How International Travel is Prejudice Against Middle America

So many of my colleagues are starting blogs for their upcoming Semester at Sea voyages. My friend Dave did a blog when he sailed a couple of years ago and wrote every day. Every day. Considering all of the communication challenges that arise when sailing on an oceanliner around the world, it's really something of a technological miracle. Looking back at my first sad attempts to blog about my last voyage (I believe I posted about our first day on the ship which is before we even left Florida which I'm pretty sure is cheating.), I am a bit disappointed that I don't have the narratives to go along with the pictures. (I did, however, post a handful of my favorite pictures from each port from my last voyage. Oh, who am I kidding? That is still a sad attempt at blogging.) This time I am optimistic that I will keep up with it. At least a little bit. But instead of making empty promises about something that may or may not happen, let's begin with the voyage to the voyage thus far...

And for my first official Spring 2013 post, I'd like to make a case for how international travel is prejudice against middle America. I'll prove it to you. While I was preparing for my upcoming voyage, I was living in the booming metropolis of Monticello, Iowa. (They pronounce it Montisello not Montichello like that of presidential homestead fame if that gives you any indication of the level of culture we're dealing with here.) In order to submit my visas for China, India, and Ghana, I needed to print PDF copies of the applications to mail to the company submitting the paperwork on our behalf. So I went up to the camp staff office, dusted off one of the old Macs, and went to work. Or tried to. You see, the very first Mac desktops aren't compatible with Adobe. And apparently neither are the computer's security settings. Red lights started flashing and sirens started going off when I attempted to download said Adobe so I quickly aborted the mission. Instead, I had to coerce the lovely nurses into letting me use the computers in their office on two separate occasions in order to print said PDFs. By this time, printing a PDF was something of a miracle. 

The preferred method of submitting these important international PDF documents along with my passport was FedEx. Do you know how many FedEx drop boxes there are within a 25 mile radius of Monticello? None. There are no FedEx drop boxes anywhere near Monticello. According to the map, I would have had to drive over 30 miles to a supposed drop box on a dirt road even more in the middle of nowhere than I already was. And pay $26 to boot to overnight it. I'd have to pay just as much in gas to get it to said drop box. No thank you. The US Post Office (which, thank goodness, every tiny town has) with delivery confirmation will suffice just fine. 

Now onto immunizations...The laundry list for the immunizations required for the countries we are going to is long and involved. And in order to get them I had to drive about an hour away. (Why would there be a doctor in Monticello who knows anything about Japanese Encephalitis? That's just ridiculous.) So I scheduled my appointment with the travel clinic in the closest big city-big being a relative term. The travel nurse went through all of the precautions for all of the vaccinations and, as she was administering one of the immunizations, said something along the lines of, "I don't know much about polio but I sure hope you don't get it." Oh geez. That's comforting. So hopefully I have all of the correct immunizations shot into my blood stream. Fingers crossed. 

So, in summation, I think I have justly proven my point that international travel is prejudice against middle America, against those with computers older than they are, against those with no FedEx boxes in a driveable distance, and against those with travel clinics whose clientele visit exotic destinations such as...North Dakota. 

Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come from a Store

So after yet another holiday season working retail, I feel that all of that personal growth I've done over the past however many months is long gone. It only took seven weeks to flush the 12 weeks of challenge, learning, growing, and reflecting  I did at camp out the window. That must be a new personal record. Who knew a mall could suck your soul that quickly? I'm convinced that working retail during the holiday season makes you a worse person: less patient, less tolerant of messy people, more irritable, and the list goes on. I suppose a less pessimistic view would suggest that working retail during the holidays could, in fact, make you a better person: more efficient, better able to duke it out for a good parking space, a faster folder, more appreciate of other poor saps in your same position, and better able to color code one's own closet. These are all important skills in life. So I'm going to stick with the latter. That working in retail has, in fact, made me a better person. Happy holidays, y'all.

Work Like You're Worth More than Minimum Wage

So it has been a few weeks since the end of camp and here I am, back at the same mall I was at when I was 14, working retail for the holidays. Since I have worked for Gap Inc. for I don't know 14 years off and on, I was expected to be compensated somewhat accordingly. I was a manager at my old store and while I knew I wasn't going to make the same amount, I expected to at least start where I left off when I was a sales associate. That line of thinking pretty much set me up for disappointment. Minimum wage in Nebraska is $7.75 and I am not making too much more than that. Honestly, after walking out of that meeting, I was pretty shocked, appalled, and offended. I felt like I was in some kind of social experiment, like Barbara Ehrenreich in Nickel and Dimed where she attempts to live off minimum wage and make ends meet in a few different cities around the U.S. Here I was, with a master's degree, getting paid only a few peanuts more to fold pants than I did when I was 16. But after listening to the general manager talk to her supervisor about how bad business is, how much is it appropriate to complain? After all, I am there only 6 weeks and there are folks who are there for the long haul probably making less than I am and getting less hours. I thought I was going to get at least 15-20 hours a week, but when I only got 8 my first week, I went into panic mode. I started shamelessly promoting myself. I was willing to take any shift for anyone. (A huge thank you to a girl named Ali. I've never met you, but you have graciously sent 15 hours my way!) And once the big bosses saw that I wasn't dumb, that I did know stuff, and that I did work hard, I started getting scheduled even more than the 15-20 hours I was hoping for. My strategy? Work my ass off. Work like I'm worth more than (barely above) minimum wage and work like I'm being paid more (even though I'm not). I guess that is a good strategy for any job. I hope.

Somewhere Along the Way

This was our last week of camp and I have to say it was a pretty great one. I requested to work with a couple of counselors that I knew were great to minimize any headaches along the way and to go out with a bang. Turns out, this was a fantastic choice. I can think of no other job where I am challenged so much each and every day. And no other job that makes me laugh and cry like this one. Like I said before, part of me thinks I could do this forever. I keep having this thought where I will go teach in New Orleans for two years, earn my certification in special education, and then apply to run a camp for people with special needs. The thought has crossed my mind a few times and I must admit that it's not a bad plan. Some where along the way, I have fallen in love with this work and with these amazing people. I can't quite pinpoint where or when, but I know I have NCCC to thank for that. Had it not been for my team's stint at Camp K, I don't think this is ever something I would have sought out on my own. And it has since become something I can't imagine my life without. So thanks NCCC.

I have also reaffirmed some other things about myself this week. It's no secret that I pride myself as being someone who is punctual and organized with one hell of a work ethic. Those who don't share those same qualities may make great friends, but I find them very challenging to work with as coworkers. When folks are late, lazy, and disorganized, it really tends to rub me the wrong way and this week is no exception. I realize that I have an incredibly low tolerance for people who (pardon my French) just don't have their shit together. It's something I know I need to work on. As a peer, these are behaviors I have no control over, but as a supervisor, these are things I can help people work on. That was something I always told my team, "These are life skills." And as much as they hated it, I like to think it helped them out at least a little bit. So in the midst of my frustration this week, I kept thinking, "I wish there was something I could do about this. I wish I could be some place where other people valued these things as much as I do." Then, for the first time in a long time, the thought "I could join the Army" crossed my mind. We all know I've been down that road before, but the more I think about it, the more I think I could do a really good job. I feel like I would have been okay at it at the ripe age of 22, but I feel like I know myself a heck of a lot better now than I did then.  I have a fairly solid idea of my leadership style and what works for me and what doesn't. I feel like I am going at helping people get the most out of their experience and helping them to develop the skills they want and/or need in order to help them be successful in their next step, no matter what that might me. I also feel like I am good at letting people know that I have their back and that I am willing to go to bat for them. So yeah, the thought is out there. I suppose after my torrid love affair with the military, the thought never actually left. But know I feel that it's out there in a good way and not just in a "I've wanted to do this since 10th grade and it didn't work out the way I planned but I don't know what else to do" kind of way. So I guess we'll see.

It's the End of the World as We Know It

This week was the first week without our AmeriCorps NCCC team. I spent the last two years of my life in NCCC and when I first found out that there would be a team at camp, my first thought was, "I can't get away." But after spending the last eight weeks with this team, with many of the members reminding me of my own team, and seeing them be challenged and changed in a way that only a project like this can do, I am going to miss them. It's also pretty weird to not be surrounded by grey shirts and cargo pants. For the first time in over two years, AmeriCorps NCCC isn't a part of my everyday life.  I kind of thought of them as my transition out of AmeriCorps and now that they're gone, I feel that my transition out of AmeriLife is just about complete. I wore a uniform for two years and have spent the last 10 weeks being able to at least pick out my own pants. Pretty soon, I'll be able to pick out all of my own clothes! What an adventure that will be. At the end of the day, I'll be able to part ways with my coworkers, spend the night at my own place, and see them the next day like a normal person. And as an added bonus, all of the traumas from last year now seem like a distant memory with just a few great people and another amazing team to remind me what good really came out of that second year. So thanks for the memories, Maple 7, and thanks for helping to aid in my own transition to Life After AmeriCorps. Good luck on your own!

Friends

Overall, this was a pretty fantastic week. I switched groups with the AmeriCorps NCCC Team Leader because it was their last week at camp and she was really interested in working with males and hadn't yet had the chance to do so. So I offered to switch. She ended up with the grumpy old man group and I ended up with one of my favorite groups thus far. It was just a fantastic group and a breath of fresh air after my funk the week before.

One of the highlights of the week was spending the weekend adventuring around Iowa and Wisconsin with a new friend from camp. I think she and I may be kindred spirits. Come to find out she was a student on Semester at Sea the semester after I first sailed. We have a similar sense of adventure and both love to travel so we thought exploring our local area during one of our last weekends here would hit the spot. In looking back on all of the places I've been, there is always at least one person that I am extremely grateful for, someone whose path I feel like I was meant to cross. She is one of those people. She is someone who is extremely thoughtful and works really hard to maintain the relationships in her life. All in all, I feel lucky to know her.

Back to the Dirty South

So today I was presented with some interesting and exciting news. I was accepted into Teach for America, with an offer to teach elementary school in New Orleans. For those of you who had been following along, my relationship with Teach for America has been an interesting one. After working with at-risk kids in Alaska and desperate to get back to New York, I applied and interviewed but only preferences a few cities, NYC being one of them. I'm pretty sure that my interviewers could smell my desperation and with a sub-par 5 minute lesson to boot, it's no wonder they rejected me outright. I don't blame them.

Then my first year of NCCC, I applied again. this time I was accepted and offered a position to teach in the Mississippi Delta. At that point in time, you had to rank every single one of their 50 plus locations, with the possibility that you could end up in the geographic location at the bottom of your list, which is exactly what happened to me. While it all sounded like a grand adventure, moving to rural Mississippi and teaching kids at some of the most high needs school in the nation, the thought of moving to said rural location made me want to cry. I tried to talk myself into it for months, going through the motions as if updating my resume and taking the required exams would somehow make want to actually move to rural Mississippi. Finally, in April, I had some real talk with myself and ultimately decided that if the thought of moving some place made me want to cry, it probably wasn't the best fit for me. Had I been 22 and just out of college, moving from Auburn to rural Mississippi would have been fine, but being 28, many years out of college, and having lived pretty recently in Manhattan, I knew it wasn't for me.  Had I accepted, I'd be well into my second year of teaching. It's weird to think about, but it's a decision I'm pretty happy with.

So I decided to go back for more and apply again. This time around, I was elated to be placed in Baltimore, Maryland. A handful of my friends from the year before moved to Baltimore and it was just a hop skip and a jump from other major cities on the east coast. I accepted the offer immediately and was all ready to go when I received an offer for Semester at Sea. Even my dad said I'd be nuts to turn it down and coming from a guy who rarely travels more than an 8 hour drive from Omaha, that's saying something. But I knew he was right. On one hand, I was excited to not be living out of a suitcase, to pick out my own clothes, and to not share my living space with 10 other people. But on the hand that is much more indicative of my wanderlust, Semester at Sea was willing to hire me again for perhaps the most amazing job I'd ever had. And they'd basically pay me to go to Asia and Africa. Like my dad said, I'd be nuts to turn it down. So I didn't. I applied for a deferral for Teach for America, but was rejected. Rejected but welcome to apply the next year. Again. If they only knew...

I wasn't actually 100% sure I was going to apply again, but I was 100% sure that I wanted to have a job waiting for me when I came back. I can't imagine attempting to schedule interviews and relying on payphones in a foreign country or paying out the nose for phone service while at sea. So sort of at the last minute, I decided to throw my hat in the ring again. The day before I had been rejected from the New York City Teaching Fellows, so I was psyching myself out, convinced I hadn't made the cut, so imagine my surprise when I was offered a position in a city that has been at the top of my list each time I applied. It will be interesting to move back to the South after evolving into the wanderlusting liberal that I've become since college, but 80% of Orleans parish voted for Obama so I think I'll be just fine. Welcome back to the dirty dirty.

Mixed Signals

So this weekend, I am working another respite weekend. I really enjoy working respites because it's a chance to work with kids, which is something I have missed during the fall season where we work primarily with adults. This morning, looking around at all of these sweet faces of kids with special needs, I had this moment where I thought, "I would love to teach special education and get to work with kids like this every day." Then throughout the course of the afternoon, when a six year old had such a series of temper tantrums that he smashed his skull into my collar bone, hip bone, and my chin multiple times one time so hard I saw stars, I thought, "There is no way I'm doing this. Ever." That doesn't even include the battle scars his primary counselor has to show for the weekend. Then my thought turned to the parents of this particular kid. He and his nine year old brother both have behavior disorders. I don't know that much about them, but I'm pretty sure they are not my forte when it comes to working with people with special needs. Personally, I prefer folks with disabilities that don't involve me getting hit in the face. I started to picture what it would be like to have a classroom full of kids like this every day and then felt relieved that I didn't impulsively reroute my life based on my blissful feelings this morning. I started to think how sometimes how these disabilities manifest, either positive or negative, can depend largely on their parents. And how I don't want to inherit someone else's poor parenting for 9 hours a day times 20 kids. I am not a parent and I can't imagine the challenges of having a child with special needs, but at this point in the day and in life, I don't think behavior disorders are my thing. I know people that are incredibly passionate about it and I am incredibly thank for each and every one of those people and for the countless others that dedicate their lives to these kids. As for the six year old who beat the crap out of me today, no less than 15 minutes after he cleaned my clock (when this occurred  I was simply trying to hug him and hold him until his counselor came back so they could go swimming), he came up to me in the pool, held my hand, and climbed up on my lap. Go figure. How about that for mixed signals?

Thanks, Universe

So this last week, I am not particularly proud of my performance. The best way to describe my state of being this week was "desperately tired." I was completely exhausted and couldn't seem to snap out of it. Also, my group this week was a little lower energy than the groups I'd had for the past couple of weeks. The past two weeks, I'd worked with ladies with Cerebral Palsy who, while they had more personal care needs, were genuinely happy people who were appreciative of their time here and excited to be at camp. I have come to find that folks with Cerebral Palsy are just genuinely happy people. They are nice and happy and excited and all of those things that make camp wonderful.  I am not sure if this positive outlook is associated with their particular disability. Perhaps, I just got lucky with the wonderful ladies that came into my life the past few weeks. Either way, it was pretty fantastic. This week, I had what I'd consider a relatively "easy" group, but things that shouldn't have annoyed me did. One woman asked the same handful of questions over and over and another loved to give hugs. What's so bad about hugs you ask? Well, these hugs hurt. She would basically tackle you to tell you she loved you. She also liked to touch everything that you were also touching including the spoon holding the cereal enroute from your bowl to your mouth. She also liked to elbow you in the rib cage just to say "hi." The bruises are still healing... It was one of those weeks where I kept thinking, "Tomorrow is a new day. I will wake up tomorrow and do better." And every day, I didn't. And I hated it. I feel like I wasn't my best self for the ladies in my group which is unfortunate because they each had this unique fantasticness about them. And some of them had things that were significantly less fantastic that bothered me more than they should have, but I suppose we all have those things.

Friday morning, as I was counting the hours until the start of a new week when I could officially start off on a new foot, something pretty great happened. A camper in one of the other groups who I had chatted with a few times gave me a hug. She held me so tight, crying that she didn't want to go home. The tears started coming and then I also started to cry. At first, I tried to pull away, but she didn't let go. So then I just embraced it and her. So there we sat, hugging, both crying, both not wanting to leave. Sometimes the universe gives you what you need when you need it and not a moment sooner. On Friday, the universe gave me an amazing hug from an amazing camper, reminding me that this job doesn't have an eight week cut off like it did last year in AmeriCorps and that I need to continue to be my best self for my week 12 campers as I was for my week 1 campers. Thanks, universe.

Reinforcement

This week was another "Just for You" week, a week with a one on one camper to staff ratio. This was mostly for campers with strong behavior issues or those with a high level of personal care. We had a fabulous group of five campers, all of whom were sweet and funny. A much needed change from the craziness of the last Just for You week.

The real lesson this week came from a weekend adventure-a send off for one of the counselors whose work visas expired and was leaving the country. We went to Iowa City to have dinner and hang out. Long story short, some shenanigans ensued and it reminded and reinforced my ideas in relation to alcohol. Inevitably, in every group of friends, there are the responsible ones: the ones that round everyone up and drive them home at the end of the night. As someone who didn't ever drink until I was a senior, this was a role I held throughout college and well into my adult life. I have never been the one to get completely ridiculous, drop my cell phone in a toilet, leave my credit card at the bar, and disappear, leaving my whereabouts unbeknownst to my friends. Even during a few crazy nights in grad school and during the cold winter months in Alaska where the bars were the warmest place to be when it was -32 degrees outside, I still managed to make it home with everyone I arrived with with all of my belongings in tow. As the responsible one, sometimes I envy those people and their ability to be completely free of any and all responsibility for themselves and those around them. But on the other hand, I can't imagine being on the other side of the table. I know myself pretty well at this point and I know that's not the person I ever wanted to be. My motto when going out? Don't ever be that girl you make fun of. I feel like that may also be a good life motto as well.

I never went through that"crazy get it out of your system we're in college let's find ourselves and make really bad decisions" phase in college. It just never happened. And I'm perfectly okay with that. The up side of never going through that phase? Having more time and money to travel or to do whatever I wanted to do that didn't come in a glass. I got good grades in college. I was involved in lots of activities and had time to do all sorts of things that I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. Also, meeting other amazing people who weren't interested in partaking either. They're out there and they're pretty great. I don't judge people that choose to be ridiculous when they drink, I really don't. (Well maybe those girls. And maybe just a little.) But I am also making a choice-to never be that girl that I make fun of. And if I can avoid college bars and nights out that make me feel like I'm a hundred, that's okay too.

Change of Perspective

This week I was in a group with one other counselor and two campers, one of whom required a really high level of personal care. Even though she was in her 60's, her mother sent very detailed instructions on everything from feeding to what she would like to buy at the camp store. Upon reading the pages and pages of step by step instructions, this whole thing seemed like a daunting task. This was a small, frail woman with very severe Cerebral Palsy. While the other counselor in my group was her primary counselor, most times it took the two of us for all of her personal care activities. Meal times were the hardest for me at first. She has dysphagia, which means she has a lot of trouble chewing and swallowing. She also had a cold so this made chewing and swallowing while she coughed extra challenging. Having someone cough up half their food back in your face after almost every bite is not for someone with a weak gag reflex. I remember this was an incredibly huge challenge for me with one of my campers last summer. His coughing and gagging during meals was so severe, I was worried he was going to choke after every bite. I started eating meals after our scheduled meal times just so I wouldn't have someone else's food coughed back into my own. So I was pretty happy that I had evolved enough as a counselor to be able to share a meal at the same time as feeding this particular camper. At first, it was pretty challenging and I considered taking the same approach as I had last summer and just coming back and eating a meal after the scheduled time, but by the end of the week, I realized how incredibly special it was to be able to share this one on one time with this pretty amazing lady.

She was unable to speak, so she used a Pathfinder-an electronic communication device where she could tell us what she was thinking or what she needed. She told the device what to say by selecting the words with a mouse that she controlled using her head. It was programmed so she could  say anything from "I need to be adjusted in my wheelchair" to "My favorite music is Elvis Presley." Anything she needed to say, she could say using this device. The whole technology is really quite amazing. If  we had a yes or no question, she would answer us by blinking for yes and looking away or not blinking for no. It is sometimes difficult to figure out how much folks who are non verbal can comprehend, but despite her inability to speak, this woman understood absolutely everything. She was sharp, witty, and really quite funny. Sometimes she would even tell her device to say something completely unrelated in order to just throw us off like "May I have a cappuccino please?", "I'd like to drive myself," or "Don't forget to charge my chair" when she was using a non-power wheelchair. On the last day, she started to cry several times, telling us that she would miss us and that we were doing a good job. Although, I wasn't her primary counselor, it was still really hard to say goodbye to her. Her staff sent a notebook with her so we could write about the things she did each day and about all of the pictures she took. The first thing I could think to write in her goodbye note was that she was what camp was all about and why this place was so special. In her everyday life outside of her home, I'm sure many people never take the time to really listen to what she has to say, to hear her jokes, and to just spend time with this amazing person. Even just thinking about it now makes me emotional. She is such an amazing woman and I feel so fortunate that I had the opportunity to spend the week with her.

The other camper in our group turned out to be one of my favorite people ever. She was so sassy and so incredibly funny and all without really ever speaking more than a few words. All in all, it was a fantastic week spent with two fantastic ladies.

How accessible is accessible?

This weekend I went on a travel camp trip to Omaha, Nebraska. First and foremost, it was great to see my family and to show them all of the great things we've been up to here at camp. It was absolutely incredible to see my family jump right in and help out with the campers. It made my heart smile. :) Second, it was an interesting adventure into the world of accessibility. There are all sorts of ADA laws to make sure things are handicap and wheelchair accessible, but outside of parking spaces how accessible is accessible? The other counselors and I began comparing bathrooms-which ones were wide enough, had the best railings, etc. This is an odd thing to notice, but when you are travelling with seven campers in wheelchairs, these are the things you pay attention to. In Omaha, we visited the Henry Doorly Zoo which as it turns out does a pretty good job of making things accessible. We opted out of the rain forest and the desert dome in favor of attractions where the animals were easier to see with more wheelchair accessibly pathways. I have done travel camps before with Camp K, but the majority of their trips are camping in the great outdoors with campers who don't utilize wheelchairs so there wasn't much in the way of comparing accessible bathrooms. So this trip definitely helped me to look through an accessibility lens.

Pick on Someone Your Own Size

This week proved to be an interesting dynamic in our little group. We had a group of five ladies. One was mostly non-verbal. She said a few words, including her own name (which by the way was adorable). When she was upset, she would let out this screech that would get progressively louder the more upset that she was. A couple of our ladies were especially bothered by this sound and chose to voice their opinions about it every chance they got. It didn't matter how many times we explained that sometimes people express their frustrations differently, even if it was something they could cognitively comprehend, a couple of them continued to yell at her and holler at her to stop, thus increasing the noise level significantly and making it that much more stressful for everyone involved. This happened multiple times each day and each time the ladies irritated by the screaming became a bit meaner with their hollering back and their comments. I felt the need to defend our non-verbal friend and  they noticed it. One of them even said to me, "Sure, go ahead and stand up for her." I simply said, "Of course I will stand up for her. And I'd do it for anyone of you, too." It got harder and harder for me to hear these other women yell at her when I knew she couldn't defend herself.

It got me thinking about bullying among people with special needs. I am sure that many people with special needs know bullies all to well be they classmates, co workers, or heaven forbid even impatient family members. But at camp I've also seen them bully their own. Someone who is higher functioning will take it upon themselves to make fun of, harass  yell at, or even physically harm someone who they perceive to be weaker or lower functioning than themselves. I would like to think that if someone knows what it feels like to be bullied, then they wouldn't then be the bully. But I can also imagine that many people with special needs hear these unkind words all of the time so it seems only natural for them to repeat it to someone doing something they don't appreciate or understand. So I suppose it starts with those that interact with people with special needs. If they don't hear those words used against them, then they are much less likely to repeat them.

In Over My Head

I felt like this week provided a lot of lessons rolled up into one crazy week. This week, we had a one on one ratio of counselors to campers due mostly to behavioral issues. I had a camper who was self-abusive. What this means is that they harm themselves in some way (biting their hand, hitting their head against something, etc.). They do this for a wide variety of reasons: frustration, anger, being asked to do something they don’t want to do, or an inability to communicate something they want or need. My particular camper hit himself in the head and face. Hard. He had significant scarring on his face and forehead and was virtually, if not completely, blind.  And all of it was self-inflicted. Hearing his story from his staff member that dropped him off was heartbreaking. Not knowing how to manage his behavior at home, his family used restraints to tie down his arms in case his self-aggression got too intense for them to manage. He had scarring on his arms from the restraints. To meet him Monday morning and hear all of this first thing was quite intimidating. My first thought was, “I’m in over my head.” But then somewhere during the week, something changed. This camper and I bonded. He would begin to hit himself and all I had to do was hand him one of the stuffed animals he brought, tell him to hold on to it tight, and tell him, “You’re okay” for him to stop. By the end of the week, he was holding my hand and putting his head in my lap just as a reassurance that someone was there, that it really was okay. He was nonverbal, but his smiles and laughs said it all. And sometimes so did his outbursts. I came to find that he hit himself when he was angry, frustrated, or asked to do something he didn't want to do. Sometimes I also think he did it out of habit. When we sat down, often he would feel around to see if there was a wall or a railing close by that he could hit his head on. Simply putting an arm around his shoulder usually solved this problem. Wednesday I wasn't feeling well so I took the afternoon off and I found myself really missing this camper. Thursday we sat on the swing for what seemed like hours and I talked and he listened, all the while laying his head in my lap, nodding off to the rhythmic squeak of the swing. It was probably one of my favorite moments at camp thus far.

This week also had me thinking about something else: how people with special needs are viewed in other countries. My camper was Korean and it occurred to me that I know nothing about how people with disabilities are perceived in other cultures. Do they have group facilities abroad like we do in the United States? Or do people with disabilities live with their families? This is something I’d definitely like to learn more about…

This week also made me think about the spectrum of emotions that human beings experience. There was a camper in another group who was always extremely happy. She always had a huge smile on her face and was always super excited to see everyone, to hug them, or to hold their hand. I never saw her unhappy. For someone with a severe cognitive disability, I wonder how this affects their spectrum of emotion. Do they worry in the same way as those of us who worry about seemingly trivial things? Do they feel jealously if someone else is getting the attention they consciously or subconsciously crave? How do frustrations manifest? In even asking these questions, I admit I am showing my complete ignorance about the wide spectrum of cognitive disabilities  but I think it is definitely something that warrants more investigation to answer the questions being asked.

Looks like I've given myself plenty of homework on the cultural and emotional aspects of people with special needs...

If I Die Tomorrow...

This week, I had a group of three ladies who had Cerebral Palsy (CP) who were in wheelchairs and two other campers with only three counselors which was as logistically challenging as it sounds. All of the women in our group were absolutely fantastic (even the one who would be difficult on purpose...but get her hopped up on some cold medicine and she was a giggling, self-proclaimed "fruit cake"). They were all excited to be here and had a great attitude, but having only three counselors for three campers who needed complete assistance with personal care was a quite a challenge. It was the most physically demanding week I've had working at a camp thus far, but I found myself, in spite of my fatigue, really trying to enjoy my time with these ladies. And what a fun time we had! One of them, the one I worked with the most closely throughout the week, is probably one of my favorite people ever. And I feel extremely fortunate that I had the chance to spend a week with her. She was always happy and always excited, so how could I not be? Even when I was exhausted, the other counselors, campers, and I still laughed til the point that we cried many times throughout the week. This was one of the most physically demanding weeks I've experienced in recent memory, but it was a wonderful, hilariously challenging week. I had this moment on Thursday where I thought "If I die tomorrow, I'll be happy with what I did during my last day on earth" which I think is just about the best lesson I could hope to learn.

Can he do that?

This past weekend, I worked a respite weekend at camp. Respite is an opportunity for families and care givers with special needs to bring their loved one to camp for a weekend. The purpose is two fold: to help the campers have a fun weekend away from home and for the care givers to receive a much needed rest from providing 24 hour care for their loved one with special needs. Even just having campers here for 40 hours, I was able to take a lesson anyway. That's the beauty of this kind of work. Always something to learn. :) This weekend's lesson was on ability.

I had the opportunity to work pretty closely with a young man with severe Cerebral Palsy. He was pretty fantastic. I'm not going to lie. He had a great sense of humor. He was also one of those people that when you were on the receiving end of a smile or a laugh, you feel that you must have done something pretty special to earn ti so it makes you feel pretty wonderful. There was a group of  nursing students from a nearby university volunteering. Each of them was assigned a camper to work with one on one while the other camp counselor and I were there to help out as needed. I'm not sure of this volunteer's experience in working with people with special needs, but I was pretty surprised when she asked me several times at activities throughout the weekend, "Can he do that?" I thought it was an odd question to ask of a person with special needs at a camp for people with special needs. I'm sure this is a question people ask (be it in their heads or out loud) about this young man all of the time. But the beauty of it is, he can do that here. He can do whatever he wants here. We will do our absolute best to make it work or die trying. He lives in a world that I'm sure doesn't always accommodate to him, but luckily camp isn't that world. Did you know there was such a thing as adaptive golf clubs? And that there are countless art projects that can be adapted for people with special needs? It's all really quite amazing.

I also found it odd that when our dear camper left, the volunteer said to him, "It was a pleasure to take care of you this weekend." Sure, assisting with basic personal needs comes with the territory but was that our primary job here? I felt that my primary goal was to help him participate in the activities that he may not be able to do otherwise and to help him have a positive experience while he was here. In my head, providing the personal care was not our primary goal this weekend. In his file, it said he loved camp and loved being here so I wanted to keep it that way. I earned several of those smiles along the way, so I'm hoping that mission was accomplished.

This had me thinking about my own abilities. I can't even tell you how many times I've looked at something of which I'm perfectly capable and said, "I can't do it." I know I've taken for granted the fact that I can do something, but something inside me be it fear or nerves or what have you has decided that I can't when in reality that's really not the case. There's a few things in my life where I let the "I can't" get the best of me and quit on some things that I know in hindsight that I could have done. I don't believe in regret because it's those choices that led me to where I am today, but if I had it to do differently, I probably would have done it...differently.

Most recently, during our staff training, we went caving. Now for those of you that have never been caving, it's really quite an experience. We shimmied through a cave not more than a few feet high and a few feet wide for Lord knows how many feet by the light of a flashlight to get to an open space at the back in order to sit down and do some team building activities. I was very anxious about it the day before, but decided that I would try it. I was still pretty nervous going in , but the person behind me was even more so. She decided to back out of the cave pretty early, but I kept going. The element of the unknown soon got the best of me and I, too, decided to turn around about halfway in and head back. Part of me is okay with this decision, but part of me regrets not completing the challenge. After all, it's not that I can't. I can. I'm perfectly capable. Guys who weight 150 pounds more than I do and that are a foot taller have made it through this cave so I really have no excuse. That goes for most things, really, and is the lesson I'm glad I was able to take away from this weekend. I'm hoping I'll have the chance to go back and try my hand at the cave again. Next time, I will bring extra batteries for my headlamp in order to provide some additional peace of mind. :)

An example of ability that makes me come out on top is when our group climbed the "Angle Dangle" during our staff training. The Angle Dangle is this ropes course element comprised of 4x4s at wonky angles attached by cables on each side, like some kind of crazy ladder. The "rungs" were about as far apart as I am tall, so it was a bit challenging and there were times when I didn't think I would physically be able to do reach the next beam and pull myself up, but somehow, I did it. It took awhile and I had lots of bumps and bruises to show for it, but I proved to myself that I could do it. The physical ability level was there. It just took my brain awhile to realize it. So in the future when the thought "I can't" starts to creep it's way in, all I have to picture is that volunteer asking, "Can he do that?" and then remember the smile on the camper's face when he did do it. I only hope I can be as cool as him some day.

Faith in Humanity: Restored

This weeks lesson is on keeping your faith in humanity. I felt a little sluggish this week (I'm going to blame it on Baltimore), but my group of gals was completely fantastic so overall it was a great week. I have one camper who this is her first week at camp. Everything to her is new and exciting. She has so many questions about all of the activities and is absolutely excited about everything. And I mean everything. I have never seen anyone so excited to go canoeing or do archery in my life. Her smile is so bright and her laughter is contagious. She has the biggest heart of just about everyone that I know, making pictures and crafts for all of her friends and family, keeping none for herself. She made a craft for one of the new AmeriCorps NCCC counselors that just joined us and also drew a picture for my mom. (How great is that? Last time I drew my own mother a picture was well over two decades ago.) If that doesn't tell you how great she is, nothing will. She also wants to talk to everyone and to know everyone's name. To have this camper call you a friend means you must be pretty great. She is a fantastic camper and I wish I would have appreciated that more during her first four days here. Good thing tomorrow is Friday and I still have one day left with her. :)

At our weekly dance tonight, one camper (who happens to be in a wheelchair) asked one of our gals (who also happens to be in a wheelchair) if she'd like to dance. And dance they did. The nurse's aid wheeled our lady right up next to him and he spent the next half hour moving the tray of her wheelchair in order to move her chair back and forth, bobbing his head to the music. Watching these two "dance" brought a tear to my eye and definitely restored my faith in humanity. There is this basic human need for us to connect with another person, even if it is two people sharing a space on the dance floor. I'm just fortunate I was able to share a little bit of that space with them.

Never Forget

I was taking the train from Baltimore to DC, making my way back to the airport after attending the wedding of a good friend from grad school. It was one of those weddings of one of those friends that makes you believe that good things are still possible in the world, that finding a fantastic, self-respecting person who shares similar values is still possible. Do you have any of those friends who you feel lucky to call your friends? People who are just so wonderful and amazing that you feel fortunate to have been a part of their lives, even if just for a little while? Well I got to see four of those people this weekend. And it was pretty great.

As the Metro stopped at the Pentagon station, it occurred to me that the last time I was in DC was in October of 2011 for the Marine Corps Marathon. Running the marathon throughout our nation's capital after one of the worst tragedies in America's history is something I won't soon forget. We ran through the city streets, past one iconic monument and then the next until we made our way to the Pentagon. Only a month and a half before, an airplane had crashed into the building. And here we were, running laps around it in an effort to reach the 26.2 miles we committed to. The image of the Pentagon with a gaping hole in it is something that will be forever burned into my brain.

I have remembered September 11 in various ways since that day...through visiting Ground Zero when I lived in New York to performing community service during my last three years in AmeriCorps. This year, I am working at a camp for people with special needs, where time stands still and national holidays don't mean much more than a date listed on a calendar. How are you going to remember?

The Pursuit of Happiness

My roommate during my first stint on Semester at Sea wrote down three things she learned each night before she went to bed. I did two blog posts during my first two days on the ship and then gave up, so I give her credit for actually sticking with it. I thought it was sort of a great idea and something I've kept in the back of my head but didn't think about much until now. I've been at camp for three weeks now and each week has had a distinct theme, a sort of lesson that has smacked me in the face as if to say, "Hey you! Think about this." I came here wanting to find some parts of myself that I feel as though I'd lost along the way last year so I decided to run with the idea of a lesson a week, something to think about, ponder, mull over, and reflect upon. The first week's lesson was patience. (See "Patience is a Virtue" post.) The second week's lesson is the pursuit of happiness. Unlike Will Smith in the Hollywood version, I am choosing to spell happiness correctly.

This week I had a group of younger males, mid 20's to early 30's. For the most part, the campers were great. They participated in activities and were genuinely excited to be here. One camper was just about the happiest person I had ever met. In his end of camp paperwork, the best description my co-counselor and I could come up with was "Camper will make you happy when skies are grey." And that's an understatement. He was always smiling, always happy. He would challenge counselors to a "race," line them up in the cafeteria, run a lap, then throw his hands in the air, yelling "Hallelujah!" It made me smile every time. And it happened a lot. Therefore, I smiled a lot that week. He called the the wrong name the entire week, but it didn't matter. I just felt lucky to know him and to, hopefully, help make his camp experience a little better, even though he's the one that definitely did that for me.

On the other end of what I've come to call the happiness spectrum, I had a camper who was unhappy pretty much all of the time. He would fixate on one thing and worry himself into a frenzy. There wasn't really a way to calm his fears until he found the next thing to worry about. He was also having a minor medical issue and complained about that the whole week, using it as an excuse to not participate in activities even though he was perfectly capable. In the five days he was here, I didn't hear a single positive thing come out of his mouth. While it was incredibly frustrating, it also made me stop and think how melancholy it must be to be in such a constant state of worry and anxiety. Toward the end of the week, I asked him what I could do to help take his mind off his troubles and to help him have a fun week at camp since it didn't seem like he was really enjoying himself at all. His response? "I'm just not a happy person." Boom. There it is. This isn't someone who was just having a bad week. This is someone who lives his life in a constant state of worry which sounds a bit like torture if you ask me. He knows this about himself and lives with it. How much of it is treatable and how much of it is a part of his cognitive disability, I'm not sure.

This had me thinking about my own take on happiness. Looking back, sometimes I do tend to find the not so great part about jobs that I've had. In situations like that, it becomes a "misery loves company" mentality. After all, who wants to take the high road and be positive when you have to walk the high road alone? Sounds pretty lonely to me. Then I started to think about all of the things that I was appreciative of about my life and where it is now and about my current job. I happened upon a quote awhile back that I think sums this thought process up quite nicely, "Doing what you like is freedom. Liking what you do is happiness." Nowhere in any of these inspirational quotes about happiness is there a disclaimer or an exception to the rule that if you had a different boss, a different salary, or different coworkers that you would be happy. Happiness depends largely on you and how you choose to respond to your current situation. I haven't always been the best at that, but after spending a week with someone who freely admitted that he just wasn't a happy person and seeing what that looked like, I am determined to change my outlook. While I may not be able to change a given situation, I can certainly change the lens in which I look through.

Patience is a Virtue

Patience. If you think you have it or you are looking to find more, work with people with special needs. I'm serious. After my last year in NCCC, I felt that I had lost quite a bit of patience, humility, and compassion, things I felt I had gained quite a bit of during my first year. One of the reasons I wanted to come back and work at a camp for people with special needs is to find some of those things within myself again, to regain what I felt I had lost. While it is one of the hardest jobs, I'll probably ever have, I think it is probably one of the most rewarding. Right now, I feel like I'm still hung up on the differences from the camp I worked at last summer when I should be focusing on the task at hand and helping campers to have the best week that they possibly can. While there are definite pluses and minuses to both places, I can't help but be more appreciative of Camp K, the people there (both campers and staff), and the things they taught me both about others and about myself.

There are always times when I feel that the end goal to a job like this isn't worth it. Those times usually come at a point of complete exhaustion around 2am when you have to spend the night in the campers' cabin for overnight duty. I'm not going to pretend I even remotely like cabin duty. Here, there are scheduled wake up times every three hours in addition to the other things that might come up. But after taking a nap the next day and gaining some clarity, I realize what a humbling experience it is to have someone else's safety, well being, and even bathroom habits be your life's purpose for 9 hours when most other people are sleeping.  I make no promises that I won't think "If I quit tomorrow, I'll never have to do this ever again" during my next cabin duty, but I will try and maintain some perspective.

Thinking back on my campers last summer, I didn't have any huge behavioral challenges. Most of the tasks that proved daunting at first were personal care tasks, which now I feel like don't really phase me at all. Last week, I had a pretty good group, but there was one camper in particular who challenged me like I have never been challenged before. This is someone who, at times, just shut down and couldn't express how she was feeling if she was upset or frustrated. So she would lash out, hurting herself or whoever happened to be close by. That was a pretty challenging day for me, so I can imagine it was also pretty challenging for her, not being able to let me know what she needed and how I could help.

This camp also doesn't have a no cell phone rule like Camp K, which I find to be a bit strange since service here is very limited anyway. It's interesting to see that even at a place where we are supposed to be out and enjoying nature, people (campers and staff alike) are still glued to their cell phones. I wonder how things will change for people with special needs when, as technology advances, we as human beings become increasingly closed off from each other. Many of the campers exhibit what is called "attention seeking behaviors", which could be biting themselves, interrupting conversations, hitting, etc. in order to gain attention from their family or care takers, even if it is negative attention. Some of these behaviors are pretty alarming for a camp counselor who has only known them a few days.  I wonder when and if this attention seeking will evolve along with the technology as it becomes harder and harder to get that face to face contact they so crave. These people with special needs who are craving this attention could actually teach all of us a thing or two about the value of positive human human contact-that it is still necessary even at a basic human level.

A Stranger in a Strange Land

As an adventurer, I am usually attracted to jobs, opportunities, locations where I am, for the most part, surrounded by like minded people-people who have done all sorts of cool things that I would like to do and been all sorts of cool places that I've added to my travel to-do list. But then I come home to unpack and repack to my family, the wonderful not-quite-as-adventurous-as-I-am people that they are and all that comes to a screeching halt. I spent the week before I got home hiking across every National Park in the state of Utah plus the Grand Canyon. When I got home, my feet still were itchy and I felt the need to keep moving, keep hiking, keep exploring. I remember a similar feeling coming home from the end of AmeriCorps last year as well. I had this huge desire to sleep outside under the stars and buy camping equipment, to put some more miles on my hiking shoes. All of this is pretty contrary to my first instinct so when the mood strikes, I feel the need to capitalize. It felt then and feels now weird to stop, weird to sit, weird to have nothing to do. Moral of the story: looking up hiking trails in Nebraska is really a moot point.

I think that's part of the reason I feel like I have a hard time connecting with people when I come home. I mean really connecting. Their lives have continued just as much as mine during the times I've been away. And I must admit that I'm guilty of forgetting that sometimes. Just because your address remains the same doesn't mean your life has. These people are my family and I love and appreciate them more than anything, but I've been gone so long and been so all over the place for the last few years that sometimes I feel like they don't really know me at all. Sure they are able to spout off a few words about what it is I'm doing now in the family Christmas letter, but I fear I've done a bad job at staying connected with these people whose roots have enabled me to have wings.

Pinpointing the moment of change...

I'm trying to figure out when it happened. When I went from being this high schooler who was conflicted on the inside because she couldn't say how she felt to the people it mattered to most to this person who isn't afraid to speak her mind to just about anyone, including the head honcho that many others are quite literally terrified of. I have been thinking back to trying to pinpoint the moment of change. I think a lot of it had to do with living in New York. There is a saying about New York, "If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere." And I'd like to think that's true. When I first moved to the city, I was afraid to go out after dark. (I blame that on watching too much Law and Order right before I moved to Manhattan.) But by the time I moved away, I was able to navigate pedestrian traffic in Times Square with ease and get a seat on the subway like a pro.

I was also able to talk my way into anything and navigate the bureaucracy of my graduate school like it was my job.  I remember when I first moved to the city, I was shocked and appalled that some of these undergrads would call their attorney parents and tell staff members that they "pay their salary" so they should do what they can to make the students happy. They could argue their way in or out of any situation, no matter how many people had to bend over backwards because of a missed deadline or a broken rule. That was actually the reason I felt like New York and I needed to take a break. I had become way too comfortable in that environment and I didn't like that about myself. A friend of mine described is as putting on your "Columbia skin" when you get off the subway at 116th and Broadway. And it was true. By the end of my time there, I wasn't very distinguishable from those students I despised when I arrived two years before. So I decided it was time to go. I felt the need to do the exact opposite of what I was doing in New York: working at an Ivy League university with college students. So I decided that tutoring under privileged kids in Alaska would suffice. 


I feel as though I lost some of my edge in Alaska. Things moved a lot slower there. There were a fraction of the amount of people milling about. People didn't leave their houses in the winter. The buses weren't quite on par with the subway system. A moose in the road was an acceptable reason to be late to work. I wanted a change from New York and that is absolutely what I got. But even in Alaska, there came to be a point where I was pretty miserable with where I was and what I was doing and I didn't feel like I could talk to my boss about it. 


Then came NCCC. I was responsible for the safety and well being of 10 people. 10 whole people! Even to this day, my instinct is to totally "mama bear" if someone even looks at them funny. I know they are all grown ups, but I'm not sure that that instinct will ever completely go away. For all intents and purposes, those were my kids and it was my job to protect them. The one moment I can pinpoint where this new found boldness may have emerged is during our second round project. We were having a bit of a plumbing issue to say the least. The pipe under the house that was supposed to take all of the waste out from the house to where ever waste goes burst. So all of the waste from the toilet was now being deposited under our house. Yes, it was as gross as it sounds. It took them weeks to fix it even with much poking and prodding from yours truly. We planned a volunteer event that kept us out of the house all day, ate dinner out, and did some shopping to make sure we gave them plenty of time to fix the problem. We arrived back that evening to our lone member who had stayed home that day, delirious and sick to her stomach from the poop smell. She was 18 and my youngest member at the time. Finding her in this state, I was worried that the AmeriCorps version of child protective services was going to come and take her away from me for being a neglectful Team Leader and leaving her home alone under these conditions. We arrived back to a toilet not completely attached to the wall (are they supposed to wobble like that?) with cardboard tacked to the wall behind the tank where actual wall should be. And a bathroom full of dirt and drain flies. It was disgusting. And that's putting it mildly. It was already slightly ridiculous that we had one bathroom for 10 people, but this was the last straw. All of us donned our rubber gloves, grabbed the bleach, and went to work cleaning up the bathroom. I called every number in my cell phone at 9pm on a Saturday night to let the folks from our sponsoring organization know of our state of affairs and that it was unacceptable that we live in these conditions. Someone finally called me back and told me that we could use the toilets in the church next door. So after getting the key, one of my guys and I headed over. He heads to one bathroom and I to the other. Upon finding what we can only presume to be month old feces in each of our respective toilets, we simultaneously start screaming and cursing-at the toilet, at each other, at the situation that we're in. Having a shouting match with a member of my team about poop wasn't one of my finer moments as a Team Leader, but it is one that I won't soon forget. I later had a member of my team tell me, "That was the moment I knew I didn't want to be a Team Leader. There was no way I could call and yell at someone about poop at 9pm on a Saturday night." 


I did a lot of things last year that I never thought I would do including calling people at 9pm on a Saturday night to yell at them about poop. But it was necessary so that's what I did. I feel like I've had to do a lot more of the metaphorical yelling at people about poop. And maybe more than I should have...

It's not the sky that's falling, it's us that's falling...

I enjoy San Francisco because it's about as close as I can get to New York City while being on the west coast. It's amazing the kind of clarity I find walking the streets, people watching, taking it all in. There's something incredibly rejuvenating about it. The last time I felt this way I was in Paris, practicing my rusty high school French, enjoying baguettes, and climbing the steps of the Eiffel Tower. I find that I am happiest exploring a new place, guidebook in hand, trying to figure out the public transportation system or navigating the busy streets. Being in a city I know relatively well, exploring new neighborhoods or just walking the streets provides the same feeling. It wasn't until I was heading down I-80 toward San Francisco today that I realized that I had been living my life for the last seven weeks in a half mile radius. My current service project is about two blocks away from where I live, so the scenery has been a bit lacking to say the least. I had been feeling particularly restless lately and I couldn't quite figure out why. Then it hit me: I had been looking at the same buildings and the same people for weeks. I was in need of a break. And San Francisco was the staycation of choice.

I was walking down the rather seedy part of Market Street, taking in the sights and sounds of the city when I happened across this man asking for change. Well, not so much asking as standing next to the BART station with an empty Starbucks cup muttering to himself. I heard him say, "It's not the sky that's falling, it's us that's falling." I thought about it for a few minutes and I realized he was right. There have been times in the past, even in the past few weeks, when I felt like the world was closing in around me and there was nothing I could do about it, that they sky was literally falling and the ground was closing in around me. But the sky isn't going anywhere. The sky is in the same place every day, it's the people that are changing, going through ups and downs. So moral of the story: even when you feel like the sky is falling, remember that it's you that's changing and that, good day or bad, the sky will be in the same place. It's actually kind of comforting if you think about it.

After passing this rather wise change-seeking gentleman, I had a bit of a revelation. (Who knew one could find clarity in the midst of the tobacco shops and strip clubs?) While I had been counting the days until my project was over (long story), I had also been dreading the day that I would be re-integrated into office life since it seemed that my friends who were still working in the office were not necessarily in a "happy place." I sympathize completely. I had a rough couple of months between December and February. Due to lots of things both in and out of my control, I was pretty unhappy in my job. In February, I took a trip to Paris. In Paris, I felt that I had found my "happy place." I was able to reconnect with the world, travel, explore, learn, and experience. I was able to do the one thing that makes me the happiest. That feeling snuck it's way into my carry on and has carried over into my life here in Sacramento. I felt that I found my stride at work, which was a nice feeling. In my apprehension about returning to an unhappy work environment, I needed to find that "happy place" again. I had this moment tonight, walking down Market, looking at all of the once grand theaters-turned strip clubs, attempting to imagine this bustling street in its former glory as a cultural hub of the city, where this thought hit me like a ton of bricks: It's time to reconnect with what makes you happy. Simple as that. Where is my "happy place"? And how can I bring a little piece of that to work with me every day? How can I reconnect with what makes me happy?

Now More Than Ever...

Tonight, I saw the film Bully, a documentary following several students who had been bullied throughout the course of a year. On one hand, it reaffirms my decision to teach, to help kids, to make a difference. On the other hand, it reminds me of how much weight the job title of "teacher" holds. That is, if you want to do it well. And I do. More than anything. 

Every time I watch these films that showcase everything that could possibly be wrong with the educational system, I get excited to teach. But when I think about the actualities I will face in my classroom each day, the thought of it absolutely terrifies me. It excites me, but it terrifies me at the same time. That, my friends, is a story for another time. (It's late and if I get into it now, I fear I may not sleep any time soon...)

But in the mean time, if you care about children, see this film!

30 x 30

So there are a lot of "30 things to do by the time you're 30" lists floating around out there, but I'd like to create my own list: 30 things I have done by the time I'm 30. I like to think of it as a sort of Bucket List in reverse.

Here goes....

1. Ran a marathon. 
2. Visited 6 continents. 
3. Visited 43 states. 
4. Graduated from Columbia University with my master's degree. 
5. Graduated from Auburn University with my undergrad degree. 
6. Sailed around the world on a ship. 
7. Lived in Alaska. 
8. Spent two fabulous years living in New York City. 
9. Saw the start of the Iditarod. 
10. Spent New Year's Eve in Times Square. 
11. Learned how to use a chainsaw. 
12. Spent a summer as a camp counselor. 
13. Rented my first apartment post-college, lived off ramen noodles, and slept on an air mattress on the floor because I was too broke to afford furniture. And survived. 
14. Went to a taping of The Price is Right.
15. Went to Disney World 7 times. And Disneyland 3 times. 
16. Celebrated in Times Square when President Obama won the election.
17. Joined a sorority. 
18. Saw New Kids on the Block in concert. Finally. 
19. Swam with dolphins.
20. Went skydiving. 
21. Spent a year living on food stamps and in section 8 housing. (Thanks, AmeriCorps.)
22. Spent 7 years in ROTC. 
23. Spent a total of 10 years working at Gap, Inc.
24. Bought my first car. 
25. Maxed out my first credit card. And (almost) paid it off.
26. Saw more Broadway shows than I can count actually on Broadway.
27. Moved across the country 8 times. 
28. Became a certified Wild Land Firefighter. (This training won't be complete until the week after B Day, but I'm going to go ahead and count it.)
29. Was accepted to Teach for America. 
30. Spent 3 years in AmeriCorps.

Compiling this list also made me really appreciate all of the amazing people who were present in my life during each of these adventures. This list served as a great source of reflection and helped me to recall some really wonderful memories with some really wonderful people. 

I was talking with a friend on the phone today and she asked, "At 20, where did you think you would be at 30?" That is a difficult question to answer because past-Elizabeth was a very different girl than the one I am now. I feel like I know myself a heck of a lot better now than I did then. I know what I want, what is important to me, what fills my bucket, and what makes me happy. I have a much better idea of what I want out of life now than I did then. While I am extremely grateful for past-Elizabeth's challenges and experiences, I am really excited for what the future holds for future-Elizabeth. 

Here's to being 30, flirty, and thriving!

Do you know that people make bombs that look like ipods?

February 20, 2012

So here I am ranting about the ugly American and I was one of them last night. In an effort to save a few Euros (and not pay $5 for a bottle of water), I ordered tap water at dinner. I went to the bathroom and when I returned a tiny, overpriced bottle of Vittel water was waiting for me at the table. My first instinct, "I'm not paying for this." I asked the waiter for tap water instead and in an awkward exchange that I can only assume meant, "Tough cookies. I already brought the water to the table so you're paying for it.", the water ended up staying put. And costing me 4 Euros. France 1. Elizabeth 0. I guess the idea of having endless pitchers of ice water brought to your table Chili's style is a very American ideal. C'est la vie.

I hate to admit it, but I was also a rather ugly American this morning while I was checking in for my flight. I only planned to carry on, but the self-check kiosk were roped in on all sides. Not wanting to wait in line behind the whole French women's water polo team, I did what any impatient American would do, I went under the rope. Or attempted to. I would have made it free and clear had my backpack not caught the rope and sent it reeling back with a very loud snap. The airline agent, who I'm sure will be complaining about me later at the water cooler, scolded me and sent me to the back of the line. After answering a ridiculous amount of security questions (How long have you owned your ipod? Are you sure it's not a bomb? You have nail clippers? (Is she allowed to have nail clippers?) Do you know that people make bombs that look like ipods?), I ended up checking my bag anyway. American Airlines got their payback after subjecting my fellow passengers and I to perhaps the most ridiculous boarding procedure I have ever encountered. Over an hour and three modes of transportation to actually get to the plane later, I was on board. But Paris redeemed herself yet again with a spectacular view of the city and the Eiffel Tower as we made our way west toward the Atlantic. Paris wins again.

When did flying lose its magic?

After the rather spectacular panoramic view of Paris subsided, I expected the young teenage girl in the seat next to me to settle in to her book, but she kept leaning over me to look out the window. When she saw that I'd committed to the inflight movie, she asked me if I wanted to switch seats. She spent the next few hours staring out the window into the vast blue of the Atlantic ocean. Remember when getting the window seat on the plane as a kid was a big deal? I mean a really big deal. You felt like you could see the whole world out your little 8 1/2 x 11 window. You saw the amazing landscape that we, as Americans, often take for granted...the snow capped mountains, crystal blue lakes, and plains laid out like a green patchwork quilt. And what about all of the other great things about flying? you have nice people that bring you juice and tiny pretzels and a tray of food where, as a kid, everything is just your size. You have this big, comfy seat all to yourself. And you don't have that pesky adult problem where a person who might need more than their fair share of a seat is slowly squeezing you out of yours because you're small yourself. And no pesky siblings fighting you for the remote or annoying parents asking you to turn down the volume because you plug in your headphones and the inflight entertainment is all yours not to mention eight radio stations plus the random channel where you get to hear all of the action that's going on up in the cockpit. What's not to like? And don't forget about the bathroom. Kids are the only ones who can comfortably fit inside. So the next time you're shoehorned into an airplane seat with a seat back reclined within seven inches of your face and starving because all you've eaten for the day is four tiny pretzels, try looking at it through the eyes of a child. and then next time, fly first class.

A stamp in your passport...

I almost made it in and out of the country without a passport stamp. Had I not asked the rather surly woman in France, I would not have received a stamp and would have no evidence of my trip.

The best show you could get for 4 Euros...

February 19, 2012

Things I love about Paris today...
-Versailles in all its glory. The lines not so much.
-Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise. This is where Jim Morrison is actually buried. Amazing to see so many paying their respects to a main whose music touched them over 40 years ago.
-Impromptu Carnaval parade. Mardi Gras Paris style. No beads (or boobs) required.
-The Eiffel Tower. We got there around dusk and saw the tower in a beautiful blue dusky sky. In a word: amazing. We walked to the second deck (the top was closed) and arrived just in time to see the light show that goes off every hour. I lay down on the observation deck for an amazing view. Best show you could get for 4 Euros. I also lay down at the bottom directly in the center for another exciting view. It was a perfect end to the trip. :)
-The intoxicated man on the metro offering us his beer.
-Holding strong on our crepe a day rule.

Sometimes I pretend I'm from Canada...

February 18, 2012

Things I love about Paris today...
-Tiny coffees (Are Americans really over caffeinated or over-supersized?)
-Macaroons! (Not like the ones for Passover.)
-Having an entire exchange at the bakery in French! I attempted this yesterday and almost succeeded until the cashier said "Have a nice day.")
-Saint Chapelle. Everything about it is amazing.
-The view from the top of Notre Dame. The stairs to get there...not so much. I feel the need to watch the Disney movie now.
-A perfectly Parisian moment...Walking across the Pont au Change and there was a man playing an accordion, a lovely French song, and a view of Notre Dame in the background. Perfectly Paris.
-An impromptu French concert/sing along in Luxembourg Gardens. A few musicians were playing and brought along song books for the crowd. Passers by joined in the festivities. It was all very lovely. French music just sounds so happy. The gardens in general were lovely. Next time I come, I'm renting a small toy boat to sail in the fountain.
-The Eiffel Tower at night.

Reaching the top of the stairs to the upper chapel in Saint Chapelle and getting a peek at the stained glass quite literally took my breath away. I said a very meaningful, "Holy..." but luckily I caught myself before I finished it off with a word you shouldn't say in church. Pictures (and words) just don't do it justice.

"Sometimes I pretend I'm from Canada..." We had dinner at a cafe off the Pont Neuf while waiting for our boat cruise. The couple to the right were British, the table to the far left was a group of obnoxiously loud American college students with gallon sized glasses of beer (Hello! We're in France. Order wine.), and the family that sat down to our left was an American couple with two small children, one with an obnoxious video game with the Mario Kart on full blast. The only person I heard speaking French was the waiter. It was disappointed to say the least. Our Seine River cruise came highly recommended and we were looking forward to seeing the sights at night. Until we realized that even more loud, obnoxious Americans were using this as a booze cruise. We heard very little that the tour guide said and after sinking into our chairs out of sheer embarrassment at even sharing a continent with these people, I got up and asked them to keep it down. I don't know if I could have lived with myself if I didn't. The family in front of me thanked me in Spanish. My response? "I apologize on behalf of America." I know you can't necessarily teach cultural competence in a classroom, but as a nation we have to figure something out before the rest of the world thinks we're nothing more than an extension of the cast of Jersey Shore.

Art History for Dummies

February 17, 2012

Things I love about Paris:
-How people walk down the street eating baguettes like candy bars
-How at an outdoor table for two, both chairs are next to each other and people sit next to each other not across the table
-How carousels are everywhere and it's okay for adults to ride too :)
-The crepe a day rule and finding a crepe stand close to our hotel
-How the Eiffel Tower can just sneak up on you
-Kelly Crowe's guide to Paris

At the Louvre...
I discovered that I don't really "get" art. I will be purchasing Art History for Dummies when I get home.

I was hoping for a serene museum going experience. No such luck. At the _____ (insert famous work of art here), there were no less than 4,000 people and two school groups also vying for the same experience. My dream of sharing a quiet moment with the Mona Lisa was shattered, but at least I got to say hi.

You know how some things look bigger on TV? The Arc de Triomphe is not one of those things. It's breathtakingly beautiful. And enormous.

I think you will find your happiness there...

February 16, 2012

9.5 hours later and I'm finally here! I was fortunate enough to have 3 seats to myself, but still didn't sleep well. Go figure. I did, however, manage to almost miss dinner due to a Tylenol PM induced stupor. Too bad that stuff doesn't work longer than two hours. New life goal: To be able to sleep on an airplane.

Whoever said that the French aren't friendly is wrong. Right as we got off the plane, there was an airline agent greeting everyone with a friendly "Bonjour!" Fifty feet away there was also an armed guard so I guess friendly is relative.

Maureen and I are staying at the Woodstock Hostel in Montmarte. We spent the afternoon tooling around the neighborhood, visiting the shops, cafes (crepes...yum!), and visiting Moulin Rouge.

At Sacre Couer, there was a sign that read, "Welcome Messes," but the idea of a church welcoming the messes was nice. I think if you are one of the messes that needs welcoming, church is as good a place as any to be.

We were walking by a patisserie, admiring all the delectable pastries. Here is the exchange that took place.
Mo: I don't even know what those are, but they look delicious.
French man then points to the pastries, then puffs out his cheeks and puts his hands on his belly as if to inform us that those delicious treats will in fact make you fat.
Me: That was sort of the plan.

Once upon a time I did number two in one of those self-cleaning public toilets and it didn't flush. I told the woman in line behind me that it didn't flush, hoping that she wouldn't go in. But she did. You're welcome.

"I think you will find your happiness there." -The woman working the front desk at the hostel.
She was referring to a street with lots of restaurants after we asked her about dinner options, but I'd like to think it was a little more philosophical than that. ")

Is enroute a French word?

February 15, 2012

Paris has been on my travel bucket list for as long as I can remember. I can't believe I will actually be there in a few short hours! Yesterday, Cydne stopped by my office and on my introductory activity "homepage" from the beginning of the year, under "Place I'd Most Like to Visit" was written "Paris, France." She pointed it out and said, "You'll be able to cross this off tomorrow!" That paper had been posted on my wall for months and I hadn't even noticed that Paris was there waiting for me all along. It feels good to be traveling, to be putting a stamp on my passport. After Semester at Sea, I made a promise to myself to visit a new country each year. While I wasn't able to do that last year, I'm excited to make good on my promise for 2012. Looking forward to the next 6 days and being able to cross the City of Lights off my bucket list!

Midwest Affirmation

I am currently reading And Still We Rise: The Trials and Triumphs of Twelve Gifted Inner-City Students. In the book, Miles Corwin, a Los Angeles Times reporter, follows twelve students in an inner-city high school's gifted magnet program throughout their senior year. It has proved to be an interesting read, very though provoking, and inspiring. It is of particular interest because the students attend Crenshaw High School, a school members of my team served at during our second round AmeriCorps NCCC project last year in Los Angeles. Crenshaw is a place I have seen firsthand and experienced through the members of my team that spent countless hours there tutoring and mentoring students, just like those in the book.

The book follows gifted students who are graduating in 1997, a year before affirmative action in the state of California's public university systems is abolished. According to wikipedia, affirmative action, a policy in place since 1978 in the state of California, "refers to policies that take factors including "race, color, religion, gender, sexual orientation or national origin" into consideration in order to benefit an underrepresented group, usually as a means to counter the effects of a history of discrimination." (I can't believe I just cited wikipedia. Please don't tell any of my previous professors.)

In Chapter 9, Corwin cites several examples of "unofficial" affirmative action that have been discreetly (or not so discreetly as the case may be) happening in college admissions offices for generations and giving distinct advantages in the admissions process to legacies (children of alumni), athletes, the wealthy, the well-connected, friends of the dean, and students from underrepresented states (p. 132-133). Having discussed preferential treatment in the admissions process ad nauseum in graduate school, I wouldn't have given this list a second thought until they started listing underrepresented states: North Dakota and Nebraska. Bam. There it is. Being from Nebraska, an underrepresented state, could give an applicant a distinct advantage in applying for college. I never thought that being from Nebraska would have give me an advantage in the college admissions process. Colleges and universities want to establish a national presence and having students from underrepresented states, like Nebraska, helps them do just that. While I'd like to think that I'd gotten in to undergrad and graduate school entirely on my own merit, now I can't help but wonder.

For undergrad, I more than met the admissions qualifications, but for graduate school, now I'm wondering if my Midwestern roots somehow tipped me over the edge. I decided at the last minute that I wanted to abandon my law school plans to apply for higher education programs. I hadn't taken the GRE, wanted to be in a large metropolitan area, and waited until January to apply, so my list of potential schools was pretty short. NYU and Columbia. I didn't get in to NYU so the decision was made for me. While I often chastised my graduate program for not being the "touchy-feely" student affairs program I thought I'd applied for, now I've found that I learned more about the things that could actually help impart change in the education system, the things that I'm actually passionate about, than I would have at another graduate program.So for that I am grateful.

Now that I am a graduate of Auburn and Columbia Universities, if my future children decide to apply, then they could very well be given preferential treatment. So who knew that being from Nebraska could have helped not only me, but my children that don't even exist yet.

Resolve to Be Resolute

I looked up the word resolution in the dictionary and found a lot of what I expected to find. According to dictionary.com, resolution means  "a formal expression of opinion or intention made, a resolve or determination." The part of the definition that really stuck with me is "the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose." I also really like the definition of the word resolute, "admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering." I like that even better than the word resolution. So instead of making resolutions, let's resolve to be resolute shall we?

Like I said in my last post, to make a resolution to blog every day or even go to the gym half as often is silly and just plain naive. I know I wouldn't be fooling anyone if I made such sweeping general resolutions. So I'm choosing not to. I've looked at the coming of 2012 (and hopefully not the coming of the end of the world as Hollywood and Harold Camping might have us believe...fingers crossed) as more of a time for reflection. On the nightly news the other day, they listed a whole slew of reasons why we should be happy that 2011 is on the outs and that we can wash our hands of the whole thing. Sure the economy stinks, people were occupying every which way, and terrible tragedies happened in the world. But I'd like to argue that there was a lot of good stuff too. Many of my friends and family celebrated weddings and babies, new houses and new jobs. I'm sure they are all thrilled with 2011 as a result. 

While I didn't celebrate any of those life events, I was able to look back on some pretty incredible things and, overall, am pretty happy with 2011. As far as years go, it was a good one. So instead of spouting out a list of all of the wonderful things I may (or may not, come on let's be honest) do, I'm going to use this coming of a new year as an opportunity to reflect and celebrate some of the amazing things I did do. 

Here's the top 11 of 2011 (in no particular order).

1. Moved to California. Visited Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Utah, and Wyoming. 43 states down, 7 to go. I imagine the illusive North Dakota is going to be a challenge...  
2. Fell in love with 30 third graders while tutoring in inner city Los Angeles. 
3. Survived a literal shit storm. Also in Los Angeles. (I've heard people use the term shit storm to describe other things.  If you want to know what it's like to survive an actual shit storm, let me know.)
4. Stuck my toes in the Pacific Ocean. Many times. 
5. Learned more about organic farming than I ever thought I would learn from two of the coolest farmers ever. 
6. Decided not to go to Mississippi, but applied again and was accepted to Teach for America. This time to teach early childhood education in Baltimore. Quite literally a dream come true. 
7. Spent the summer working as a camp counselor for children, teens, and adults with physical and cognitive disabilities. While the initial thought of it made me more nervous than I'd like to admit, it was by far the most challenging, rewarding, hilarious, and humbling job I will ever have. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. 
8. Drove the Pacific Coastal Highway. Well part of it anyway. Still counts. 
9. Selected for Fire Management Team to be certified as a wild land firefighter. I slightly regretted not applying last year and after being out of the boys club/military life for so long, I wondered if I could do it. Turns out, I still can. I may or may not have been pretty impressed with myself for finishing the pack test (3 mile power walk with a 40 pound pack on, a requirement for all Forest Service firefighters), thinking to myself (Or saying out loud. Whatever.), "Look! I can still be a bad ass!" It was quite an exciting moment. I'd like to think I'm more of a bad ass now than I ever was during those days. 
10. Bought a plane ticket to Paris for the big birthday. This hasn't actually happened yet, but the ticket has been purchased which makes it pretty much official. 
11. Spent 10 months (with a little overlap into 2010, but who's counting) with 10 of the most incredible human beings that I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Serving as a Support Team Leader with AmeriCorps NCCC this year, I have the chance to reflect on my experience as a Field Team Leader daily. Every time a Field Team Leader asks me, "Did you ever run into...?" or "How did you handle...?" I am able to think back on my experience. How did I handle that? Would I do it differently this time around? Are my Corps Members better for the things I did or didn't do? I am very fortunate that so much reflection for last year is built into my job this year. I know I wasn't the perfect Team Leader and we were by no means the perfect team (sorry to burst your bubble, Blue 3). Nothing about the experience was perfect (nothing is), but it was perfect for me. Perfect for us. It was the perfect experience to learn, to grow, to challenge my own beliefs, to challenge my own fears and prejudices, to do things I never imagined I could do or would ever have to do. But I did them and I'm a better person for it. And I'd like to think that my team is better for it too. I saw each of them grow in ways they probably don't even realize yet. And I'll be excited for them when those realizations happen. I just hope, in some small way, that I get to be a part of it. I know that I may get a team this year be it a composite team or otherwise and as I told one of my teammates just yesterday, "You guys were a difficult act to follow so this year really didn't stand a chance." True story.

So while the general consensus seems to be that 2011 couldn't leave soon enough, I'd like to offer a counter opinion and say, "Thanks 2011. It's been real."