Working in Colombia is slowly redefining how I think of flexibility. It's pretty incredible how inconsistent things are around here. Indeed, the only things that seem particularly consistent are the kitchen on campus and the inconsistency of everything else. In particular, there hasn't been a week since I arrived here when at least one of my classes hasn't had to be rescheduled. Every week there's some sort of special seminar, or extra-curricular classes, or a field trip, or a building dedication (ok, that only happened once), or something else that makes it so I have to juggle classes. I feel silly writing how frustrating this can be, but honestly, this can be really frustrating. Between the students' busy schedule and mine, the only time to reschedule those classes ends up being at night or on Sunday. I end up teaching 7 days a week, or finding out half an hour before class that I suddenly have that day off. It's very different from my college experience, for sure, when if a class was cancelled for any reason, that was pretty much it, because getting everybody in the same place outside the regular time was like trying to catch all the mice in a hay field. Here, the students all live on campus, they all have the same class schedule (within a given group - there are 6 groups), and they all eat at the same place at the same time. Rescheduling a class can sometimes be as easy as standing in the dining hall and shouting the new class time. The students grumble (as do I, in my head) but they all show up, and that's that.
I'm glad I'm a volunteer, because if I was getting paid, I'm not sure it would be enough.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Teaching and spiders
I've been somewhat reticent as of late, regarding this blog. I swear, it's only partially my fault. For about two weeks we haven't had any internet access. That, and I also started teaching 3 weeks ago, which has kept me more than a little occupied. In fact, that's exactly what I want to write about today.
This is not the first time I've taught. I taught math in New Zealand, I taught "life" in New York, now I'm teaching English in Colombia. In truth, it's not a whole lot different, except that right now I have 6 classes of English level 1, almost 120 students, and an actual amount of information I'm responsible for conveying to those students. It keeps me on my toes, to say the least.
I enjoy the endeavor. Time in the classroom seems to disappear. One moment I'm checking attendance, the next I'm welcoming a new group of students and wondering how two hours have already passed. I feel a little crazy, in truth, like I'm living in the twilight zone. Twenty minutes pass for me, and two hours (well, I hope it's only two) for everybody else.
This side of the classroom is very different. We've had three weeks of class, and there are about ten remaining. My feeling, we've ALREADY had THREE WEEKS of class? And there is ONLY TEN LEFT??? I used to sit on the other side of the room and wonder how there could possibly still be ten weeks left of class. The semester seemed interminable. Now I find myself presenting material at what feels like breakneck speed to make sure everything gets done, and I wonder at the idea that we will somehow fit it all in. An interesting perspective, this side of the classroom.
Aside from the classroom, I find my Spanish progressing a little here and there, though certainly not in leaps and bounds. I understand more now than I did when I first arrived, but it doesn't always feel that way. Indeed, I hadn't really thought I understood more at all, until somebody I knew from Bogota happened to be in Yopal the other day. I realized how much easier our conversation is here than it had been there. Progress, but slow.
This place continues to enchant me, as well. The sky is different from what I'm used to, but beautiful all the same. There is no North Star, and I haven't been able to spot the Big Dipper, but Vega is still easy to find and Orion makes his appearance every night, albeit in a place I'm not used to looking. This place is very dark when the lights are off, and the stardust scattered across the sky reminds me of Montana.
Last weekend Brother MartÃn took me for a ride around the farm on horseback. It was blazing hot, but very interesting. The students here study agronomical engineering, so the fields are small, practical application laboratories. Most of the farm, however, is not tended by the students. Rather, very little is cultivated at all. The area is wild and used as range for the cattle kept here and tended by ranchers employed by the University. Jungle, meadow, streams and swamps govern an area roamed by free range stock. At one point we came across a small herd of horses that clearly weren't wild, but which I don't guess feel a saddle very often. They came to greet us, but kept a healthy distance, as well.
One thing I'm struggling with a little here is bugs. Spiders and mosquitoes, in particular, but occasionally others as well. To try to keep the number of mosquitoes in my room to a minimum I've made a point of not killing spiders - the web-making kind, anyway, and that's all fine and well. But.
Yesterday morning my foot had the unfortunate experience of finding a different kind of spider in my shoe. With it's legs spread out, it barely would have fit in the palm of my hand, and it clearly doesn't make webs. I didn't know what it was, at first, but it didn't belong in my shoe. I took my foot out (before I ever even got the shoe all the way on) and shook it upside down. Well, I saw something come out, but couldn't tell what it was. Then I looked all around and couldn't find it, so I figured it probably had been a large spider and had run away. Well, I was half right. Often one to learn practical lessons a little slower than I ought, I proceeded to put my shoes on. My left foot then encountered the same spider, because as soon as it hit the ground, without my even getting a look at it, it managed to flee INTO MY OTHER SHOE! Well, eventually that problem got taken care of, but this morning I found the exact same variety of spider clinging to my shower curtain. I haven't motivated myself to study for the GRE yet, but I have at least made good use of the book.
Anyway, I have plenty more to write, as always, but think that's probably enough for the moment. I need to finish writing some exams.
Feel free to leave comments or send me an e-mail.
Alex
This is not the first time I've taught. I taught math in New Zealand, I taught "life" in New York, now I'm teaching English in Colombia. In truth, it's not a whole lot different, except that right now I have 6 classes of English level 1, almost 120 students, and an actual amount of information I'm responsible for conveying to those students. It keeps me on my toes, to say the least.
I enjoy the endeavor. Time in the classroom seems to disappear. One moment I'm checking attendance, the next I'm welcoming a new group of students and wondering how two hours have already passed. I feel a little crazy, in truth, like I'm living in the twilight zone. Twenty minutes pass for me, and two hours (well, I hope it's only two) for everybody else.
This side of the classroom is very different. We've had three weeks of class, and there are about ten remaining. My feeling, we've ALREADY had THREE WEEKS of class? And there is ONLY TEN LEFT??? I used to sit on the other side of the room and wonder how there could possibly still be ten weeks left of class. The semester seemed interminable. Now I find myself presenting material at what feels like breakneck speed to make sure everything gets done, and I wonder at the idea that we will somehow fit it all in. An interesting perspective, this side of the classroom.
Aside from the classroom, I find my Spanish progressing a little here and there, though certainly not in leaps and bounds. I understand more now than I did when I first arrived, but it doesn't always feel that way. Indeed, I hadn't really thought I understood more at all, until somebody I knew from Bogota happened to be in Yopal the other day. I realized how much easier our conversation is here than it had been there. Progress, but slow.
This place continues to enchant me, as well. The sky is different from what I'm used to, but beautiful all the same. There is no North Star, and I haven't been able to spot the Big Dipper, but Vega is still easy to find and Orion makes his appearance every night, albeit in a place I'm not used to looking. This place is very dark when the lights are off, and the stardust scattered across the sky reminds me of Montana.
Last weekend Brother MartÃn took me for a ride around the farm on horseback. It was blazing hot, but very interesting. The students here study agronomical engineering, so the fields are small, practical application laboratories. Most of the farm, however, is not tended by the students. Rather, very little is cultivated at all. The area is wild and used as range for the cattle kept here and tended by ranchers employed by the University. Jungle, meadow, streams and swamps govern an area roamed by free range stock. At one point we came across a small herd of horses that clearly weren't wild, but which I don't guess feel a saddle very often. They came to greet us, but kept a healthy distance, as well.
One thing I'm struggling with a little here is bugs. Spiders and mosquitoes, in particular, but occasionally others as well. To try to keep the number of mosquitoes in my room to a minimum I've made a point of not killing spiders - the web-making kind, anyway, and that's all fine and well. But.
Yesterday morning my foot had the unfortunate experience of finding a different kind of spider in my shoe. With it's legs spread out, it barely would have fit in the palm of my hand, and it clearly doesn't make webs. I didn't know what it was, at first, but it didn't belong in my shoe. I took my foot out (before I ever even got the shoe all the way on) and shook it upside down. Well, I saw something come out, but couldn't tell what it was. Then I looked all around and couldn't find it, so I figured it probably had been a large spider and had run away. Well, I was half right. Often one to learn practical lessons a little slower than I ought, I proceeded to put my shoes on. My left foot then encountered the same spider, because as soon as it hit the ground, without my even getting a look at it, it managed to flee INTO MY OTHER SHOE! Well, eventually that problem got taken care of, but this morning I found the exact same variety of spider clinging to my shower curtain. I haven't motivated myself to study for the GRE yet, but I have at least made good use of the book.
Anyway, I have plenty more to write, as always, but think that's probably enough for the moment. I need to finish writing some exams.
Feel free to leave comments or send me an e-mail.
Alex
Sunday, August 26, 2012
School starts tomorrow
I'm not really sure what to say here, except that I feel it's important to say something. I spent a month in Bogota, I've spent a week in Yopal, and tomorrow is the first day of class. My lesson plans are ready, the students have arrived back on campus, and this is it. I should feel some kind of way, probably, trepidation or excitement or something, but honestly it kind of feels like tomorrow is just another day - nothing special. I guess tomorrow will tell.
On another note, I've been in Yopal for a week, and it's probably worth saying a few words about my initial experience here...
First things first, my Spanish is atrocious. If not for having the personal memory of the classes, I wouldn't believe that I studied this language from 7th through 11th grades. FIVE years of classes, and literally, I think I understand about 10% of what is said to me. This language thing will be an uphill battle, though it does conveniently remind me just how difficult and frustrating it can be to learn a language. Hopefully I can keep the feeling of frustration in mind (shouldn't be hard) as I teach English, that it might remind me to be patient and compassionate toward my students.
Perhaps the next thing of note is my roommates. Not traditional roommates. Bugs. There must be 50 species of insect living in my room with me. They're everywhere. I kill the mosquitoes, the really big bugs I relocate back outside, and the rest I just try to ignore. There's no way to keep them out because there's about a 4" gap between the top of the wall and the roof, so my room is literally open to the outside. They're especially concentrated in my bathroom for some reason, though I'll take that happily to having them concentrated in my bedroom. The best form of control I could think of was to make spiders my allies, so any spider that builds a web I'm not likely to run into in the dark by accident gets to stay. While brushing my teeth this morning, I counted 14 spiders in my bathroom. I must need to recruit some bigger spiders though, because during the same time I killed 6 mosquitoes.
On brighter notes, I'm enjoying living in the country. It's a very nice change of pace after living in Bogota for a month. There, I was forced every day to wonder, "Will today be the day I get hit by a bus?" Here, I have no such concerns. Fresh air, trees, breezes. It's a little warm, but I'll take that over the lung-searing smog of the city. This week in Yopal was a little boring because there weren't any students, but they've all arrived back from break now, so things are a bit more lively. It's a little funny to be back to school as a professor instead of a student. Everybody's moving back into their rooms and it kind of feels the same as when I was in college. I have to remind myself that these people are not my classmates, they're my students.
Anyway, that's all for now. As always, please feel free to leave a comment or send an email.
Oh, I almost forgot. I put up some photos of Yopal on picasa. Follow the link if you want to check 'em out (I should note that, as of publishing, some of those photos are still loading. If you only see 5ish, check back in about an hour for the other 10ish. My internet connection is nearly dial-up slow sometimes.)
Alex
On another note, I've been in Yopal for a week, and it's probably worth saying a few words about my initial experience here...
First things first, my Spanish is atrocious. If not for having the personal memory of the classes, I wouldn't believe that I studied this language from 7th through 11th grades. FIVE years of classes, and literally, I think I understand about 10% of what is said to me. This language thing will be an uphill battle, though it does conveniently remind me just how difficult and frustrating it can be to learn a language. Hopefully I can keep the feeling of frustration in mind (shouldn't be hard) as I teach English, that it might remind me to be patient and compassionate toward my students.
Perhaps the next thing of note is my roommates. Not traditional roommates. Bugs. There must be 50 species of insect living in my room with me. They're everywhere. I kill the mosquitoes, the really big bugs I relocate back outside, and the rest I just try to ignore. There's no way to keep them out because there's about a 4" gap between the top of the wall and the roof, so my room is literally open to the outside. They're especially concentrated in my bathroom for some reason, though I'll take that happily to having them concentrated in my bedroom. The best form of control I could think of was to make spiders my allies, so any spider that builds a web I'm not likely to run into in the dark by accident gets to stay. While brushing my teeth this morning, I counted 14 spiders in my bathroom. I must need to recruit some bigger spiders though, because during the same time I killed 6 mosquitoes.
On brighter notes, I'm enjoying living in the country. It's a very nice change of pace after living in Bogota for a month. There, I was forced every day to wonder, "Will today be the day I get hit by a bus?" Here, I have no such concerns. Fresh air, trees, breezes. It's a little warm, but I'll take that over the lung-searing smog of the city. This week in Yopal was a little boring because there weren't any students, but they've all arrived back from break now, so things are a bit more lively. It's a little funny to be back to school as a professor instead of a student. Everybody's moving back into their rooms and it kind of feels the same as when I was in college. I have to remind myself that these people are not my classmates, they're my students.
Anyway, that's all for now. As always, please feel free to leave a comment or send an email.
Oh, I almost forgot. I put up some photos of Yopal on picasa. Follow the link if you want to check 'em out (I should note that, as of publishing, some of those photos are still loading. If you only see 5ish, check back in about an hour for the other 10ish. My internet connection is nearly dial-up slow sometimes.)
Alex
Friday, August 10, 2012
What the River does
"If ever there were a connection among all people, it is the awe we feel in the face of moving water." - Eric Adsit for American Whitewater, January/February 2010 issue
What the River Does
The river sometimes crawls, sometimes runs,
Sometimes whispers, sometimes roars.
I have heard it sing
and I have seen it beat its fists.
The tiniest rivulet, the mightiest torrent,
these follow the same rules.
As one would leap, rush, and race to its destination,
so the other.
As one would curl, turn, or ripple,
so the other.
The river never hesitates to fall, nor balks at the mountains before it.
The river is not concerned with what lies ahead or behind.
The river does not care if you throw rocks at it or ride on its back.
The river need not think of who sits on its shores.
It is the quality and privilege of the river to be concerned with naught.
Rain or snow, sun or clouds, hot or cold,
these are inconsequential to the river.
Should it freeze, it simply waits for spring.
Should it run dry, it waits for rain.
Should it flow over, it patiently looks for the sun.
Should it boil, it can be assured of someday reaching the tranquility of the sea.
The river knows it is neither alone nor independent, yet
it concerns itself little with the affairs of what it cannot change.
It would rather reflect the sun and the moon, flow onward, and
rest assured that the future, though unpredictable, is inevitable.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Mi primera vez en Yopal (My first time in Yopal)
Part 1. Excitement. Joy. Right now might be the first time I have really felt these things since I came to Colombia. Not that I'm unhappy - by no means. It's just that most of the time I'm a little nervous and a little lost. But right now, this moment, is excellent. I'm on a tiny plane flying to Yopal for the first time - the place where I will spend my entire upcoming year, where I will teach my students and share in their lives. The people who know Yopal keep telling me the biggest danger is falling in love with it and never leaving. In this exact moment, as I see the Andes fading into foothills and foothills into the green sea of the central plains, I think maybe they could be telling the truth.
Part 2. The drive out to Utopia took about half an hour from the airport, not including the stop we made so Br. Carlos could buy Angela (another visitor to Utopia) and I rubber boots. Yopal is a city of about 150,000; but it doesn't feel that way at all. Something about these places, maybe the lack of any particularly tall buildings (?), makes them feel very small. But anyway. The drive out takes you down this one long road, Matepantano I think, away from the city. For a little while the road is paved, but it soon turns to dirt and rocks. Br. Carlos said "Bienvenido al mundo tercero. Welcome to the third world."
At first, it doesn't seem so different from many places in Montana. Barbed wire fences run along the road, separating it from the cows and from the crops. When a truck comes down the road the other way, you slow down, move over, and roll up the windows. Then you suddenly see a bright yellow bird, or notice that the cows have these long faces, loose skin, and horns that curve backward, ... and that was when it struck me how little I know about this familiar scene. The rapid banter in Spanish that filled the truck, the banter I could only catch short phrases of, complete the brick-to-head feeling I was having. As we pulled up to the gate, a solid gate 10 feet high with a guardhouse on one side, I watched with my eyes and my heart as Br. Carlos greeted first the security guards and then every person he saw with a warm smile and a hearty handshake or kiss on the cheek as he called them by name.
The compound itself is beautiful. Low, white-walled buildings with tile roofs sit demurely at the end of raised cement walkways, and lush greenery meets the eye at every turn while the smell of fresh dirt assails the nose. Frogs call back and forth in the oncoming evening as students sit down to dinner in the cafeteria, and night's song continues until the sun begins to rise and the birds take over. Perhaps someday I will tire of the remoteness, or the heat, or the mosquitoes, but for right now, this is what love at first sight must feel like.
Part 2. The drive out to Utopia took about half an hour from the airport, not including the stop we made so Br. Carlos could buy Angela (another visitor to Utopia) and I rubber boots. Yopal is a city of about 150,000; but it doesn't feel that way at all. Something about these places, maybe the lack of any particularly tall buildings (?), makes them feel very small. But anyway. The drive out takes you down this one long road, Matepantano I think, away from the city. For a little while the road is paved, but it soon turns to dirt and rocks. Br. Carlos said "Bienvenido al mundo tercero. Welcome to the third world."
At first, it doesn't seem so different from many places in Montana. Barbed wire fences run along the road, separating it from the cows and from the crops. When a truck comes down the road the other way, you slow down, move over, and roll up the windows. Then you suddenly see a bright yellow bird, or notice that the cows have these long faces, loose skin, and horns that curve backward, ... and that was when it struck me how little I know about this familiar scene. The rapid banter in Spanish that filled the truck, the banter I could only catch short phrases of, complete the brick-to-head feeling I was having. As we pulled up to the gate, a solid gate 10 feet high with a guardhouse on one side, I watched with my eyes and my heart as Br. Carlos greeted first the security guards and then every person he saw with a warm smile and a hearty handshake or kiss on the cheek as he called them by name.
The compound itself is beautiful. Low, white-walled buildings with tile roofs sit demurely at the end of raised cement walkways, and lush greenery meets the eye at every turn while the smell of fresh dirt assails the nose. Frogs call back and forth in the oncoming evening as students sit down to dinner in the cafeteria, and night's song continues until the sun begins to rise and the birds take over. Perhaps someday I will tire of the remoteness, or the heat, or the mosquitoes, but for right now, this is what love at first sight must feel like.
One Week
Well, I've been here just about a week now, and I suppose that's as good a time as any to write my first blog post from Colombia!
Sparing you the nitty-gritty, getting here was kind of exhausting, but honestly not too bad. It is impressive to me still that I spent 3 days accomplishing a trip that could take 10 hours, but whatever, not important. I stepped off the plane at El Dorado Airport around 10:30AM and ran the customs gambit in Bogota in record time - nothing to declare and they didn't even want to x-ray my bags. With that, I stepped out into the ... um, slightly tepid Bogota July. It's cooler and less humid here than it is in New York, so honestly, the climate is a welcome change from the summer I'd been having in Albany. "So it goes."
For several months now I've been coordinating via email with Paola Caro, and she met me at the airport. Though we have previously only corresponded in Spanish, it turns out that Paola and all the staff at the university's Oficina de Relaciones Internacional y Interinstitucional (ORII) speak English excellently, which has been a blessing, since my Spanish is just as poor as I thought it was, perhaps even poorer. We arrived on campus and dropped my bags off in what amounts to a hotel room (very nice accommodation, but definitely short-term) and I then proceeded to make a poor impression on every person I met, including the director of ORII and the President of the university. I have since thankfully been given chances to change those initial impressions, but it was a bit depressing to be paraded through an office of professionals while exhausted from three days of travel that included sleeping six hours in an airport, plus I was still dressed in my shorts and t-shirt. I managed a nap late in the afternoon, had the first thing I could find for dinner (it happened to be kebab), and in a moment of good fortune arrived back at my room just as some other international occupants were heading out for the evening. Cue social life, we went downtown and had a couple drinks in a very curious little bar and found our way home around 1 AM.
The day after I arrived was July 20, coincidentally the Colombian national holiday celebrating Independence. Turns out that isn't a huge deal here the way it is in the U.S., but it still means all the businesses are closed and downtown is a street-fair zoo. Since there wasn't anything urgent to take care of, I made use of Independence by going for a walk. Six hours later, I was confident that I was near the university again, but I just couldn't seem to find it. Finally I climbed halfway up the mountains that border the city so I could get a look down, and lo and behold, I had been within about five blocks of the place. Sore in the feet and pretty well pooped, I slept away the late afternoon, ventured out for a quick dinner, and retired early.
Sunday was a relatively uneventful day, but Monday was a doozy. Monday I went to CLUS (Centro de Lenguas de Universidad de la Salle) and met my new boss! Yep, I have a boss. Since my service here in Colombia will be teaching English at Utopia, and since Utopia is a branch of Universidad LaSalle, and since CLUS is the department of the university specifically in charge of the language requirement for students, el jefe (the boss) at CLUS is also my boss. So, for the next 3 weeks or so I am living in Bogota and working at CLUS to learn the pedagogy of the university as it relates to teaching English. Specifically (for you teachers out there), CLUS requires its instructors to use a task-based approach that emphasizes communicative ability for all lessons, as opposed to grammar-based or any other pedagogical systems.
Since my students at Utopia are technically students of LaSalle, they are required to meet the same standards of English (as a required set of courses) as all other students. To ensure all students are graded properly for their level, LaSalle has designed its own standardized tests, and I have to be properly trained on how to administer them (from such details as keeping the tests in a locked room to how to properly assess the oral exam). This amounts to two real-world tasks for the next 3 weeks. Very daunting, and exciting, hands-on training in regard to teaching, as well as very dull and difficult watching of previously recorded lectures on such thrilling topics as how to use technology in the classroom and fairness in examinations. But, my new boss is cool, I can browse the web while I "watch" videos, and at least I'm not just spending my day trying to figure out how I should be spending my day. I hope to come out of these three weeks with a greater sense of confidence in my teaching abilities and a much more practical understanding of the expectations for a language teacher at Universidad LaSalle. Did I mention I'm also going to be taking a Spanish class? Thank goodness for that.
Though there have been other minor events throughout this week, none are particularly worth recounting at this time, particularly since I'm really excited to write my next post, which will happen as soon as this one is finished.
Ciao!
Sunday was a relatively uneventful day, but Monday was a doozy. Monday I went to CLUS (Centro de Lenguas de Universidad de la Salle) and met my new boss! Yep, I have a boss. Since my service here in Colombia will be teaching English at Utopia, and since Utopia is a branch of Universidad LaSalle, and since CLUS is the department of the university specifically in charge of the language requirement for students, el jefe (the boss) at CLUS is also my boss. So, for the next 3 weeks or so I am living in Bogota and working at CLUS to learn the pedagogy of the university as it relates to teaching English. Specifically (for you teachers out there), CLUS requires its instructors to use a task-based approach that emphasizes communicative ability for all lessons, as opposed to grammar-based or any other pedagogical systems.
Since my students at Utopia are technically students of LaSalle, they are required to meet the same standards of English (as a required set of courses) as all other students. To ensure all students are graded properly for their level, LaSalle has designed its own standardized tests, and I have to be properly trained on how to administer them (from such details as keeping the tests in a locked room to how to properly assess the oral exam). This amounts to two real-world tasks for the next 3 weeks. Very daunting, and exciting, hands-on training in regard to teaching, as well as very dull and difficult watching of previously recorded lectures on such thrilling topics as how to use technology in the classroom and fairness in examinations. But, my new boss is cool, I can browse the web while I "watch" videos, and at least I'm not just spending my day trying to figure out how I should be spending my day. I hope to come out of these three weeks with a greater sense of confidence in my teaching abilities and a much more practical understanding of the expectations for a language teacher at Universidad LaSalle. Did I mention I'm also going to be taking a Spanish class? Thank goodness for that.
Though there have been other minor events throughout this week, none are particularly worth recounting at this time, particularly since I'm really excited to write my next post, which will happen as soon as this one is finished.
Ciao!
Monday, July 16, 2012
One-way ticket
Many of you already know. You've seen something on Facebook, you've heard it through the grapevine, maybe I've even told you in person. For the rest of you, though, it's time for me to come clean. I'm moving to Colombia (South America) on Wednesday. I'll be continuing this business of volunteering, though in a very new capacity. Universidad La Salle is a university in Colombia run by the De La Salle Christian Brothers (FSC), and I am going to work in their Utopia program. Utopia is an Agricultural Engineering program based in El Yopal (about 350 km from Bogota) that brings in bright young farmers/students from deep Colombia, particularly from communities affected by drug violence, with the intention of training these people as entrepreneurs with the skills to change the economic opportunities available in their communities. True to the mission of the Brothers, Utopia is a way to change the world through education. I will be living in student housing, eating in the dining hall, and teaching English to these intrepid young people. I suspect I'll learn more Spanish than they will English, but I will do my best and hopefully not cause too much damage.
I have a lot of feelings as I prepare for this next journey. My bags are mostly packed, my room is mostly cleaned out, and my goodbyes are mostly said. My two years in Albany have been great. I made a point of making this place my home, and saying goodbye to a home is hard. I'm sure over the next couple days, as I make my way to New York City and then on to Bogota, that I will find myself struggling to unpack the many experiences I've had here. The boys at LaSalle School, my many friends on the river, the people who have been with me here day in and day out, all these people have changed me, shaped my thoughts and feelings about this place, and I am sad to depart from them. There have been great times here, and there have been days that challenged my faith, and both have helped me become who I am now. I have grown tremendously in my abilities to work with challenging youth, in my wilderness abilities, and even in my self-confidence (though some of you will argue that I didn't need any more of THAT), which might make what I say next somewhat perplexing.
I take all my experiences and new skills with me to Colombia, my carry-on bag of personal tools, if you will. I also take a lot of doubts and concerns about whether I can really do this, whether I can do the job I have been called to do. Frighteningly, there are implications here somewhat beyond my control. There are some people watching to see if this could blaze a trail for future volunteers. If my experience is a blinding success, then I suppose that would be a good sign. But what if it this all turns into some dismal flop? I'd rather not think about it. Similarly, there is little (i.e. "no") evidence that the university has hosted a volunteer like this before. What if I turn out not to be what they expect? Will they ever be willing to take the risk again after me? Another thing I'd rather not think about. These doubts have been tugging at me for some time now, and much though I'd rather not think about them, they're almost ALL I think about. Every time somebody asks, "So are you excited?", I freeze for a second as my courage wavers. I am decidedly NOT excited. Very few times in my life has there been the real possibility of failure. I have done a pretty darn good job of setting myself up for success, and when failure has been a likely outcome, I've done those things in private. Putting my failure on a world stage is truly a painful thought.
There has been one comfort in this process, one piece of advice I keep reminding myself of. At the Lasallian Volunteers' debriefing retreat, one of the other LVs quoted I-don't-know-who when she said, "Sometimes the right person for the job is the one who is willing." Sure, I'm trepidatious about the whole thing, but I'm also willing, and maybe that's enough. Writers often claim that courage is not being unafraid, but taking positive action even when you're scared witless. I pray that I have enough courage to get through this, and enough skill to come out the other end better than when I went in.
Wish me luck, remember me in your prayers, and as always, don't hesitate to leave something in the comments section below.
Happy Monday!
Alex
I have a lot of feelings as I prepare for this next journey. My bags are mostly packed, my room is mostly cleaned out, and my goodbyes are mostly said. My two years in Albany have been great. I made a point of making this place my home, and saying goodbye to a home is hard. I'm sure over the next couple days, as I make my way to New York City and then on to Bogota, that I will find myself struggling to unpack the many experiences I've had here. The boys at LaSalle School, my many friends on the river, the people who have been with me here day in and day out, all these people have changed me, shaped my thoughts and feelings about this place, and I am sad to depart from them. There have been great times here, and there have been days that challenged my faith, and both have helped me become who I am now. I have grown tremendously in my abilities to work with challenging youth, in my wilderness abilities, and even in my self-confidence (though some of you will argue that I didn't need any more of THAT), which might make what I say next somewhat perplexing.
I take all my experiences and new skills with me to Colombia, my carry-on bag of personal tools, if you will. I also take a lot of doubts and concerns about whether I can really do this, whether I can do the job I have been called to do. Frighteningly, there are implications here somewhat beyond my control. There are some people watching to see if this could blaze a trail for future volunteers. If my experience is a blinding success, then I suppose that would be a good sign. But what if it this all turns into some dismal flop? I'd rather not think about it. Similarly, there is little (i.e. "no") evidence that the university has hosted a volunteer like this before. What if I turn out not to be what they expect? Will they ever be willing to take the risk again after me? Another thing I'd rather not think about. These doubts have been tugging at me for some time now, and much though I'd rather not think about them, they're almost ALL I think about. Every time somebody asks, "So are you excited?", I freeze for a second as my courage wavers. I am decidedly NOT excited. Very few times in my life has there been the real possibility of failure. I have done a pretty darn good job of setting myself up for success, and when failure has been a likely outcome, I've done those things in private. Putting my failure on a world stage is truly a painful thought.
There has been one comfort in this process, one piece of advice I keep reminding myself of. At the Lasallian Volunteers' debriefing retreat, one of the other LVs quoted I-don't-know-who when she said, "Sometimes the right person for the job is the one who is willing." Sure, I'm trepidatious about the whole thing, but I'm also willing, and maybe that's enough. Writers often claim that courage is not being unafraid, but taking positive action even when you're scared witless. I pray that I have enough courage to get through this, and enough skill to come out the other end better than when I went in.
Wish me luck, remember me in your prayers, and as always, don't hesitate to leave something in the comments section below.
Happy Monday!
Alex
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