If there is one thing that I have learned from this season of my life, it is this:
"Andrea, you can't always be doing great things all the time."
My therapist said that to me a couple of weeks ago after listening to my umpteenth complaint about how bored and frustrated and sad I felt with my life. I'm not in school for the first spring in 18 years, I don't work during the day, and I simply don't have much to DO. I watch a lot of TV. I read a lot of books. I check my email obsessively so that I won't miss any important WMU news or deadlines. I spend a lot of time next door playing with the kids because they are so much more interesting than my own house. I even started exercising.
Yes. EXERCISING.
About two weeks after moving back home, I began to feel extremely depressed about doing so little with my life. I was looking for a daytime job that wouldn't interfere with my afternoon and night jobs, but with very little luck. It was cold and snowy and gray and lifeless outside, which mirrored perfectly the way I felt inside. Hearing that I had been accepted to my master's program helped to ease my anxiety about the future, but it changed into a different kind of waiting that was only slightly easier to tolerate. My future was safely on track, it just hadn't started moving forward yet.
I've felt that motionlessness very deeply. My minecart of life is at a standstill on the tracks between the junctions of college and grad school. It has coasted to a stop and I'm very afraid that my little minecart has lost all of the momentum it had gained through all those years of school. I'm afraid that it will be hard to push my minecart into motion and keep it moving. So much of my life during the past few months has felt slow, monotonous, and unexciting. I never ever ever thought that I would say this, but I miss having schoolwork. I miss being occupied. I miss moving at the speed of light.
"You can't always be doing great things all the time."
If you are not familiar with Calvin College and its culture, that idea might seem like a no-brainer. Duh. You can't do great things all the time because then you'd be exhausted and always trying to out-do yourself and you'd never be satisfied. Somehow, though, when you're inside the Calvin bubble, you can delude yourself. People at Calvin and from Calvin seem to always be doing great things all the time. There are posters everywhere urging you to join this club, attend this seminar, participate in this awareness event, get involved with this ministry, on and on and on. The school's website has an entire News and Stories division devoted to showing the great things that their graduates are doing all the time. This person is single-handedly building wells in this remote village in Africa. This person is mapping this mysterious portion of the brain and discovering what it does. This person is teaching entire immigrant communities how to read English. This person just became an ambassador to the United Nations. On and on and on.
If they did a News and Stories story about me, it would be embarrassingly disappointing. "This person wakes up at 10:00 every morning but usually stays in bed til 11 because she can't think of any reason to get out of bed. She has watched the entire series of Law and Order: SVU beginning to end (that's thirteen seasons). Sometimes she eats lunch; sometimes she doesn't have an appetite. She leaves for work around 3:00 during the week, and curses the snow up and down for wreaking havoc with her little car. Here's something exciting! She got stuck in her employer's driveway on afternoon and slid backward into a tree, destroying a taillight and part of her rear bumper. The tree is fine, though, so don't worry."
I love Calvin dearly, but sometimes their idealism spins out of control. Its entire mission is to redeem the WORLD, aka do great things. Math class is not just math class, it is "changing the world through math." Spanish class is not just Spanish class, it is "ministering to Spanish-speaking people who don't know Jesus and changing the world." Education classes are not just education classes, they are "being the best teacher the world has ever seen and bringing God's light to every student and, of course, changing the world." The people of Calvin can usually make a joke out of this idealism and optimism and redeem-it-all-ism, but at the end of the day, it gets stuck in your head like the reviled, overplayed song on the radio that everyone is sick of.
You can imagine my surprise after spending a few weeks at home, living life in a much lower gear, and feeling horribly inadequate. Here I was, a bilingual college graduate with a teaching certificate, for crying out loud, but feeling like I amounted to very little. I really do have a lot going for me: not pregnant, not a teenage mother, not a drug addict, not an alcoholic, college-educated, literate, fed and sheltered, and loved. In no way am I need of "getting my life back on track." But why can't I make myself remember that?!
I guess it all boils down to this: you can't always be doing great things all the time. Sometimes, all you can do is exist. Live your day-to-day life. Make it through the week. Do your homework. Take care of your kids. Go to work and put up with the people you don't like. Get up in the morning. Eat at least some healthy food. Get in bed and fall asleep at night.
We can't all be digging wells in Africa. We can't all be studying the human brain and finding cures for cancer. We can't all be teaching English to immigrants. We can't all be legislators and ambassadors on the front lines, crusading for freedoms and rights. Most of all, we can't always hold ourselves to the impossible standard of doing big, noteworthy, sparkling, attention-getting things every moment of every day. It's a good thing to strive for, but we've got to stay realistic. Life itself is a big thing. Making lunch for your 4-year-old isn't very sparkly or glamorous, but if you didn't do it, your kid would starve. Keeping your head above the flood that is your schoolwork is not fancy or exciting, but if you blew it all off, you wouldn't get where you want to go. If you didn't have these stretches of time that seem interminable and deadly tedious, you wouldn't appreciate the opportunities that arise for doing great things, things that make life seem worthwhile, things that make you feel alive.
"We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it." - Mother Theresa
Preach.
Showing posts with label Lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Identity
When I first transferred to Calvin, I had to do a three-day Transfer Student Orientation the weekend before second semester classes started. From what I can tell, it was similar to the orientation that first-year students do: bonding time with your orientation group, tours, meals with faculty from your program, a service day in the community, sessions on integrating into Calvin's community, etc. Thankfully, we didn't have to do sessions on "adjusting to college life" because all of us had been college students already.
During one of the sessions, the facilitator had us write down on slips of paper the goals we had for our time at Calvin. I don't remember what I wrote down. Probably something to do with getting a good teaching job since that was my main reason for getting my degree from Calvin. Once everyone had finished writing, the facilitator told us to trade slips with the people around us until he told us to stop. I ended up with the slip of paper that you can see below.
I know in my head what I want to do: go to Western, get a Master's Degree in School Counseling, and get a job in a school as a counselor. In my head, that is my plan. Even before starting at Western, though, I have to be accepted to their program. As far as I know, and with what others have told me, this program is not one of those highly competitive programs where hundreds apply and twenty get in. Someone who graduated from this program told me that so long as I have good grades and solid recommendations, there should be no reason to reject my application. My head knows this and believes this, but each day that passes without a letter from Western causes my heart to twist a little bit tighter.
If/when I am accepted, I won't even start classes until May. In the meantime, I don't have any major career plans. Substitute teaching, even long-term subbing, scares me. I absolutely do not like the idea of being in a different school with hundreds of different students every day. A good friend of mine is in a similar situation to mine and is subbing until her long-term sub position starts in March. She has exactly the personality that works for subbing - exuberant, friendly, extroverted, and go-with-the-flow. I have learned that I am much more comfortable with one-on-one or small groups situations. I can do one-on-thirty if I have to, like in a regular classroom, but I am so much better with individuals.
Keeping that in mind, I picked up a job as an aide for a 20-year-old young man with autism. I come to his house where he lives with his family and I spend the day helping him live his life. He is non-verbal and cognitively about 4 or 5 years old. He's capable of entertaining himself and seems to enjoy being alone from time to time, which means I don't have to hover over him. Because of his autism, though, he needs help with daily tasks like using the bathroom, making coffee, and operating his videos. It is unlike any job I have ever had. I've only worked one day with him so far, and even though it was a bit overwhelming, I felt like I did good that day. It's only a part-time job, since he goes to school during the week, which still leaves me with the dilemma of what to do during the day.
Between my job as an aide and all of my tutoring students, I average about 25 hours per week of working. I don't have much to do during the day. It's a weird situation because I will be working full-time (or more) once summer starts and that will continue once the new school year starts up. Finding a very temporary job for the next three months is proving difficult. I would like to be working more, if only to have something to do. Having graduated from a widely-known and respected institution like Calvin carries the tacit expectation that you are on your way to great things with your career and your life. Compared with lots of my fellow graduates, I am not fulfilling that tacit expectation (yet).
This feeling of un-fulfillment began to eat away at me this past week as I spent my mornings and early afternoons at home watching TV and obsessively checking the mailbox. It's hard to find your value in a career when you haven't started one yet. Calvin places so much emphasis on "redeeming the world" - that is, changing it for the better with what you do. Is it possible to redeem the world by watching four episodes of Grey's Anatomy in a row? I feel better about myself when I'm tutoring or working with the young man with autism, but those jobs fill only a small percentage of my days right now.
I went out with my Substitute Teacher Extraordinaire friend on Friday night to catch up and swap post-graduation stories. Even though she is working almost every day, my friend admitted that she felt the same uneasiness that I feel. Even though we teacher graduates regard subbing as a professional's work, the State of Michigan doesn't. In some states, you need only 90 credit hours of college in order to sub. Annie was telling me that she knew how I felt; that working a day-to-day low-paying job was not what she expected to be doing after graduating. She brought me to a great conclusion though. I should not expect to find all of my self-worth in my work. At times like this, it would only make me feel bad. It was so refreshing to sit with her and have her remind me that I am not my work. Work is a part of me, but it does not define me. There are more important identities to hold to: child of God, daughter, sister, friend, mentor, confidante...as Annie put it, those are the identities to cling to.
So along with "different path," I add "child of God" to my list of mantras. Thank you, Annie, for reminding me of this. You da best. To the rest of you, thank you for reading.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
"So, what have you been up to since you were last here?"
Instead of simply enjoying my Christmas break and allowing myself to just veg out and let everything from my semester's classes fall out of my brain, I got myself a temporary job. Back in September 2008, when I was first taking classes at Grand Rapids CC, my dad suggested that I get a job at the campus bookstore because he knew several of the people that run the place. Over the course of three semesters, I worked there during six different rush periods. My main jobs were preparing and shelving used books and helping customers find their books. I got to do some other odd jobs too, such as fixing a printer (it was really just plugging something in) and delivering textbooks to a satellite campus. When I transferred to Calvin, I said my farewell to the Bookstore, (fairly) sure that it would be last time. Of course, the managers said that I was welcome to come back anytime, and since I need money for grad school, it seemed like the obvious choice for a job over break.
However, before I tell you that story I must tell you this story.
Fast forward to Saturday night: it was not a great night. I was feeling very upset about the fact that so many of my friends were getting engaged and married, I had just finished my last regular semester at Calvin, I realized that I wouldn't be seeing a lot of my friends anymore, friends my age were getting jobs and moving away...basically, I was feeling very lonely. I was sitting there, thinking it really couldn't get any worse, and then BAM! I discovered that my ex-boyfriend had just gotten engaged to his girlfriend. It's not as if I still have feelings for him, but it was mostly the fact that yet another person my age was getting married.
My mind started down its well-worn path. Is something wrong with me that all these other people my age (or younger) are getting married and I'm not even close to that? Am I unlovable? Do I need to change something about myself? And the thought that scared me the most: had God forgotten about me? Was He busy with other people's lives and He'd get back around to me once they were all set? Had I been placed in a holding pattern until God had time for me? I had certainly been feeling that way lately, given that I was a year (or more) older than almost everyone else in all of my classes last semester, I was single, and instead of moving away to take a job offer at graduation, I was moving back in with my parents to work a collection of odd jobs to raise money for more school.
On Monday, I went back to the Bookstore, bright and early. Actually, not bright at all because it was very early. Anyway, everyone was asking me how my time at Calvin had been and what I had been up to since last working at the bookstore. It was then that I realized that I had actually accomplished a lot of monumental things:
- I had graduated from college with a 4-year degree
- I had studied in Spain for five months and become fluent in Spanish
- I had completed 14 weeks of student teaching
- I had written a book manuscript (still working on getting that bad boy published)
It took being around a group of non-Calvin people to realize that my life was actually moving forward (sorry Calvin people, but it's true). At a place like Calvin, it's easy to feel like you're not forging your own path. Everyone there is serious about their academics, almost everyone gets jobs after graduation or goes on to grad school, and a whooooole lot of people get engaged by the end. I had two of the three, but somehow, I felt like I wasn't going anywhere because I wasn't three for three.
After experiencing this great revelation, I've been feeling better about myself and my ability to make something of myself. The employees of the Bookstore are so wonderfully diverse. Their goals are not to graduate and immediately get married, as seems to be the running theme at Calvin. Being among them again brought me back to myself.
However, before I tell you that story I must tell you this story.
Fast forward to Saturday night: it was not a great night. I was feeling very upset about the fact that so many of my friends were getting engaged and married, I had just finished my last regular semester at Calvin, I realized that I wouldn't be seeing a lot of my friends anymore, friends my age were getting jobs and moving away...basically, I was feeling very lonely. I was sitting there, thinking it really couldn't get any worse, and then BAM! I discovered that my ex-boyfriend had just gotten engaged to his girlfriend. It's not as if I still have feelings for him, but it was mostly the fact that yet another person my age was getting married.
My mind started down its well-worn path. Is something wrong with me that all these other people my age (or younger) are getting married and I'm not even close to that? Am I unlovable? Do I need to change something about myself? And the thought that scared me the most: had God forgotten about me? Was He busy with other people's lives and He'd get back around to me once they were all set? Had I been placed in a holding pattern until God had time for me? I had certainly been feeling that way lately, given that I was a year (or more) older than almost everyone else in all of my classes last semester, I was single, and instead of moving away to take a job offer at graduation, I was moving back in with my parents to work a collection of odd jobs to raise money for more school.
On Monday, I went back to the Bookstore, bright and early. Actually, not bright at all because it was very early. Anyway, everyone was asking me how my time at Calvin had been and what I had been up to since last working at the bookstore. It was then that I realized that I had actually accomplished a lot of monumental things:
- I had graduated from college with a 4-year degree
- I had studied in Spain for five months and become fluent in Spanish
- I had completed 14 weeks of student teaching
- I had written a book manuscript (still working on getting that bad boy published)
It took being around a group of non-Calvin people to realize that my life was actually moving forward (sorry Calvin people, but it's true). At a place like Calvin, it's easy to feel like you're not forging your own path. Everyone there is serious about their academics, almost everyone gets jobs after graduation or goes on to grad school, and a whooooole lot of people get engaged by the end. I had two of the three, but somehow, I felt like I wasn't going anywhere because I wasn't three for three.
After experiencing this great revelation, I've been feeling better about myself and my ability to make something of myself. The employees of the Bookstore are so wonderfully diverse. Their goals are not to graduate and immediately get married, as seems to be the running theme at Calvin. Being among them again brought me back to myself.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
A Door Closed
Well, Eerdmans Publishing said no. That wasn't such a great email to come home to this morning. It said
"We are grateful for your consideration, but I am afraid that in our very full program we do not see a niche for this proposal, and that we must therefore disappoint you. What does not suit our current needs may suit perfectly the needs of another publisher, and we wish you well in your efforts elsewhere."
Bah. Oh well. It's virtually unheard of for an author to get a deal from their very first publisher anyway. I'm planning to try with Faith Alive Resources next, which just happens to be the publishing arm of the Christian Reformed Church. Wish me luck.
"We are grateful for your consideration, but I am afraid that in our very full program we do not see a niche for this proposal, and that we must therefore disappoint you. What does not suit our current needs may suit perfectly the needs of another publisher, and we wish you well in your efforts elsewhere."
Bah. Oh well. It's virtually unheard of for an author to get a deal from their very first publisher anyway. I'm planning to try with Faith Alive Resources next, which just happens to be the publishing arm of the Christian Reformed Church. Wish me luck.
In the meantime, here is what I've been tooling around with as far as the cover art is concerned. That is, if I get a say in it. :)
That's all I've got for now.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Calculating
I confess: I am a very analytical, logical, calculating person.
I try to calculate everything.
How long it will take me to travel to a destination based on method of transportation.
How to do a homework assignment in the most efficient way possible.
How much food and/or calories I can get away with eating in a given day.
How to express myself in another language with perfect grammar (challenging) and without offending anyone.
How much time I can waste on the weekends while still leaving enough time to finish homework.
How to get what I want with the smallest amount of imposition on others.
How to get what I want with the least social interaction possible (for example: trying to find out information on a company's website instead of taking 2 minutes to call an employee and ask my question).
How to make people happy.
How to make myself happy.
Some of things are okay to calculate. A few are even very necessary in my life. Others...not so much. I really need to work on not calculating on the one about avoiding social interaction. It frustrates my mom to no end when I drive to say, a video store to see if they have a movie I need instead of just calling the store and asking over the phone.
I'm learning little by little that people and relationships should not be calculated. Certain elements of people and relationships CAN be calculated, such as just how much button-pushing a person can endure before they lose it, or which type of flowers are your sweetheart's favorite, but we really need to leave the relationship as a whole alone.
Here's what I mean: I am someone who very much likes to keep things even and fair. Not necessarily in the sense of revenge and repaying wrongs, but in the sense that I can't stand feeling unequal in a relationship. I constantly worry that I make myself a burden to other people or that I rely too much on them. I make a big deal (to myself) out of making sure that I am supporting a friend just as much as he or she is supporting me. I hate feeling that the relationship weighs too heavily on my side (whether or not it ACTUALLY is that way). In short, I freak out about "repaying" people for kindness or care that they show to me because I have an intense fear of being seen as needy.
For this reason, I try to calculate my friendships. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it!
After a particularly bad night, I was texting back and forth with a close friend of mine about things that were on my mind. It was some pretty emotionally heavy stuff, and I began to worry that I was going too far and putting too much on this friend. I asked her point-blank if I was a burden to her, and she said something interesting to me. She said, "Because we are friends, your burdens are my burdens. But YOU are not a burden. We help each other. We're there for one another. Right now, it's your turn to lean on me. Somewhere down the line, it will be my turn to lean on you. Now stop your worrying and go to sleep."
I typed this response out on my computer and printed it so that I could tape it up on my wall because it's something that I need to constantly remind myself of. I need to just let things be and stop trying to figure them all out. I need to remember that relationships won't always be equal; that it's okay to let them lean one way or the other because LIFE leans one way or the other. I need to trust my friends. I need to trust MYSELF.
Conclusion: It's okay to calculate your bill before you reach the register. It's NOT okay to calculate your friends.
:)
I try to calculate everything.
How long it will take me to travel to a destination based on method of transportation.
How to do a homework assignment in the most efficient way possible.
How much food and/or calories I can get away with eating in a given day.
How to express myself in another language with perfect grammar (challenging) and without offending anyone.
How much time I can waste on the weekends while still leaving enough time to finish homework.
How to get what I want with the smallest amount of imposition on others.
How to get what I want with the least social interaction possible (for example: trying to find out information on a company's website instead of taking 2 minutes to call an employee and ask my question).
How to make people happy.
How to make myself happy.
Some of things are okay to calculate. A few are even very necessary in my life. Others...not so much. I really need to work on not calculating on the one about avoiding social interaction. It frustrates my mom to no end when I drive to say, a video store to see if they have a movie I need instead of just calling the store and asking over the phone.
I'm learning little by little that people and relationships should not be calculated. Certain elements of people and relationships CAN be calculated, such as just how much button-pushing a person can endure before they lose it, or which type of flowers are your sweetheart's favorite, but we really need to leave the relationship as a whole alone.
Here's what I mean: I am someone who very much likes to keep things even and fair. Not necessarily in the sense of revenge and repaying wrongs, but in the sense that I can't stand feeling unequal in a relationship. I constantly worry that I make myself a burden to other people or that I rely too much on them. I make a big deal (to myself) out of making sure that I am supporting a friend just as much as he or she is supporting me. I hate feeling that the relationship weighs too heavily on my side (whether or not it ACTUALLY is that way). In short, I freak out about "repaying" people for kindness or care that they show to me because I have an intense fear of being seen as needy.
For this reason, I try to calculate my friendships. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it!
After a particularly bad night, I was texting back and forth with a close friend of mine about things that were on my mind. It was some pretty emotionally heavy stuff, and I began to worry that I was going too far and putting too much on this friend. I asked her point-blank if I was a burden to her, and she said something interesting to me. She said, "Because we are friends, your burdens are my burdens. But YOU are not a burden. We help each other. We're there for one another. Right now, it's your turn to lean on me. Somewhere down the line, it will be my turn to lean on you. Now stop your worrying and go to sleep."
I typed this response out on my computer and printed it so that I could tape it up on my wall because it's something that I need to constantly remind myself of. I need to just let things be and stop trying to figure them all out. I need to remember that relationships won't always be equal; that it's okay to let them lean one way or the other because LIFE leans one way or the other. I need to trust my friends. I need to trust MYSELF.
Conclusion: It's okay to calculate your bill before you reach the register. It's NOT okay to calculate your friends.
:)
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Valió la Pena, Parte IV: An Indictment of All the People Who Ever Told You That You Couldn't Do Something
Wow, it's been quite awhile since I made a post to this blog. In that time, I have...
- had a birthday. woo hoo 22!
- made several new friends in this apartment and in classes.
- gotten hooked on several new television shows instead of doing homework
- started taking Cymbalta. I like to think of each pill as a stone in my sling against my giant.
- begun a education class "lab" at Burton Middle School.
So let's talk some more about this "lab." We are supposed to work with the students in the after-school program for 2 hours and create activities that promote literacy. The 30 students in the two EDUC 307 classes are spread out over the five days of the school week between Burton MS and Martin Luther King School. So far, at the end of a week and a half in our schools, the results range from "phenomenal success" to "Is that a plane I see crashing and burning on the ground?"
My partner Liz and I have found ourselves closer to the "phenomenal success" side of the spectrum. The first week was a bit chaotic because we didn't really know what was expected of us in terms of activities, perceived authority, and the fact that we were split up in different classes. Liz actually managed to get some stuff done with her students, but my students were pretty set on playing Guesstures for most of the class time. Nevertheless, I was able to learn a few of their names, hear about what they like to do, and get wild and crazy with the charades.
This week, things went MUCH more smoothly. Liz and I planned activities that would be engaging and interesting for the 6th graders that I worked with last week with the understanding that we would both stay in the 6th grade class. After two hours of word searches, math homework, Red Light Green Light, a game where each student had to ask questions and guess the name of the animal that was written on a card taped to his or her back, a dramatic/hysterical reading and acting out of The Frog Prince, and a game of Princess (formerly known as Hangman) where the princess neither dies nor gets injured, we decided that the afternoon was a success as far as literacy goes.
Miss Pat, the coordinator for the 6th graders, told us that she was very impressed with the organization, effort, and enthusiasm that the Calvin students have been bringing to the after-school program. For those that aren't familiar with Grand Rapids (or at least, its education system), Burton MS is what would be considered an inner-city school. Furthermore, the ethnic makeup of each class is predominantly African-American and Hispanic, which is a reflection of the population of that area of the city. There is not a single Caucasian student in our 6th grade after-school class. Families of Burton MS are on the lower end of the financial spectrum, and many are living below the poverty level.
An interesting factor that I hadn't given much thought to when we had "orientation" for our lab was the fact that the Burton MS area has a high Spanish-speaking population. And I'm a Spanish MAJOR! I didn't even consider what that would mean or how that would be manifested in a classroom. This week, when Liz and I were introducing ourselves, I mentioned that I was going to college to become a Spanish teacher. One of the other coordinators asked if I spoke Spanish, and I replied with
“SÃ, hablo español. Vivà en España el semestre pasado por cuatro meses y medio con una familia española, asà que fue una experiencia de inmersión. Aprendà la mayorÃa de mi español allÃ, especialmente la conversación. Si ustedes creen que pueden hablar en español para evitar que los maestros no les entiendan y se confundan, no olviden que yo también hablo español.” (Yes, I speak Spanish. I lived in Spain last semester for 4 and a half months with a Spanish family, so it was kind of an immersion experience. I learned the majority of my Spanish there, especially conversation. If you guys think that you can speak in Spanish so that your teachers can't understand you and get confused, don't forget that I speak Spanish too.)
- had a birthday. woo hoo 22!
- made several new friends in this apartment and in classes.
- gotten hooked on several new television shows instead of doing homework
- started taking Cymbalta. I like to think of each pill as a stone in my sling against my giant.
- begun a education class "lab" at Burton Middle School.
So let's talk some more about this "lab." We are supposed to work with the students in the after-school program for 2 hours and create activities that promote literacy. The 30 students in the two EDUC 307 classes are spread out over the five days of the school week between Burton MS and Martin Luther King School. So far, at the end of a week and a half in our schools, the results range from "phenomenal success" to "Is that a plane I see crashing and burning on the ground?"
My partner Liz and I have found ourselves closer to the "phenomenal success" side of the spectrum. The first week was a bit chaotic because we didn't really know what was expected of us in terms of activities, perceived authority, and the fact that we were split up in different classes. Liz actually managed to get some stuff done with her students, but my students were pretty set on playing Guesstures for most of the class time. Nevertheless, I was able to learn a few of their names, hear about what they like to do, and get wild and crazy with the charades.
This week, things went MUCH more smoothly. Liz and I planned activities that would be engaging and interesting for the 6th graders that I worked with last week with the understanding that we would both stay in the 6th grade class. After two hours of word searches, math homework, Red Light Green Light, a game where each student had to ask questions and guess the name of the animal that was written on a card taped to his or her back, a dramatic/hysterical reading and acting out of The Frog Prince, and a game of Princess (formerly known as Hangman) where the princess neither dies nor gets injured, we decided that the afternoon was a success as far as literacy goes.
Miss Pat, the coordinator for the 6th graders, told us that she was very impressed with the organization, effort, and enthusiasm that the Calvin students have been bringing to the after-school program. For those that aren't familiar with Grand Rapids (or at least, its education system), Burton MS is what would be considered an inner-city school. Furthermore, the ethnic makeup of each class is predominantly African-American and Hispanic, which is a reflection of the population of that area of the city. There is not a single Caucasian student in our 6th grade after-school class. Families of Burton MS are on the lower end of the financial spectrum, and many are living below the poverty level.
An interesting factor that I hadn't given much thought to when we had "orientation" for our lab was the fact that the Burton MS area has a high Spanish-speaking population. And I'm a Spanish MAJOR! I didn't even consider what that would mean or how that would be manifested in a classroom. This week, when Liz and I were introducing ourselves, I mentioned that I was going to college to become a Spanish teacher. One of the other coordinators asked if I spoke Spanish, and I replied with
“SÃ, hablo español. Vivà en España el semestre pasado por cuatro meses y medio con una familia española, asà que fue una experiencia de inmersión. Aprendà la mayorÃa de mi español allÃ, especialmente la conversación. Si ustedes creen que pueden hablar en español para evitar que los maestros no les entiendan y se confundan, no olviden que yo también hablo español.” (Yes, I speak Spanish. I lived in Spain last semester for 4 and a half months with a Spanish family, so it was kind of an immersion experience. I learned the majority of my Spanish there, especially conversation. If you guys think that you can speak in Spanish so that your teachers can't understand you and get confused, don't forget that I speak Spanish too.)
After that, there was sort of a power shift. I have a feeling that with some of the teachers, the students have a slice of power when it comes to language. They can speak a language that their teachers and other students don't understand, which means that they have a small piece of control in a situation where they typically wouldn't have control. Now that they know that I speak Spanish, I'm hoping that they will be discouraged from misbehaving. I already got a chance to test out this theory when one of the boys turned to his neighbor and told him he thought that our activity was dumb. I asked him, in Spanish, why he thought the activity was dumb, and he backed down from accusation.
I'm also hoping that my Spanish can become a bridge to the students that we otherwise may not have been able to reach. While the students were working on a word search, I sat down with a few of the girls and started talking to them in Spanish. I asked if they'd be interested in doing bilingual activities if we could work in teams of English and Spanish speakers. Even though Burton MS is a bilingual school (signs and information are dispensed in both languages), the curriculum is not necessarily taught in both languages. They said they'd LOVE that because they don't get a chance to speak Spanish at school in class. One of the girls told me that she's not very good at language arts in English, which makes me wonder if language arts in Spanish would better showcase her strengths. I have to work toward promoting literacy in the Spanish content area anyway, so I think this would be a great way to do that. Our overall goal is to show the students that they each have a subject are that they are skilled in, and we just have to find that subject.
Sadly, most of our students are not expected to go to college, and even in 6th grade, they're aware of that fact. I was working with one of the boys on his math homework and I had to confess to him that I didn't know how to answer one of the questions. He said, "Come on, don't you have math class in college?" And I replied by saying that I hadn't taken any math since high school because I didn't need to take math in college for my program. He was astounded. He said he didn't like math, and I said, "well hopefully when you get to college, you won't have to take math either. You can choose a major that doesn't have ANYTHING to do with math!" and he just looked at me.
--"When I get to college?"
"Yeah, after high school."
--"What do you mean? I don't think I'm going to college."
"Well, why not?"
--"Because it's too expensive."
"Well, lots of colleges offer scholarships, which is free money that you can get based on your grades from high school, or for practicing a certain skill, or even for having a Hispanic background, like you!"
--"I still don't think I can go. I'll have to work and make money, like my parents. They work a lot. That's why I have to be here instead of at home after school."
"Did you know that lots of college offer jobs to students that are right nearby? You can take classes and work like 10 hours a week too. That's what I do. You can also take loans out, where you pay the money back later after you graduate and get a job. Got any more reasons to not go to college?"
--". . . . . . . . . . . I'm not smart enough. No one from my family has ever gone to college."
"Who told you you weren't smart enough?"
--"My dad."
"Josue, do you WANT to go to college? If there was nothing stopping you, would you go?"
--"Well, yeah. I don't want to be a car mechanic."
"Then there's nothing stopping you. You are smart. You can get scholarships. You can get a part-time job. You can get help with school when you need it. You can do anything you decide you want to do. You know why? Because I believe in you."
--"Really?"
"Really. Now let's ask Jesse if he understands this math problem and maybe he can help us."
Even if these kids forget that Liz and I came and played games with them and acted like animals and made general fools of ourselves, I hope that they will remember that two people believed in them and told them that they could do anything.
To me, that is what teaching is all about.
Sadly, most of our students are not expected to go to college, and even in 6th grade, they're aware of that fact. I was working with one of the boys on his math homework and I had to confess to him that I didn't know how to answer one of the questions. He said, "Come on, don't you have math class in college?" And I replied by saying that I hadn't taken any math since high school because I didn't need to take math in college for my program. He was astounded. He said he didn't like math, and I said, "well hopefully when you get to college, you won't have to take math either. You can choose a major that doesn't have ANYTHING to do with math!" and he just looked at me.
--"When I get to college?"
"Yeah, after high school."
--"What do you mean? I don't think I'm going to college."
"Well, why not?"
--"Because it's too expensive."
"Well, lots of colleges offer scholarships, which is free money that you can get based on your grades from high school, or for practicing a certain skill, or even for having a Hispanic background, like you!"
--"I still don't think I can go. I'll have to work and make money, like my parents. They work a lot. That's why I have to be here instead of at home after school."
"Did you know that lots of college offer jobs to students that are right nearby? You can take classes and work like 10 hours a week too. That's what I do. You can also take loans out, where you pay the money back later after you graduate and get a job. Got any more reasons to not go to college?"
--". . . . . . . . . . . I'm not smart enough. No one from my family has ever gone to college."
"Who told you you weren't smart enough?"
--"My dad."
"Josue, do you WANT to go to college? If there was nothing stopping you, would you go?"
--"Well, yeah. I don't want to be a car mechanic."
"Then there's nothing stopping you. You are smart. You can get scholarships. You can get a part-time job. You can get help with school when you need it. You can do anything you decide you want to do. You know why? Because I believe in you."
--"Really?"
"Really. Now let's ask Jesse if he understands this math problem and maybe he can help us."
Even if these kids forget that Liz and I came and played games with them and acted like animals and made general fools of ourselves, I hope that they will remember that two people believed in them and told them that they could do anything.
To me, that is what teaching is all about.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Sandcastles
A wise person told me once that if you're feeling stressed out, upset, or worthless, you should go play with children.
Tonight, I was on the new beach deck (gorgeous, by the way) and I was looking out over the lake and the coming sunset and the people that were sitting or playing on the beach (and the crazies that were in the water swimming), and I saw two of my favorite (well, really, they're ALL my favorite) staff kids playing down in the sand. Blaze, 7, and Isaiah, 5, were constructing a HUGE structure that can only be considered a sand fortress. It had a big ole wall with towers every few inches, a giant hole in the middle with an island and a "flag" (read: long piece of dead dune grass), and the hole had an island in the middle. I asked Blaze if he wanted to fill in the area around the island and make it like a lake, but he said that it actually wasn't an island, but a mountain coming out of a valley. They put me to work smoothing out the land and putting more towers on the interior of the fortress. Once I'd filled all of that in, we decided we wanted a lake outside the fortress. So Blaze and I set to work digging out a hole in which to pour bucketfuls of water while Isaiah outfitted the outer walls with smaller towers. I'm telling you, this thing was the most secure sandcastle in the entire world.
I taught Blaze how if you dig down far enough, you'll find water, and that's how you know that you can fill in your hole with water and it won't soak in. He thought this was so cool and wanted to dig a bunch of other holes, but I said that we should just focus on this one. We raced back and forth between our hole and the shore to get more water, giggling the whole time. No sooner had a turned my back to get more water when I heard a loud splash. Blaze had jumped into his little hole and his entire body filled it up. He had the BIGGEST grin on his face and I knew he was having so much fun. Isaiah was still working on his towers and shaking his head with a smile on his face, as if he was the older, wiser brother.
It was at this moment that I realized why playing with children was the cure for stress and sadness. Kids are still able to use their imaginations to see a world with no problems. They don't worry about the little things. For instance, I managed to get a lot of wet sand on my shorts, and when I mentioned this to Isaiah, he simply said, "It's okay! It's just sand! Put them in the laundry and your mom will wash them for you!" This made me laugh a LOT. Kids are just so funny, especially these two.
I wish my life now was as easy and carefree as it was when I was their age. Blaze's biggest worry this evening was the fact that the walls of our "lake" were caving in from the water in it. My biggest worry is paying for college. Isaiah's biggest worry was not having enough towers around the outside of the fortress. My biggest worry is never finding someone who will marry me. Getting a job after graduation. Figuring out how to keep my closest friends in my life while we get pulled in different directions. No comparison, eh?
I'm happy to say that for 1 hour and 7 minutes, I was able to forget everything that was on my mind and just build sandcastles. And even though I was running around and all over the place with those two, it was the most rested I've felt in a loooooooong time. Ironic, right? Never underestimate the power of time spent with children.
Tonight, I was on the new beach deck (gorgeous, by the way) and I was looking out over the lake and the coming sunset and the people that were sitting or playing on the beach (and the crazies that were in the water swimming), and I saw two of my favorite (well, really, they're ALL my favorite) staff kids playing down in the sand. Blaze, 7, and Isaiah, 5, were constructing a HUGE structure that can only be considered a sand fortress. It had a big ole wall with towers every few inches, a giant hole in the middle with an island and a "flag" (read: long piece of dead dune grass), and the hole had an island in the middle. I asked Blaze if he wanted to fill in the area around the island and make it like a lake, but he said that it actually wasn't an island, but a mountain coming out of a valley. They put me to work smoothing out the land and putting more towers on the interior of the fortress. Once I'd filled all of that in, we decided we wanted a lake outside the fortress. So Blaze and I set to work digging out a hole in which to pour bucketfuls of water while Isaiah outfitted the outer walls with smaller towers. I'm telling you, this thing was the most secure sandcastle in the entire world.
I taught Blaze how if you dig down far enough, you'll find water, and that's how you know that you can fill in your hole with water and it won't soak in. He thought this was so cool and wanted to dig a bunch of other holes, but I said that we should just focus on this one. We raced back and forth between our hole and the shore to get more water, giggling the whole time. No sooner had a turned my back to get more water when I heard a loud splash. Blaze had jumped into his little hole and his entire body filled it up. He had the BIGGEST grin on his face and I knew he was having so much fun. Isaiah was still working on his towers and shaking his head with a smile on his face, as if he was the older, wiser brother.
It was at this moment that I realized why playing with children was the cure for stress and sadness. Kids are still able to use their imaginations to see a world with no problems. They don't worry about the little things. For instance, I managed to get a lot of wet sand on my shorts, and when I mentioned this to Isaiah, he simply said, "It's okay! It's just sand! Put them in the laundry and your mom will wash them for you!" This made me laugh a LOT. Kids are just so funny, especially these two.
I wish my life now was as easy and carefree as it was when I was their age. Blaze's biggest worry this evening was the fact that the walls of our "lake" were caving in from the water in it. My biggest worry is paying for college. Isaiah's biggest worry was not having enough towers around the outside of the fortress. My biggest worry is never finding someone who will marry me. Getting a job after graduation. Figuring out how to keep my closest friends in my life while we get pulled in different directions. No comparison, eh?
I'm happy to say that for 1 hour and 7 minutes, I was able to forget everything that was on my mind and just build sandcastles. And even though I was running around and all over the place with those two, it was the most rested I've felt in a loooooooong time. Ironic, right? Never underestimate the power of time spent with children.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Isaiah 40:29
So I'm going to do something that I haven't really done with this blog yet...write entirely about myself.
Usually I try to disguise writing about myself by adding funny anecdotes or doing the post in a unique way, but today, I have no funny or uniqueness.
I am tired. And I have been tired for a long time. People that know me know that I am in no way a morning person. But some days I feel like I never really wake up. You know that feeling when you wake up but don't feel rested? Getting going is a little slow, and you feel foggy for a little while? There are days when I have that all day. Not really conducive to teaching Bible School and being wild and crazy, wouldn't ya say?
Somehow, God always knows when I need strength and He gives it to me right when I need it. 8:00am-9:45am is probably my most sleepy time of the day. For Tuesday through Friday, that means Staff Devotions and Bible School prep time. Some days I just walk around like I'm in a haze, trying to plan the lesson and organize materials and do all the other stuff. But God knows just when to give me that strength I need. The garage door goes up at 9:45, the kids are all waiting, and it's like He's pulled a switch on my energy. I have the strength to be wild and crazy, play games in line with the kids, sing and do motions during the song time, teach the lesson with patience and charisma, and, basically, act like I'm not tired. Only on God's strength. Certainly not my own.
There are still a few days where I don't feel energized during Bible School, but I know that those are the days where I have to trust the other teachers to carry the lesson or activity, which is something else that I have had to learn to do this summer. Two of my teachers are new staff members, and it's easy for me to hand the simpler stuff off to them (like the Bible verse or rules for a game) and take the lesson upon myself. But God is teaching me that there will be days when I simply can't do it all by myself and that I have to trust them to do just as good of a job.
"He gives strength to the weary and lends His power to the weak." (Isaiah 40:29).
And that's a promise. :)
Usually I try to disguise writing about myself by adding funny anecdotes or doing the post in a unique way, but today, I have no funny or uniqueness.
I am tired. And I have been tired for a long time. People that know me know that I am in no way a morning person. But some days I feel like I never really wake up. You know that feeling when you wake up but don't feel rested? Getting going is a little slow, and you feel foggy for a little while? There are days when I have that all day. Not really conducive to teaching Bible School and being wild and crazy, wouldn't ya say?
Somehow, God always knows when I need strength and He gives it to me right when I need it. 8:00am-9:45am is probably my most sleepy time of the day. For Tuesday through Friday, that means Staff Devotions and Bible School prep time. Some days I just walk around like I'm in a haze, trying to plan the lesson and organize materials and do all the other stuff. But God knows just when to give me that strength I need. The garage door goes up at 9:45, the kids are all waiting, and it's like He's pulled a switch on my energy. I have the strength to be wild and crazy, play games in line with the kids, sing and do motions during the song time, teach the lesson with patience and charisma, and, basically, act like I'm not tired. Only on God's strength. Certainly not my own.
There are still a few days where I don't feel energized during Bible School, but I know that those are the days where I have to trust the other teachers to carry the lesson or activity, which is something else that I have had to learn to do this summer. Two of my teachers are new staff members, and it's easy for me to hand the simpler stuff off to them (like the Bible verse or rules for a game) and take the lesson upon myself. But God is teaching me that there will be days when I simply can't do it all by myself and that I have to trust them to do just as good of a job.
"He gives strength to the weary and lends His power to the weak." (Isaiah 40:29).
And that's a promise. :)
Friday, June 24, 2011
"And the breastplate of righteousness in place..."
Any guesses on what our item of spiritual armor is this week in Bible School? :)
This week, our kids had a bit of trouble understanding what righteousness actually is (it didn't help that they were CRAZYTOWN and all over the place) so toward the end of the week, we focused more on the fact that God gives us a metaphorical breastplate in order to protect us. We talked about how God protects us spiritually earlier in the week and how He helps us to do the right thing and be an example to other people earlier in the week. Today, we talked about how God protects our hearts from the things that scare us or things that we are having a hard time with.
Kids carry around more burdens than what we give them credit for, I think. They seem so carefree and innocent, but they have things that weigh on their minds too. It's harder for them, though, because they don't always understand that these bad things are no one's fault (most of the time). They take so much responsibility onto themselves and along with it, blame.
This is a conversation I had with a 4th grader in my class last year. His parents were splitting up and his dad wasn't even trying to get custody of him and his brother.
Me: "Cameron, what's wrong?"
Cameron: "My mom just told me that she and my dad aren't going to married anymore and that he's moving far away."
Me: "Aw Cameron, that's really sad. Did your mom tell you where your dad is moving to? You'll still get to see him, right?"
Cameron: "No. He's moving away because he doesn't love me or Jackson anymore."
Me: "I'm sure that's not true. Is that what he said to you?"
Cameron: "No, but why else would he want to move away?"
While we were planning today's lesson, I was struck by a God-bolt of inspiration. We cut out two vaguely breastplate-shaped pieces of poster board, split our class into girls and boys, and then we handed out post-it notes and markers to each person. We asked them to write down something that scares them, or that they are having a hard time with, or something they're anxious about, or something that their family is worried about right now.
"I'm afraid my grandma might die soon."
"My dad lost his job this year."
"My uncle lives in Texas."
"I have to move to a new school."
"My grandpa had back surgery."
"My teacher won't be at my school next year."
"My family went to the house across the street without me." (We couldn't figure out exactly what this one meant. It could be that they went to visit the people across the street, but it's also possible that the family split up or had to get foster care involved).
Then, we had each kid put their post-it on the breastplate. I told my girls that even though all of these things seem really big and really scary right now while they're happening, God has always and will always bring them through safely to the other side of the situation. I wrote "God protects me and loves me" in big letters over all the post-its on the breastplate to show that no matter what happens, God's breastplate of righteousness will always protect our hearts and that He is always looking out for us.
At the beginning of the summer, I was seriously considering switching to the 4s-5s-Kindergartners class, just for a change of pace. I've done 3rd-4th for the last two summers and I thought it would be interesting to work with the little kids that we get.
I'm really glad I didn't switch. :)
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Americana Tonta: The Plight of the Foreigner
It took me a long time to realize that I couldn't effectively defend myself, my choices, my attitudes, and my beliefs to my host family and other Spanish people I came into contact with last semester.
It took me even longer to realize that I should stop trying and that it wasn't worth it to get frustrated.
Spain is way different from America. Duh. Here's what I'm focusing on: tact and expression.
When I was growing up, my parents taught me that it is not okay to say out loud whatever you are thinking. It's okay to think what you want, but saying rude things is not polite. Yeah, you might not like that person's haircut, or that outfit might make that person look ugly, or you may notice that that person is very overweight. But you don't SAY those things to their face, or to other people.
It's a bit different in Spain. People tend to be very blunt there, saying exactly what they think, not worrying about what others will think. And it works for them: words don't offend there as easily as they can here. They're not afraid to discuss anything or to say exactly what they think about it. You know how in the States we tend to stay away from discussing polarized topics like politics and religion in groups of people that we don't know very well? It's because we don't want to offend anyone and create a bad impression.
Now, it's not that this doesn't ring true in Spain; it's that Spaniards don't take offense at others' opinions. Everyone can blast their opinion in whatever forum about any topic they wish. It's kind of an inalienable right.
It took me a really long time to get used to this. For the first couple of months, I had the impression that all Spaniards are very rude and need to take a class or two about tactful interaction. But as I listened to/observed more conversations between Spanish women, I came to realize that they don't take offense. They dish it out and they take it like champs. The concept of what is considered rude in Spain is entirely different from what it is in the States. It was really hard to get used to at first and I had to actively ignore the things that were offending me. "Shake it off, don't take it personally" is what one of the girls here always said. I had to learn how to let people say and think what they would about me and keep it on the outside. Letting it sink into my mind and heart started to break me down and I wouldn't have survived. In a way, I became kind of hardened in Spain, but at the time, it was necessary. If I hadn't, I probably would have fallen apart.
The hardest part about living in another language is the inability to express oneself. It's easy to tell someone what emotion you're experiencing at a given time, but it's hard to explain why. I mean, that's hard in your native language sometimes! It's also incredibly hard to argue in another language. Arguing is a pretty complex process: you have to clearly state a point, think on your feet to rebutt the point, and in general, speak concisely and quickly. Doing all of that is very difficult in a language you're just starting to master. We began to discover that in 9 times out of 10, it's easier (and less frustrating) to simply agree and let it be. We would get nowhere in trying to argue with our host families regarding our actions, attitudes, or beliefs. We could never convince them otherwise because our Spanish wasn't quick enough. And we had to be okay with that. It was very humbling to know that we couldn't always stand up for ourselves; that we had to give in on a daily basis. That we couldn't always have the upper hand and the control.
Returning to the States has made me wonder how often we turn this mentality onto the non-native English speakers in our country. In Spain, we couldn't prove how much we knew and how intelligent we KNEW we were because we didn't know the words. In class, we could have had an entire argument mapped out in our heads, but we couldn't verbalize it. That's part of the reason the OPI was so nerve-wracking. I understood the questions perfectly, knew exactly what I wanted to say, but it was hard to put it into Spanish words quickly and effectively.
Now why do we do this to immigrants? All too often, we assume that they are unintelligent or lazy because their English is not very good and we can't understand them. The immigrant you see at the Secretary of State's office struggling to make the clerk understand that he wants to apply for a driver's license might be a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher in his home country. But we assume otherwise simply because he can't prove his intelligence to us.
Being on the other side opened my eyes. Immigration was a topic close to my heart before going to Spain, and after returning, I understand their struggles (at least a few of them) more intimately. Please remember some of what I've written the next time you encounter an immigrant.
Have compassion.
It took me even longer to realize that I should stop trying and that it wasn't worth it to get frustrated.
Spain is way different from America. Duh. Here's what I'm focusing on: tact and expression.
When I was growing up, my parents taught me that it is not okay to say out loud whatever you are thinking. It's okay to think what you want, but saying rude things is not polite. Yeah, you might not like that person's haircut, or that outfit might make that person look ugly, or you may notice that that person is very overweight. But you don't SAY those things to their face, or to other people.
It's a bit different in Spain. People tend to be very blunt there, saying exactly what they think, not worrying about what others will think. And it works for them: words don't offend there as easily as they can here. They're not afraid to discuss anything or to say exactly what they think about it. You know how in the States we tend to stay away from discussing polarized topics like politics and religion in groups of people that we don't know very well? It's because we don't want to offend anyone and create a bad impression.
Now, it's not that this doesn't ring true in Spain; it's that Spaniards don't take offense at others' opinions. Everyone can blast their opinion in whatever forum about any topic they wish. It's kind of an inalienable right.
It took me a really long time to get used to this. For the first couple of months, I had the impression that all Spaniards are very rude and need to take a class or two about tactful interaction. But as I listened to/observed more conversations between Spanish women, I came to realize that they don't take offense. They dish it out and they take it like champs. The concept of what is considered rude in Spain is entirely different from what it is in the States. It was really hard to get used to at first and I had to actively ignore the things that were offending me. "Shake it off, don't take it personally" is what one of the girls here always said. I had to learn how to let people say and think what they would about me and keep it on the outside. Letting it sink into my mind and heart started to break me down and I wouldn't have survived. In a way, I became kind of hardened in Spain, but at the time, it was necessary. If I hadn't, I probably would have fallen apart.
The hardest part about living in another language is the inability to express oneself. It's easy to tell someone what emotion you're experiencing at a given time, but it's hard to explain why. I mean, that's hard in your native language sometimes! It's also incredibly hard to argue in another language. Arguing is a pretty complex process: you have to clearly state a point, think on your feet to rebutt the point, and in general, speak concisely and quickly. Doing all of that is very difficult in a language you're just starting to master. We began to discover that in 9 times out of 10, it's easier (and less frustrating) to simply agree and let it be. We would get nowhere in trying to argue with our host families regarding our actions, attitudes, or beliefs. We could never convince them otherwise because our Spanish wasn't quick enough. And we had to be okay with that. It was very humbling to know that we couldn't always stand up for ourselves; that we had to give in on a daily basis. That we couldn't always have the upper hand and the control.
Returning to the States has made me wonder how often we turn this mentality onto the non-native English speakers in our country. In Spain, we couldn't prove how much we knew and how intelligent we KNEW we were because we didn't know the words. In class, we could have had an entire argument mapped out in our heads, but we couldn't verbalize it. That's part of the reason the OPI was so nerve-wracking. I understood the questions perfectly, knew exactly what I wanted to say, but it was hard to put it into Spanish words quickly and effectively.
Now why do we do this to immigrants? All too often, we assume that they are unintelligent or lazy because their English is not very good and we can't understand them. The immigrant you see at the Secretary of State's office struggling to make the clerk understand that he wants to apply for a driver's license might be a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher in his home country. But we assume otherwise simply because he can't prove his intelligence to us.
Being on the other side opened my eyes. Immigration was a topic close to my heart before going to Spain, and after returning, I understand their struggles (at least a few of them) more intimately. Please remember some of what I've written the next time you encounter an immigrant.
Have compassion.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Living with Lions
(This is taken from my Facebook and is a good summary of my time in Spain)
I have a feeling that Daniel and I would have gotten along pretty well.
Daniel was probably in his teenage years, early twenties at the most, when he was made to move to Babylon. The King of Babylon decided that Daniel should be trained in his palace and he was forced to leave behind his parents, his friends, his hometown, everything that was comfortable and known. He was chosen along with three other guys, but I’m sure he still felt very much alone.
The 24 of us that left our hometowns and everything known have been in a similar situation. Of course, we were not uprooted by the King of Babylon, and some would say that we knew what we were getting ourselves into, but we still know how it feels. To leave everything behind: parents, brothers, sisters, friends, boyfriends and girlfriends, families, teams, jobs, activities, school…everything we once knew. Leaving it all for a new country, a new family, a new school, a new culture, a new language, and a new way of life. We’ve attended the orientation, we’ve read the literature, we’ve been studying Spanish for years, we’ve done whatever we could think of in order to prepare…but nothing really prepares you for going abroad.
I remember sitting in the airport in Chicago with my sketchbook open on my lap, writing, ”This is it. I can’t turn back. We’re past security, our passports and visas have been checked and stamped, there is no turning back. It doesn’t feel real yet, though.” We boarded our plane, stashed our bags, and took our seats. The flight attendants demonstrated the proper safety procedures and walked up and down the aisles asking everyone to put their tray tables up and to ensure that their seats were in the upright position. The plane began to taxi toward the runway, and the pilot asked over the loudspeaker that we turn off all electronic devices in preparation for takeoff. Cameras, iPods, laptops, video games….and cell phones. That is where it became real. Turning off our cell phones meant the end of our connection with the United States and everything we knew.
I am convinced that nothing can really prepare a person for living and studying abroad. You can read up on the culture, practice the language, and speak with others who have gone abroad, but nothing will prepare you for the feeling of being alone. That first night living with your host family? One of the most awful nights of my life. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into and I wanted to hop a plane back to the States immediately.
Not to worry, the experience has improved since that first night. Some days are worse than others, but that is to be expected. I am of the opinion that the group of people that you go abroad with will make or break the experience. In our case, the group has made it. I feel that we have become a family. We look out for each other and take care of each other. We have to. We are all we have.
I sure hope that Daniel and the three other guys were able to bond as much as we have. Being away from home is by no means easy, but having a support system to lean on when things get tough makes it easier. They make the time go faster.
Sometimes, being here in Spain has felt kind of like being in a lion’s den. Except instead of being trapped with literal lions, like Daniel was, we are trapped with our own emotions. It’s funny how when you feel like you’re alone, the situation gets exponentially worse. I don’t speak for everyone here. Some have been having the time of their lives; others have more lions in their den than they can count.
It’s an interesting thing, this lion’s den. We were thrown in, but we are by no means trapped, as Daniel was. I have stood at the door of my den many times, planning to leave it and go back home. God kept me here, though, and often worked overtime to do so. In the same way that He had a plan for Daniel in the literal den of lions, He has a plan for each of us here in Spain. And while He works on carrying out His plan, he has shut the mouths of our lions: fear, loneliness, frustration, exhaustion, anxiety, depression, sadness…you name the emotion, and one of us has probably experienced it here. But “experienced” is the key word: we have felt it, but we have not been overcome by it. The literal lions probably had every intention of devouring Daniel. That was, after all, their job. But God shut their mouths and kept Daniel safe.
And He has promised the same thing to us. “Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.” Never will I let your lions overcome you.
Studying abroad is 2% schoolwork and 98% teamwork. We went from 24 students from 24 backgrounds, to classmates, to friends, to a family. We look out for each other, we support each other, we care for each other, we throw each other into the Mediterranean Sea, we encourage each other, and we pray for each other.
The team is what kept me here these past 108 days. Whenever I would look out of my lion’s den, I would think, I actually could leave. I could really leave, right now, nothing is keeping me here. But that wasn’t true. The team was keeping me here. I didn’t want to give up on them; they had not given up on me. God always gave me the strength to turn back to the den and face the lions, and I am convinced that He will continue to lend me His strength.
To all of my Spain classmates: You are all awesome. I wasn’t so sure about some of you at the beginning, but I have come to love all of you. Even if we aren’t the closest of friends here, I honestly cannot imagine the semester without you. We have made it through 108 days, and we will make it through 26 more. We’re doing it.
To my girls: Thanks for keeping me here. Thank you for your encouragement, prayers, well-timed hugs, and laughs. Thank you for sitting in the lion’s den with me. I hope that I have been at least half the blessing to you as you have been to me.
“I always thank my God when I remember you in my prayers.” -Philemon 4
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