think.”

“Right again, Hannah! And how long have your parents been working at their current jobs?”

“Pretty much since I was born, I guess. They’ve never changed jobs for as long as I can remember.”

“So they just keep on getting their contracts renewed every time they expire, right?”

“Yeah, that’s actually something they’re always worrying about now…they’re always wondering if their contract will be renewed or not, since the economy is so bad now. They’re worried that they won’t be renewed and we will have no other option but to move to the Philippines, where they came from.”

“Ah, yes. I’d imagine that they’re not the only ones worrying about that,” said Jordan. “Does anyone else have a similar story?” The same group of students who raised their hands earlier raised them again. “Alright, can any of you tell me why they’re still just contract workers, then, even though they’ve been here your whole lives?” The room was silent. No one knew what to say. A few students looked like they were in deep thought fishing for the right answer, but after a few moments, no one offered an answer, so Jordan reached over and grabbed a stack of papers on his desk, raised them in the air, and said, “Well, you’re about to find out right now. Please take one and pass it down.” Jordan went to the front row and handed out a small part of the stack to each student seated there, then returned to his place at the front of his desk.

“Public Law 3-66? What’s what, Mister?” Kyle asked, looking at the top right-hand corner of the three-page handout he had just received.

“Public Law 3-66 is the law that allowed all your parents to come work and live here in the CNMI, Kyle,” Jordan answered. “In trying to understand your parents’ current predicament, it is very important that we look at this law and examine what it says. I’ve only given you three of the most important parts, because the entire law is quite long. Can you read lines 9 through 13 on that first page out loud?”

“Sure,” Kyle said as he started reading. “The Legislature recognizes the need for alien labor at the present state of economic development but finds that the employment of nonresident workers should be temporary and generally limited to the duration of the specific job or employment for which the alien was recruited.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Kyle. Can you tell me what that means?”

“Uhhh,” Kyle began, looking at the section he just read. “It means…it means that when they wrote this law, our parents were only supposed to be here for a short time?”

“Exactly! So can anyone tell me why are they still here?” Silence fell in the classroom as Jordan looked around at his students, hoping that someone would offer an answer to his question. After a while, the room was still silent, and judging by the stumped looks on his students’ faces, Jordan assumed no one was going to answer, so he began to say, “It’s because--“

Just then, Hannah interrupted and sheepishly said, “It’s because they’re waiting for us to turn 21 so that we can petition them for green cards?”

“Well,” Jordan said, “I suppose that could be true for most, if not all, of you; however, that’s not quite the answer I was looking for. You’re not wrong, Hannah; I’m just looking for a different answer right now. But good on you for taking that chance and speaking up! Can anyone else think of a reason that they’re still here?” He waited another moment to see if anyone else would try their luck. The room was silent. “Alright, turn to the last page of the handout I just gave you. Can someone read Section 11 from line 15 to the end of the sentence on line 24?”

“Apprenticeship Training Program,” a voice began to read. “Not later than one hundred fifty days after the date of enactment of this Act, the Chief, with the approval of the Director, shall transmit to the Governor a plan for an apprenticeship training program for resident workers, in which employers would be reimbursed for a portion of the wages or salaries of apprentices during a period of training designed to qualify them at the journeyman level of a trade or entry level of a profession. This program shall be limited to trades which the Chief finds to be essential to the future development needs of the Commonwealth or where significant numbers of nonresident workers are employed.”

“Excellent, Mike. Thank you for that,” said Jordan. “Can someone else read the rest of that section?”

Hannah started to read, “In developing this program, the Chief shall give special consideration to the need for trained resident workers in the fields of construction, agriculture, home economics, fisheries, hotel management and tourism services, mechanics, and business trades. This plan shall include an estimate of funds necessary to implement this program for the Fiscal Year ending September 30, 1984 and an estimate of any Federal or other grant which may be available for such implementation. The Chief shall implement this plan and administer this program, subject to the availability of funds.”

“Awesome, thank you, Hannah. Now, taking into consideration what Mike and Hannah just read, can someone tell me why your parents, the contract workers, or Nonresident Workers as described by this Act, are still here working and living in the CNMI even after all these years, even though, as Kyle stated earlier, they were only supposed to be here for a short time?” Jordan stood there and waited. He watched as his students looked over Section 11 again and mulled it over in their heads. He had faith that someone would connect the dots and give him the answer he was looking for. “Come on guys, I know you’ve got this. Even if you think it’s wrong, just tell me what you think.”

“Mister, is it because our government never actually created the Apprenticeship Training Program that this section talks about?” asked a voice from the back of the classroom. “Cuz I’ve never heard of that, and my relatives tell me lots of stories about our history, but leche, they never said anything about this…”

“Yes, Chris, you’re absolutely right! Good job,” Jordan said, pleased that his last bit of encouragement succeeded in getting one of his students to speak up. This was a key aspect in Jordan’s teaching method; he truly believed that with enough encouragement and positive support, his students would learn to overcome the fear of what others think, and begin to speak what is truly on their minds. This was crucial in changing the mindset in the islands that had been passed down from generation to generation, where everyone remained silent even in the face of oppression and corruption, due to fears of reprisal from family, friends, and employers.

“So,” he continued, “With all of these things in mind, let me ask you guys this: why are your parents still living and working here as temporary nonresident workers, even though they have been here your whole lives?”

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Thank you for reading! This is just a part of a chapter of the novel...I would have posted the whole chapter, but it would have been way too long and you probably would not have stayed to read the whole thing. So I decided to break the chapters up into smaller parts for easier reading on Steemit.

As you read my novel, there will be words that you don't understand...those words are commonly used in our vernacular back home in the CNMI (the U.S. Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands), kind of our own special version of English, I suppose, which mixes in words from other languages. Feel free to ask me what they mean in the comments below!

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How I Achieved 200 Followers in My First Month on Steemit
Why I Chose to Invest $100 in Steem
How To Set Up Your Steemit Profile
The Dawn of The Dancing Dreamers
The Dawn of Friendship In a New Age
I'm Just an Island Boy Living in Utah who Loves EDM

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!steemitworldmap 40.754539 lat -111.902618 long Salt Lake City, Utah local Steemian! d3scr