Urban Renewal in Detroit. Is an exciting prospect.

I went to Detroit towards the beginning of January hoping to be a part of or exposed to something big. I had an impression that in a city like Detroit, on the verge of bankruptcy, creative problem-solving would be rampant in the approach to the problem that has been featured in the media for so long of the abandoned houses and empty blocks.

The freedom for creativity was definitely evident in certain places. While in Detroit a friend of Mia's (a good friend from Oberlin) grandfather was generous enough to host us for lunch and offer us an extensive tour of the city. He drove us to a street where few houses were left standing and of those that were, an artist who had grown up on that block transformed the houses and yards into an Alice in Wonderland-like alternative world. Some houses had Picasso-inspired paintings in every window and doorway. Another was decorated with records, another with dolls and stuffed animals. All together it was an effective assault on the eyes and eery. The artist explicitly tied his art to opinions about political issues such as health care and the environment.

I was amazed at how pervasive the abandonment of houses seemed. Even in nice neighborhoods of the historically elite the problem penetrated. The group of Oberlin students was brought to Highland Park for the purpose of taking a house that had been low on the demolition list and remodeling it. Not only did we intend to make it livable, but also to make it carbon neutral.

There was an incredible example of green construction in downtown Detroit at a business center called the Green Garage(http://greengaragedetroit.com/index.php?title=Main_Page). In the remodeling of the building the couple who started this venture tried to used all recycled materials, and occasionally they would adapt the design plan in order to incorporate materials that surfaced during the demolition or from other sources. The building had several remarkable features, but I think my favorite was a wall that greets people entering from the outside that goes all the way to the ceiling of this warehouse and was made up of recovered bits of wood put together in a beautiful pattern.

Back to the house. A week into the demolition and cleaning process, a green building contractor came through to share his insights. He was appalled at our safety precautions. Apparently the group had been working in asbestos and lead paint for the week. I am not sure what long-term consequences are to be had from one week of exposure to these poisons but the efforts on the house were largely derailed thereafter. We didn't have the funds to undertake the project even with the safety equipment. We barely had the means to demolish the house which would not have compared to the price of rebuilding it into a carbon-neutral structure.

Although there was a feeling of discouragement in the group, it was remarkable observing how people responded to this crisis. The leaders of the group were good about understanding people's feelings and discouragement while also trying to facilitate alternatives.

I think the major problem with this whole project was that the group wanted to engage in action. Action is appealing when it seems those in power are stagnant and unable to do anything about the pervasive problems we identify around us. However, action without forethought or understanding not only has the potential to uselessly address a boil when the problem is in the blood but may also exacerbate the problem or create another.

I think there is a fine balance to to be sought, which may require risking counterproductive action for a moment of eureka to be arrived at. Our group did not have a long enough commitment to Highland Park for this risk to be worthwhile. I think our group needlessly risked becoming a further problem for this community to contend with. Although towards the end of the trip there seemed to be a concerted effort to meet and organize with community members, I felt that our action and group occupied this community like paratroopers landing ready for action but insufficiently briefed ahead of time.

Reflecting upon my experience working with students, I think expectations determine a huge percentage of a student's performance. Low expectations can be communicated in a multitude of ways. I found myself constantly underestimating the capacity of my students to complete problems because I didn't want them to get frustrated and give up. Working with them, my clues would go from tools to precise hints.

I fear that our work in Detroit was a precise hint. When I was working on the garden of the soon-to-be demolished house, picking up layer after layer of trash, I was stopped by a woman who was walking by. She appeared homeless and we talked for a long time about a range of topics (constipation to greens to the ill-intentioned white rulers of the city). At one point she asked me why I listened so much. I listened too much. I told her I didn't realize this was possible- I thought listening was a good thing. She shook her head and indicated the house saying that she wanted a job and she was hungry. After a while it seemed like she was asking why were we listening when by our working on this house we were showing we had something to say- something to teach. She wanted to learn so that she too could work.

There were organizations in Detroit that did provide tools for communities. One that sounded great was a program that taught Detroit youth how to work on houses to make them livable. It would have been so cool to have joined that organization and to have sought out the guidance of the experienced youth- give them a rudder in their communities to enact real change. The truth is that the group did not have much to teach. We did, however, have manpower and an eagerness to learn.

As it was, I wondered if we weren't crippling this community by the appearance of our entrance to do work that ultimately concerned them giving the appearance that we understood and acting as if they needed our assistance. Even if individuals and leaders of our group did not believe that, outsiders often conclude based on appearance.

I learned a lot and feel blessed to have gone to Detroit (which completely lived up to my mythological portrait). I think these projects seem to be headed in a productive direction as community members are consulted more. However, I am still wary of the appearance of outsiders working to make changes that more directly impact the onlookers.

"Who Let The Dogs Out?" Wwoof Wwoof Wwoof

Hey Everybody-

You join me tonight after 2 weeks of full-time work on Sunny Meadow Farm. It has been pretty labor-intensive and strenuous (Kieran and I are doing a lot of stretches and abs to counteract the tension in our lower backs).

Despite the intensity of the work, I am grateful we are doing this (Kieran concurs at Keepingupwithkieran.blogspot.com). Already many things in my perspective on food and farming have changed. (Check this website out if you are interested: http://www.sweetpoison.com/aspartame-side-effects.html)

So we have been doing a lot of work. Sometimes the hours pass swiftly by and sometimes 8 hours seem like 168. However, time doesn't exist when I am SIDESHOOTING and digging up spuds; it crawls by the second when I work with my greatest enemy on the farm: the hoe... which will, for a while I am sure, provide fresh meat for my nightmares.

My favourite farm-related activity, pruning tomato plants, involves cutting off the shoot above the second to lowest flowering stem, ensuring that the plant climbs up the rope, and the best part... SIDESHOOTING! This is a rewarding process requires both efficiency and care as one rifles through all the nodes of the plant to ensure that another stem is not trying to weasle it's way out. The pleasure I get out of locating these sneaks and snipping them off is akin to the I felt like I had loosened the collar of a dog who clearly had been struggling for some time. Each time I accomplished this my passageways would open as if they too had been choking.

I also relish planting in straight rows and columns. It is strangely satisfying to see the result at the end: evenly spaced plants in relatively straight lines. It's great. Digging up spuds is like mining for gold, except it's more lucrative.

Please make comments! (Kieran and I are having a (one-sided) competition over who will receive more!!!)

Until next time.

Mid Year Report.

5 months and 1 day until I graduate from City Year.

5 months minus 2 days since I commenced my service year.

This obvious mid-way point as well as a number of other factors made me pause and consider my year up to this point and how I anticipate it's progress in the months ahead of me.

City Year is a goal. It's rather easy to get caught up in the world of kids, focusing on individuals and the necessities of the school, and forget the excitement that is the progress of City Year. Each year, corps members have an opportunity to contribute to the ongoing construction of an organization that has so much potential; the more City Year accomplishes and the harder individuals work, the greater the probability that next year more children will be reached.

I have been reflecting on this statement often lately as the mindset of focusing on the longterm impact has become especially relevant for my team. We were told shortly after we returned from break that we are not getting the typical corps member experience, which includes, but is not limited to a day full of interventions, initiatives in anything from attendance to behavior, and frequent communication with all levels of the school's staff.

The Boston Renaissance Charter Public School team has been thrust into a complex hierarchy that was reluctant to make room, and when room was made, opposed to give us much of a role. We are not needed at our school. Our school has everything from 2-teachers per classroom to many psychologists and behavior specialists to skilled math and english coaches. Our school is so well equipped that our ideal position, which includes bits and pieces of what my school already has in abundance, is excessive and would have been complex to establish.

Due to pressure from City Year, the school has begun to hash out more productive things for us to do, such as focusing on a specific list of kids (a list other schools have had since the very beginning) who we will pull out of class to do interventions in english and math. Unfortunately, this list and plan came directly from the principal of our school, who is currently on leave. She did not consult the echelons in between: the specialists and teachers, who are consequently reluctant to give up their students during what is otherwise a science or writing bloc, or question our ability to be effective in administrating interventions. City Year is now determining whether a team will return next year, which understandably seems doubtful.

Out with the bad and in with the good. My team has been disappointed with the limitations and jealous of the incredible work other teams are doing and the support and encouragement they receive from the administrations. In spite of these negative factors, the majority of my teammates have remained very positive, and seek any means of making an impact.

One aspect of our service that I feel good about is the after-school program, Starfish. In that arena I think I have made the most personal progress, and I think our team had been in its element in confronting and overcoming the various hurdles we have faced. I was, at the beginning of the year, a non-factor when it came to managing behavior in my classroom. The three other team members in my classroom have been an integral source of patient guidance for me. I finally feel that I have a presence in the classroom beyond being mildly liked by the students and sought out when they wish to vent or avoid punishment. At the beginning I was well liked by the students, but because I was lame in enforcing the classroom expectations, I did not garner respect. I am very content with the medium I have recently achieved, and I now sense that the positive feelings some students have for me are more durable because I have finally started to assert myself as an authority while maintaining the fun at appropriate times.

In our after-school program there is an hour of application to homework and one hour of programing designed by my team. Each member has to create one lesson plan per month that will be used by the entire program, and one lesson per week that will be used on Wednesdays, for club days. I am currently working on a lesson plan for 2 days in February (one of which is my birthday!) with my friend and teammate, Uma, that I am incredibly excited about.

In light of Black History month, Uma and I decided to create a game that combines the Titanic exhibit (COSI anyone?), LIFE (the board game), and Oregon Trail (computer game) bringing the kids back to the height of the Civil Rights Movement and engages them in the decisions that were made by average citizens. In the game, their decisions will determine the hurdles they will face and where they ultimately end up. It is very much still in the works as we came up with this idea yesterday. Any input would be very much appreciated! Ideas anyone?

This is one of many events or happenings I have to anticipate for the remainder of the year. I am also preparing for a 1/2 marathon with potentially 5 or more other City Year members; we start this week. Kieran and I are planning for our Ireland trip taking place this summer. I have been contacting a number of different farms that we may work at, and have received responses from a couple. This is the second half of my sojourn in Boston and I am determined to take advantage of all the city and area have to offer. I will be visiting the JFK library, John Adam's house, and Salem (to see my second cousin Meg). Uma, her sister, Tara, and I are planning a snowboarding/ skiing venture. In March I will be visiting a neighbor that used to live on my street who currently resides in Maine. Finally, I am anticipating visits from my familia later in Spring!

I am going to have a great second half of the year. I am excited about enhancing the relationships I have developed with my students and doing whatever I can to be a source of encouragement and support in their lives.

If you have any questions or opinions of what I have expressed in this blog, please feel free to comment or contact me somehow.

Nora Ryan Signing Out.

It is hard to believe that I last posted on this blog a month ago. So much has happened since that I hardly know where to start.

I suppose it is good to start regarding my role at the school. My role has been ambiguous at best and nonexistent at worst. Because conduct in my classroom can be out of control, and is always teetering towards chaos, my role in the classroom has understandably not been a high priority for the teachers. Fortunately, this week I will start to have a more consistent job. I will be running a center in the classroom focused on the students that are either doing well or are on the verge of success. Even the kids that do well on tests fail to complete and turn in work, because concentration is such a grind in my classroom. There is so much movement and action going on, that even if the noise level is reasonable, the students' attention is perpetually diverted.

Every week I find that I enjoy more and more what I am doing. This is mostly due to the relationships I am developing with my students. In the past two weeks, I have made breakthroughs with most of the students that were the most resistant. It is so exciting. Students that really struggle to do work in class, and apparently everywhere else, sought me out to see if they could work with me in the hall. I even had a group of the most disruptive students in the hall with me, and they were working silently and independently on their work.

One of the girls in that group will do anything to avoid work: going to the nurse, getting a folder, binder, pencil from the classroom next door, the bathroom, and sometimes she just leaves the classroom without asking. Another girl in the group has been in the past the student that has shown me the most disrespect. She has yelled at me in front of other students, demanding to know why I am at the school, saying that I need to back off and mind my own business, etc. This week, for the first time, she did what I asked of her without challenging me, she participated in this group with her best friend (the before mentioned spas) and she worked silently. There were two other boys in the group as well, one of which is one of the lowest performers in the class, and the other performs well, but in the meantime distracts everyone around him. They both did their work and I only had to redirect them to focus twice in 45 minutes (this is really good for those of you that are unimpressed).

When students have missed days over the past couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity to take them out in the hall and catch them up on the book, "Number the Stars", that they are reading in class. I had to read four chapters with a tough group one day, and the last two chapters they were really struggling to concentrate. I recalled that one of the senior corps members had mentioned doing something called readers theater with his kids. I really didn't know how that worked, but I thought maybe if I mix up the way I read the kids will be more engaged. So I read the remainder in accents. Later that week, I decided that it could be even better if I acted out what exactly was happening as I read, and this worked pretty well. I think next time I will encourage any students I do this with to do the acting themselves.

The other day I was working in the hall with one of the lowest performing students on independent work. Independent work is supposed to be independent, so I was trying to lend the least amount of support possible, while still encouraging her to keep at the work successfully. She was really struggling to think of an antonym for town, so I started asking her questions that I thought might help her in the thought process. She wasn't getting it. I was so tempted to tell her the answer, because I thought, "She is so far from getting this answer that maybe I should give her just this one", but I just couldn't do it, we had spent too much time on the question. Finally, I physically saw a light bulb go off in her head and she shouted, "City". We were so excited that we did several celebration handshakes before returning to work.

Another kid, D, that I don't have a chance to see very often, because he is in a resource room with one of my teammates, but that I feel unusually drawn to, is another that would just dismiss me like I was dirt on his shoulder the first several weeks. A while ago he was not able to go to the resource room, and he so he chilled on the carpet in my room reading a NFL magazine. He finished with the magazine and was about to go to sleep, so I decided to take him to the library thinking that maybe we could find some more sports magazines he would be interested in; at least he would be reading.

In our walk to the library, our discussion of sports somehow morphed into one on animals, and we ended up spending about 45 minutes in the library looking for books on animals. He is especially intrigued by spiders. We finally ended up talking about aliens and the universe and how he enjoys watching the discovery channel. He asked me some questions that I could not answer, so he asked if we could search for the answers on google. Reluctantly, thinking that I had not brought him to the library to get on the internet, I said yes. Well, each time we found an answer on google, one of us came up with another question to ask, and we got progressively excited. Finally, we ended up searching what would happen to the earth if it would lose the its atmosphere. I think I learned more than he did.

D makes himself coffee many mornings, takes care of younger siblings, and doesn't seem to have many close friends, although people in the class seem to revere and respect him. He is passionate about basketball, football, and aliens. He seemed to me strangely independent. I made headway with him in the library, and since he has respected me and responded to me in a way I wouldn't have imagined after the first two weeks in school. He had a really rough day recently and was sent to the disciplinarian's office. Turns out an agency was coming to take his brother away the following day.

Growing up I have been aware of similar stories, but for me they seemed so overwhelming that they became insurmountable. I wonder if despite all D has had to deal with, someone like me, someone who is only in his life for one school year, can make a lasting difference. I suppose I am doing City Year, because I do believe in the power of an individual who really cares and believes, but at the same time, D is a twelve year old who has had to work against nature. It is hard to imagine anyone growing up and moving beyond such circumstances. I love what I do more and more because I understand more fully every week that I am part of a movement to empower these kids to rise above their experiences. City Year wouldn't exist if this really wasn't possible.

Bing!

Bing! in City Year is supposed to reflect a revelation of some kind. I had this revelation talking to my family about the fact that I was already struggling with my attitude towards working at the school. I felt that my experience during the few days I spent at the school the month of September were divided into small moments. Before this past week the bad moments in the classroom outweighed the positive ones. I was overwhelmed by the prospect of feeling this way for the next 10 months. Talking with my family, I had a Bing! moment.

It is up to me to tip the scale in the positive direction. I believe we have that conscious power, so I tried it. Monday morning I kept repeating to myself that, no matter what, I would have an "excellent day". I did. Every day I had an excellent day.

I truly reveled in the positive moments. The negative downers were still there, in fact, there was one very down moment during the course of one day, but still, by the end I felt like the negative moments held little consequence for me. For example, I was given a small group to work with in filling out their study guide for a test they were to have on Friday. This group consisted of the students that struggle the most in the class. I started out with 6 kids and ended with 3. During the course of the 45 minutes I was with the whole group the teacher kept stopping the class to say that it was too loud, especially my group in the corner. When I was focused on helping one kid on a question, the others would start talking about shoes. I tried incorporating everyone in answering people's questions, but most kids had no recollection of the book we just finished reading in class, so they weren't much help to each other. 3 kids got so frustrated that I could not focus individually on them that they up and left. I didn't even try to stop them, knowing that it was a lost battle. (I am now very deliberate on what I choose to take up with the kids.)

I was supposed to have my own group with the second class we work with after lunch, but that didn't happen. The first was not a great success. I told my teammates this story, and they expressed their condolences, but that was not what I was looking for. I viewed that experience comically. So far I feel that I have been effective in floating around the class working with individuals, but I am definitely going to have to work on my capacity to work with a group. I am not discouraged, because I know it will take time and I already have ideas that I need to share with my teachers on what I can improve.

I have not had to consciously twist all my negative stories into comedies in order to feel good about this week. I have also had overwhelmingly good experiences too. One kid in my class, Lance, is always in trouble. He is always shouting out, saying rude and disrespectful things. Whenever I went up to him he would groan and mutter mean things about me "under his breath" (although it was all sufficiently loud to be understood). One day I asked him why he always groaned and said mean things to me, and I said it in a joking-"I will keep checking in on you kind of voice", and he just smiled to himself and turned away. On Thursday he was in the group described in the previous paragraphs, and although he saw his classmates freely leaving the group, he stayed, and seemed to want (although he did not actively seek) my assistance.

Also we have been running the after school program for the first time this week, and there is one kid in my teammate, Jeff's, class who apparently is the biggest negative influence in the class. I have made a really strong connection with him some how in after school. On Thursday he stayed behind after kids had gone down to snack, and when I suggested that he join them, he said he wanted to wait for me.

The smallest things weigh the most for me right now.

Not Hopeless

http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2010/09/29/cruel_boston/

A three year old was intentionally shot and killed in Boston. This is not hopeless, it is outrageous. I do not believe that anyone can be born "bad", although it is tempting to attribute an innate disposition to the horrors we hear of. Consequently, we do not have to try and comprehend how someone just like ourselves could murder a defenseless child. We choose not to grapple with the fact that we have been raised in the same society that can deform people to such an extent that they rip apart peoples' lives. The disturbing fact is that these murders are only surprising relative to the three year old. However, I find that I am not shocked when I hear of the murders that take place on a regular basis. I am not shocked and therefore unaffected. I am unaffected and therefore do nothing.

If we are not innately evil, then there must be potential for good. I think the question is what was missing in the lives of the murderers that made them who they have become. How can someone be deprived of a chance to exploit their goodness? My sense, based on my own upbringing, is that these people, as children, were not exposed to an alternative. These people, as adults, were given up as a lost cause. As alternatives, no matter how profoundly an alternate, we are obligated to provide that exposure. I think the more we take it upon ourselves to do this, the less likely our three year old neighbor is to be shot.

The founder of City Year, Michael Brown, envisions the national service movement expanding to such an extent that in addition to asking young people where they plan on attending college, we will be asking what they plan to do for their year of service. I graduated with a class of 300. Imagine 50% of my class chose to do a year of service, and each affected on average 2 people. Pretend 50% of all high schoolers in Columbus opted for a year of service and each profoundly impacted 2 people. Ripples start small, with individuals, but I think we must believe in their potential to spread and build upon each other. Finally, we will have a powerful movement of change, but we must take the first step as individuals.

I heard about this today and wanted to write in addition to what I wrote yesterday.

Nora

Experiences with the Kids

Next Monday I start working full time in the school. I will be there doing in class support from 7:40 until 3:30, and then I help run an after school program until 5:30. Recently I have been in the classroom a couple of days a week, during which time I have experienced some sparkling moments as well as many extended moments of trial. It is challenging for me to tap into patience and trust that eventually I will establish positive relationships with these kids. I seriously expect those fleeting sparkling moments to create for me a genuine respect and responsiveness. Wrong. Very wrong.

I have not been given the authority in the classroom to participate in the "redirection" program. Consequently, I have had to choose the battle that I will undoubtedly win (there are not many to choose from). Unfortunately, I am not very adept at identifying those guaranteed successes. I am continuously learning which battles I tend to lose the hard way. One of the more pointed lessons on this subject happened last week with a student named Terry who decided to make his desk a drum during the lecture. I thought it was strange that the teachers were not addressing this, and as I found it distracting, I assumed that other kids felt the same (however subconsciously). I finally told him to abstain. He looked up at me, faltered for a matter of seconds and continued. Not wanting to have a discussion while the teacher was talking, I backed off. Class 1 - Nora 0.

Last Thursday I finished the school day on a bad note. There is a girl in my class, Jewel, who is an infamous bully. I was sitting on the carpet with Lamont working on vocabulary when she walked by and said something to him that included the word "fish". I had just learned that this word is actually a derogatory term for homosexuals and that my school in particular had issues using it, but Lamont has no characteristics that are stereotypically associated with that sexual orientation, so I was struggling to figure out what had just happened. I tried to see if Lamont seemed negatively affected by what she had just said. He only looked slightly perturbed.

Finally, I asked him. She had called him "fish-lips". My mind started racing for what to say to reassure him of the inaccuracy of the statement without coming across cliche and mother-like. Finally I settled for "You know you're pretty good looking, right? Have people told you that before?"..... Failed.

I went out and talked to Her. Instead of engaging and asking Jewel questions, I talked at her, and every word was absorbed with a domineering smile. I told her that she had to find a time to apologize. Apparently he had called her "fish-lips" and "hippo". I said that I would address that later, but she had to redeem herself. I saw her enter the room with the same smile and seek out Lamont. I assumed the best. Lesson: Do not make a child lie.

Next thing I knew Lamont had disappeared. I went into the hallway where Jewel had returned. And Lamont was retreating rapidly towards the bathroom. I called him back over and stated that I understood that he had called Jewel mean names as well. She smiled. Lamont kept walking away denying that he had said anything. I didn't buy it and drew him over and said that he ought to apologize. Suddenly he started to cry and roll away from me saying that he had never called her any names. I looked at the smirking Jewel and understood that he wasn't lying. I could not deal with Jewel then as Lamont had worked himself into a real state and I felt obligated to calm him down. I walked him outside and started talking with him asking him questions. Apparently, when Jewel had apologized she said "sorry fish-lips". I felt awful for Lamont and having really exacerbated the bullying.

Looking back I would have changed everything in how I handled the situation. Unfortunately, I feel this way about many disciplinary scenarios I have dealt with thus far. Hopefully I will do well analyzing all these and make the necessary adjustments.

Wish me Luck.

Nora

Homeless Man

The contents of this website do not reflect in any way the positions of City Year or AmeriCorps. For official City Year policy see www.cityyear.org. (yes this has to happen)

Before I start, I want everyone to watch this 2 minute video clip on City Year from the perspective of a fifth grader- it is awesome!!!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yezc00Cj9q8&feature=player_embedded

I have been in Boston 5 weeks and with City Year for 1 month and already I am changing. I have been fortunate enough to be completely enveloped by people whose goodness manifests differently or more effectively than my own. Like osmosis, the actions of my teammates and roommates are affecting me beyond my control- I am just soaking it in and hopefully reciprocating. I could go on and on about individuals, but I will give you a quick picture assuming I will be writing about this a lot in the upcoming months.

Each Friday morning City Year (in every site across the country) does something called PT. We say the city year pledge and the PT chant and finally we do physical training (awesome moves that I am sure Kate will be happy to demonstrate for those of you in Columbus). Each team (each at a different school) has to conquer the PT routine (absolute uniformity and perfection) in order to earn an essential uniform part: the Timbaland boots.

My team was practicing Wednesday afternoon when a homeless man approached my teammate Lisa and started talking to her about City Year and how it's so great. He was clearly in no mood to end soon, and Lisa is the type of person that will listen attentively and reach out to everyone (barring the violent) and she was not about to cut this man off. Some members of my team were saying: "Come on we have to practice- say something nice to him and then cut him off as politely as possible". Others were laughing, because Lisa frequently has stories of crazy people that shout at her or talk to her in the street, and it was striking that in a large group of people this man chose her to talk to. I participated in both reactions. Finally, we told the man that we had to practice and we started to move.

After the man had left one of our team leaders (City Year corps members who have returned to lead teams for their second year of service), Sam, called us out saying that it is unacceptable to ever laugh at a man like that. The abruptness of his comment and an immediate reflection on my behavior really startled me and made me feel very dramatically down. It was one of those moments that affects you more than you can account for. Our other team leader, Kevin, picked up on how I was feeling (it was unfortunately visible) and quietly came over to me during our routine to make sure that I was alright. Not wanting to make a scene I shook my head indicating that I was fine.

I recovered a semblance of composure and another teammate Eliza, asked me what was wrong? I knew that if I opened my mouth, I would demonstrate the opposite of being okay (a state I wanted to be), so I kept it clamped shut and shook my head again. We finished our practice and she came up to me again, and this time I felt more at ease talking with her. When the team arrived back at head quarters Kevin pulled me aside despite my reassurances that my reaction wasn't in fact a reaction to anything. I was just in one of those weird moods. He disregarded this and asked me again what was wrong. It was nice that Kevin and Eliza not only noticed, but persisted in trying to help me out.

I write this story not to relay a drama that in reality makes me cringe, but instead to point out that in the course of an hour I observed 4 of my 17 member team acting in a way that I will reflect upon in the future and try to emulate. For this reason I love meeting new people. It is not always apparent to me when I am doing something that does not reflect my values or when I should be more actively good, but when I meet and get to know others I find so many specific ways that I can improve, and specifics really help. Getting to know new people acts like religion for me.

I would love to hear feedback from those of you reading this blog in the form of "comments" or whatever. I write this not only to keep people informed, but also to keep working on my writing, so constructive feedback is crucial!!!! Also I am introducing City Year terms that I have to keep in mind you may not be familiar with: corps member versus team leader, for example. If I need to clarify further these terms or anything else that I am writing about, Hit me up!!!

Until Next Week,

Nora

First Day of School

Wednesday was the first day of school at Boston Renaissance. I started out the day in the cafeteria where I am supposed to greet kids- addressing, by creating a warm environment, the attendance issue that many underperforming schools have. By 8:05 everyone is in the classrooms. I spent -and will spend until June- each day in the 6th grade classroom with 2 co-teachers, Mr. Cobble and Ms. Kennedy (pseudonyms), who teach english and social studies to two 6th grade classes. Both teachers are new to the school, to Boston, to City Year, and to each other. I found watching the teachers progress, often as a fly on the wall, very interesting. It is so easy to identify things I would change in their approach, which is probably why many teachers dislike having other adults in the room. Ms. Kennedy informed me yesterday that she had never had one other adult in the room let alone two. She didn't seem overjoyed at the prospect.

There are going to be many knots to work out among us. Happily, both teachers tried to find a place for me in the flow of chaos. They are not teaching subjects now, but instead are introducing the students to rules and expectations through a variety of activities. There was a lot of work for the students to do independently (a euphemism for silently)and I consequently spent most of the day wandering about the classroom trying to find ways to be helpful. I struggled to contain my assistance to merely answering questions, because inevitably there would be some conversational exchange during the "silent work period". One student was clearly not working on the time line of his life (4 main events), so I thought I would go over and give him a little incentive. He had only filled out 1 of the 4 squares, so I started asking him what he was thinking he'd do for the 2nd. He didn't know. I suggested enthusiastically the first day he went to school and to add a little pomp I gave my own description: walking into school with your uniform, backpack, and lunch box- smiley and excited. He didn't go to this school and didn't wear a uniform. This prompted a conversation with his neighbor and he was lost to me.

There is one kid in the class, Lamont, that has already been singled out as one of the students I will be focusing on this year. Lamont reminds me of flubber (Flubber, 1997, starring Robin Williams). He is up and down, this way and that- I have never seen one kid create such an impression of movement within a 2 ft by 2 ft area. Needless to say at recess he was tapping the rebound away from his jumping classmates that had a one foot advantage over him and like the road runner he would zoom around them to ensure that he got the tap himself. Although he's a basically good kid, his energy is a source of major distraction for his classmates let alone himself, so I have been working with him whenever he is supposed to be doing work independently. I've been talking with him about football and his aspirations in that field. It's been excellent, because I am able to keep him on task and he is able to let off steam. I think our group in the corner is going to grow over the course of the year, and I feel that I can be a real help playing this part.

My first full week of City Year training was a good one. Friday I was finally told the school and team with whom I will be working. There had been a lot of anticipation regarding this placement. I had my sights set on the National Charter House School (NCHS), which will serve as a national pilot program, testing various approaches and techniques that will further City Year's ultimate goal, addressing the high school dropout crisis. I did everything in my power to ensure my placement at this school, I spent a lot of time working on the application, I verbally assured the City Year staff that I was enthusiastic about the program and willing to learn (not easy for me), and I tried to ask them good questions about the work that they were doing at the school. Unfortunately, I was not accepted into that program. Instead, I am at the Boston Renaissance Charter School (BRCS) and really happy with the placement.

It turns out that at BRCS there will also be opportunities to lead students in activities that are not exclusively academic (something I thought was unique to NHCS) and I was less enthusiastic about NHCS after I found out that corps members are not actually involved in the actual data analysis collected at the school. I don't have any regrets about not being placed in that school. Any negative sentiment was especially wiped out when I started to get to know my team this past weekend at a retreat. There are 15 of us and everyone has had a unique and accomplished life (this should not be shocking due to a number of experiences indicating that people are generally interesting, however, the realization still manages to surprise me). Additionally, one of the girls on my team, Uma, is actually going to attend Oberlin next year- Small world!!!!!

One exercise that we did this weekend that I found particularly intriguing was a "Leadership Compass". Each direction, North, West, East, and South, stands for different leadership traits respectively, active, analytical, visionary, and empathetic. After due consideration, I determined that I am North-East, leaning more towards the East. I had started to think that I would never be able to figure out what leadership type I am, when I recalled a plan I had for making my house more environmentally sound this past summer. This plan rapidly grew to include organizing the basement, which, in turn, necessitated an organization of the garage and finally the entire house. It was a really good plan and I was really excited about it (as I am sure anyone I was hanging out with at the time will attest to). I had details hashed out, but when I tried to follow through, I was stuck. I felt bogged down by the enormity of the task. Definite East. At the retreat we drew a compass in the sand, and my team was spread evenly around the compass. Our opinions on where we stand on the compass may change as the year progresses, but the basic idea that within one team there is such a variety of strengths and abilities to support each other where we are weakest makes me excited to work within the team this year.

I will not start working full time in the schools until October 4. Until then I will be doing training at City Year headquarters and working occasionally at the school to help the teachers set up and to welcome the students to the school. We visited the school for the first time yesterday to meet the teachers with whom we will be working. Last year Boston Renaissance was located in a 13 story building in downtown Boston. Each grade had a floor, and there were over 1000 students packed into the building- a fact that made fire drills thrilling I'm sure. The school is transferring to a renovated old mill and it is an awe-inspiring building. There is exposed brick and wood in every room. Massive arching windows look out onto a turf field and track containing a jungle gym. Vibrant colors add life to every room. The interior of the school seems to reflect the school's philosophy of being open to learning through whatever path is most effective for the individual.

I went to a briefing on the school mechanics with the 4th-6th grade teachers today, and they spent a lot of time discussing and proposing different techniques to assist each other in making learning as fun as possible. One question was, "how do we communicate the school's behavioral expectations creatively, so the students are engaged and have fun, but also learn the material?" Several ideas were thrown out and one teacher was given the floor because she apparently did an excellent job last year. The other teachers seemed to genuinely appreciate her input and I saw many taking notes. They also discussed an activity called "open circle", which they hope to implement at least two days a week, and at which the kids will have an outlet to discuss problems and issues among fellow students or in their personal lives. In these 15 minute sessions the teacher is supposed to play a hands-off role and to serve as a guide assisting the students in problem solving skills and I am sure a number of other things. There are also typically 2 teachers per classroom that collaborate together and while one teaches the other assists by working with smaller groups or by simply walking around the room to ensure that the kids are all on the same track. The Boston Renaissance Charter School needs to improve (otherwise we wouldn't be there), but it seems to me that it is headed in the right direction and I am really looking forward to observing the school and how effective they are with their creativity and fun.

I am happy to announce that I had success in the job search. After three days of applications and resumes, I was contacted by an owner of a cafe that sells coffee and deli items and focuses on locally grown produce. I had turned in my application Friday morning and heard back from the owner that night. She asked me to come in for an interview the next day. It turns out that she actually did City Year in the 90s, and she was very sympathetic to my need for a second job. I feel incredibly fortunate. The cafe has a great atmosphere (I got free coffee just for the interview and the people seem really nice), it is also a 15 minute walk and 5 minute bike ride from my apartment, and the owner said that she knows City Year is really intense, so I should keep her updated as to how I am feeling and she fully understands if I need to take a weekend off (which I am not likely to do).

Please stay in touch and write comments if you suffer the urge!!

Nora

I'm in a New Local

I have finally moved into my apartment in Somerville which has surpassed my wildest expectations of how I would be surviving given my "livable wage". There are marble counter tops, wooden floors, a refrigerator and dishwasher, and it's spacious! My roommates and I (thanks to my aunt) have equipped the house with nice kitchenware and electronics. We have WiFi. The list of attributes goes on and on, but despite all of this my favorite part of the house is the relatively plain porch that is off my bedroom. Despite few outstanding merits, I keep being drawn out there to read or write this blog. Possibly sitting in a lawn chair exposed to the neighborhood that does not reflect the interior of this apartment feels the way living should considering my circumstances. There is definitely an appeal to having to "suffer": using ragged mouse-infested couches, shoving a wooden spoon in the microwave to make it shut, applying duct tape to everything that should stay in tact, and securing 5 locks at the end of the day because 1 is not sufficient. However, I must say in spite of myself that I am happy not to be contending with mice. I am very fortunate to be living in this apartment and for those of you who want me to experience life with less than perfect circumstances, have no fear.

I have been crunching the numbers and my weekly grocery bill has to be less than what I have already spent in my forth day in Boston- that is if I want to have any "fun" money. I will keep you updated as to how I maximize my income, because getting the greatest benefit for the least amount of money is a challenge that really engages me. In fact, after the completion of this blog I am planning on biking to the grocery store to examine which dairy products are the cheapest for the amount of protein, calcium and vitamin D they contain.

In order to to give myself a little more financial flexibility, I have decided to find a weekend job. I have spent the past couple of days biking around Somerville and Cambridge hunting for one. This process was not as easy as I thought it would be. I started out looking in Harvard Square (1.5 miles from my lodging and good tips). I was caught off guard by how many people were there; mid morning wrought preoccupied Harvard profs and students, massive crowds of families taking Harvard tours, smaller groups of families speaking foreign tongues and taking pictures. Taken aback, my mind would not permit my body to disturb the likely busy, and therefore ruthless potential employers. I was slightly disgusted by this rare flair of timidity, but I continued to wander around glancing at places thinking "they could be hiring...they could be hiring, etc." and I would float on.

Finally, I had enough of the nonsense and chose a cafe (which tend to house safe, friendly people) to try my luck. Success! Wow, who knew it could be that simple- I left application in hand. Barrier demolished, I hit a lot of cafes yesterday and by early afternoon I braved a restaurant. Turns out restaurant people are open and friendly too.

City Year training starts early Monday morning and extends throughout the month of September. We had registration day for the out of state corps members and people seemed really nice and although I tend to be reserved and reluctant when meeting new people, I am looking forward to getting to know the City Year Corps. The atmosphere there really puts me at ease. Corps members tend to be the type of people that willingly strike up a conversation with people they don't know, whether they have the skill to do this or not. I am confident I will be learning a lot this year.

I am also confident that I am forgetting to inform you of things that I made a mental note to write about, but I plan on updating this blog at least once a week, so if these observations stick, they will appear in later issues.

P.S. My roommates and I communicate in Spanish! Yahoo! That is except for David, but he responds in Portuguese, which awesomely enough, I can understand.

Until Later Next Week,

From Boston: Nora

World Cup and Fencing

The World Cup starts today and, I fear, will account for much of my time. However, I am going to excuse the hours I plan on spending in front of the TV by telling myself that watching the World Cup in Spain is actually a cultural experience. For me not to watch the World Cup would be like a foreigner, staying in Columbus in the fall, not witnessing an OSU football game- I would miss out on a unique and core aspect of Spain's culture. I was fortunate enough to be in Spain during the final days of the last World Cup, and I remember that when Spain played France (I believe in an effort to qualify for the championship), Pamplona's typically crowded streets and parks were dead. The silent anticipation felt volatile, like OSU campus when the football team is in the middle of a National Championship. I'm looking forward to the similar sense of culture and purpose, especially since I'm predicting that Spain will go far!

During the spring and summer in Pamplona people live to the upmost outside. Kids are constantly playing soccer in the plazas, the park, and even sidewalks. Young and old alike walk about and sit pensively on benches. In my daily walks and runs I see people standing in clusters and sitting on benches chating with animation. Mercedes, the mother of Rafael, left the house the other day to go for a walk. 5 hours later she returned. While in the U.S. such a disappearance might have caused worry or even panic, in Spain, one does not go on a quick walk without expecting some social encounter to delay the termination of the walk for an hour or more. This constant activity and sense of energy in the Great Out Doors is one aspect of Spanish culture that I would adopt and bring to the U.S. if I could.

Last weekend I accompanied Conchita to the end of the year festival that David and Kevin's school put on. There were some aspects of the festival that one could find in the U.S.: an inflated castle, an ice cream stand, and water balloon fights. There were, in addtion, many soccer, basketball and running competitions among teams from each grade that maintained a high level of entertainment for me. Finally, there were exhibitions by the jai-do and fencing classes. After the fencing demonstration, an announcement was made offering audience members an opportunity to try fencing themselves. Naturally, I jumped at this opportunity, but then I observed that the oldest person lining up could not exceed 7 years of age. I had a brief vision of fencing against an obstinate 6 year old, which concluded in my jabbing him so hard with my sword (completely unable to shun my competitive nature despite the circumstances) that the entire crowd booed me, so I decided to remain on the sidelines. Conchita, familiar with my affinty for any activity, encouraged me to line up, but I pointed out that I would not be comfortable competing against a child. She waved this aside and proceeded to the woman that was helping the instructor and requested that I fence against the instructor. Well, this was not exactly what I had had in mind. Ideally, I would be taking on a boy my age and would defeat him soundly. I was not as keen on being demolished by an expert, or worse being handed the match. However, by this time the situation was beyond my control, so I went with it, trying to appear as comfortable as possible. When I put on a chest plate with room for breasts, the observing crowd that had been dispersing began to thicken once again. Children stared at the older girl that was going to partake in this violent activity.

The competition did not go too poorly. The instructor was generous enough to look like he was making an effort, although I found out later that he had fenced with his weaker hand. I lost 5 to 1. We were given 3 minutes in which to fight, and I was shocked (as I typically am with any activity I am not familiar with) at how fencing in a contained area tried my conditioning as much as it did. And as always I was really happy that I had tried it.

In the upcoming weeks I am going to try and include pictures in this blog, and hopefully I will eventually figure out how to include more than one.

Adios For Now!

De La Cuidad De San Fermin

Greetings from Spain!!!

I'm on the move again. Saturday, May 29 I left Columbus for Pamplona, Spain, where I will be spending the next couple of months.

I arrived in Madrid early Sunday morning where I was greeted by Rafael, Kevin, and David Martinez. There are 9 members of the Martinez family, although when they left Columbus 10+ years ago there were but 5. The oldest of the 7 children is Adela who became my closest friend shortly after her arrival to the U.S. in kindergarden. Through this connection our families became well acquainted and since they left the U.S. after my second grade year, we have maintained that connection. Members of both families have crossed the Atlantic in order to improve either their spanish or english communication skills.This is my third venture to Spain and 5 days ago my ability to communicate felt woefully similar to my first visit 4 years ago.

When I first came to Spain in 2006 I had had only 2 years of Spanish and conversations were possible only under the assistance of constant interpretation. This time I arrived confidantly with 5 years of Spanish under my belt and decent test scores to back me up. My swagger faltered slightly when I met the 3 Martinez waiting for me and I could recall naught but the most basic Spanish: ''Hola'' and ''¿Como estas?''. No problem. Surely this blankness of mind was due to the sleep I could not obtain during my 8 hour flight. ''Just give it time '', I told myself.

Next thing I knew I was in the village of Rafael's ancestors meeting mothers, great aunts and second cousins, and my confidence gave out like the wind. Here were these generous faces gazing at me expectantly and I could only smile blankly and stutter on.

After a couple of hours I accepted that I would have to struggle as if I was working with only a few years of the language. I settled into the background, observing the family and attempting to take in as much Spanish as possible. This was fairly easy, for our next order of business was to go to an outdoor mass in honor of the last day of the month of Mary at which several villages gathered and celebrated. I'm sure that this has to be the best mass children of the villages ever attended, for they were permitted to play at the perifery of the service and throughout the duration of the mass there persisted subtle shrieks of glee.

Internal tension again mounted when we returned to the Martinez house in the village for lunch. I knew I would be expected to voice opinions and desires and generally participate in conversation. Older members of the family began to gather in the kitchen and with each addition there was a crescendo of noise, for each time a voice was added voices near had to escalate slightly, and like a wave oscillating between 2 equal forces, so went the chatter as each group had to make itself heard over the one next to it. I strained to understand the basic ideas of the 7 different conversations for fear that I would be asked a question regarding the subject matter of any one. I relaxed as I was not expected to work as hard as I had anticipated and was consequently able to enjoy the excitment and merriment of the chatter. I was permitted to take a nap before we drove the 3 hours to Pamplona and had only to say adios the remainder of the day.

Fortunatly, in the 5 days that have passed since last Sunday my Spanish has begun to catch up with me and I am much more capable of understanding conversations and slightly more capable of contributing to them. I have started to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows in Spanish and due to my history with the book, I have been able to reintroduce words to my vocabulary and learn new ones. In the meantime, I read Anne of Green Gables in English (the Martinez own a good selection of childrens books in English). I was completely sucked in and since I finished, have gottan myself a library card and obtained the second and third books in the series in Spanish. Harry Potter will be on hold for a while.

Hasta la semana proxima-

Nora

P.S. I apalogise for any spelliing aarors- this computor corrects only Spanish and ass of yet I have not been able to figure out whterh checking anglish is posibñe.

What It's Like To Be Home

My schedule was simple in Kenya. Teach, plan the lesson, eat, read, and run. I cannot remember ever feeling unproductive. Everything I did was for some specific result, whether to stay in shape, finish a book, or prepare myself for the upcoming class. The possibility of sitting around with nothing to contribute to both community and self was not on the radar. Even when I was physically doing nothing, I was meditating. It was impossible to have a blank screen with my subconscious constantly adjusting to my surroundings.
I returned home about a month ago. In that time I have managed to put on weight, watch episodes of Gilmore Girls I have already seen at least three times, and generally wonder what I did at the end of the day. Lack of meaningful activity leaves one with the sense of lethargy and malcontent and in response; I have tried to establish clear goals to fruitfully occupy my time. I have started working a few shifts at Jeni’s a week, I babysit once a week, and I am determined to contribute to progress on the house. However, I am still answering to the call of the Gilmore Girls like an addiction and taking “quick” peaks at my facebook page. I believe these mundane occupations account for more of my time than I am comfortable acknowledging. I am constantly striving for productivity and consistently falling short.
While I am still working on changing the unfortunate aspects of my life above, I am doing one thing fulfilling to counterbalance. Kate and I have established a basketball routine over the past couple of weeks in which we play one-on-one before she goes to school three days a week. In order to do this we must wake up at 6 am and be out the door by 6:15 which gives us enough time to play for about 45 minutes. The reason I love doing this is that is does not directly benefit me; it is external. I have continued to play even when I would really rather sleep in or stop due to back pain and exhaustion. It’s when I persevere for something greater than that moment of legitimate reasons for me to quit that I feel like a true contributor. I suppose these feelings I am having are just part of the challenge in life: how to maximize our time here. And whether we succeed must depend on our honesty and determination, because I know that I am not going to turn around tomorrow and all of a sudden start working effortlessly for the cause of others. I may never fully succeed in that endeavor but I cannot allow myself to become discouraged by my own shortcomings.

Corporal Punishment

A couple of weeks ago I played charades with my 4th grade creative arts class. They acted out (however reluctantly) everything from Rhianna to elephants. One option I included was our Head Teacher: Mr. Korir. The kid that pulled out his name hesitated momentarily and then proceeded to to air whip an invisible miscreant; Mr. Korir was immediately identified by the surrounding class. At the time I found this very funny possibly because I had only witnessed the occasions where the kids got hit once on their bum for forgetting their handkerchief at dinner or for neglecting to change out of their school uniforms for P.E. lessons. It didn't seem too bad. Teachers walking around with their honed sticks used for easily accessible whips is a part of life at Lessos Educational and this form of punishment is something that I've become accustomed to.
Last Friday I walked into my creative arts lesson and sat in the back for a while waiting for the Kiswahili teacher to finish. She was strolling the aisles of the classroom asking a question, and to all that raised their hands (80% of the class) she gave a sound slap on the back with her handy stick. Although the students cringed before each hit, they nonchalantly rubbed their backs afterward knowing more was to come. I didn't find the sight so entertaining. It had been put in perspective for me a few days earlier by a conversation I had had with students about life at the school.
The previous Monday I sat outside with a couple of kids trying to convince them to play cards with me. After several rebuffs, I gave up, and asked them instead what they think of Kenya. This question has been burning in my brain for a while, because every Kenyan I have talked to has wanted to leave Kenya for either the UK or US. They rarely have anything positive to say about Kenya beyond brief comments on the climate and geography. I wanted to know what they liked about Kenya; if they were to leave, what would they miss? Typically the conversation spun towards education, which it seems is a main reason for getting out of the country. We wound around to Lessos Educational, and I found out, to my surprise, that many of the students are unhappy here. A 6th grader named Silas tried to explain it to me.
He started, eying warily my cards, by saying that if they were to be caught simply within the vicinity of cards they would be beaten. He recalled one of my first nights in Lessos when I taught him and a kid named Eugene how to play chess. A teacher (infamous for his affinity to make good use of his stick) had come up ready to "murder" them, which they escaped because they had asked me to get permission from the head teacher for the lesson.
A few girls told me that the teachers often won't stop the beating until the student cries. Silas compared peoples' reactions to the thrashings to drug addicts. They get to a point where they don't care about their test results because they know they'll get beaten anyway for missing one answer, so why not fail? The result is the same. They have so adjusted to the overwrought abuse, they no longer fear it. As we made our way to the dinner line, Silas pointed out another six grader who had been hit 24 times the previous day for participating in the mad scramble for seconds at dinner. The teacher with the inclination to use the stick walked past just then and smiled at me. The conversation came to a screeching halt.
That night I went to the six grade study session to continue the conversation that had broken off. Luckily we had a black out that night and I could talk to the students more freely, without having to fear a teacher walking in to see them not studying or catching any of our conversation. I went to the far side of the room to sit down, and I heard the scratching of the desks as they were pulled around me; I could barely make out the students teeth and the whites of their eyes. They wanted to know what I thought of the discipline.
I had decided that they ought to know that these punishments would not be accepted in America. I told them that the great thing about America is that people can challenge laws and advocate change; they have input into government beyond the representatives and presidents they elect. The six graders were shocked that a child could sue a teacher for touching him, claiming abuse. I told them that I didn't necessarily agree with the outcome of these cases challenging the constitution, but I now appreciate more the process. Kenyans have no such outlet.
When they asked me what I thought of corporal punishment (not the exact term they used), I faltered. What did I think of it? I have heard before someone say: "If you don't do the right thing for the right reason, then you'll do the right thing because you fear the consequence". I am inclined to agree with this statement, however, when institutions adopt this policy, they risk putting a weapon in the hands of people that are perhaps addicted to the power, or too readily get carried away. Is it worth the risk?
I told them all of this because I hope that they would be more inclined to fight it if they are aware of a different way of doing things, as opposed to yearning even more to flee. I want them to feel that Kenya can change if they feel that is necessary. However, there would be so much at stake. Under the President Moi, people were secretly tortured for challenging his government, fortunately one escaped and was able to reveal to the people what had happened. It is not as easy as it is now in the U.S.

From the Base of the Nile

GOOD MORNING UGAAAANDA!!!!!!!!!

Greetings from the town of Jinja at the base of the Nile in Uganda. I have just had one of the most action packed weekends of my life, and naturally love it. Thursday night we arrived at the base of all activities, and also where we stayed most of the time. Friday we were prevented from doing much of anything because of the torrential rains. Saturday was when the real fun began. I woke up bright and early Saturday morning in anticipation of launching myself from a cliff and into a 45 metre free fall. Bungee jumping was surreal. I can't even describe it, because it almost felt like I wasn't falling. Before hand I was oddly calm, and I really didn't have to fight myself when I flung myself into the long drop... Immediately afterwards we went white water rafting, which was not nearly as exhilarating, but was still fun and beautiful. This lasted two days, and we all got pretty beat up from the sun and the occasional capsize (the best part).

One of the guides had a girlfriend from the UK that was actually an AV ten years ago. She currently runs a micro finance organization, organizing groups of people into a loan community where individuals hold each other accountable for their loans. It is sustainable, and slowly but surely the organization has been able to grow. They do a lot of training for work like carpentry and computer. It sounds amazing. Like Dr. Paul Farmer this lady, that goes by the name of Jena, didn't jump straight into the Ugandan community without thoroughly researching first. After having joined several similar organizations, and deciding that they did not have the most efficient and accurate solution, she decided to find out what she thought herself, and lived, cut off from everything else, in an Ugandan community for 9 months. She said that after each month she would come up with a different conclusions and solution for what the community needed.

What I found interesting was that after leaving Uganda as an AV, she knew that she wanted to return. This is something I have been struggling with, because for as long as I can remember, I have wanted to work and live in Africa. However, I feel that the more I am out of the US (this was true of Spain as well), the more I appreciate my own culture as opposed to the culture I'm in. I think the aspect of US culture that I miss the most is feminism. I came to Africa expecting women to be considered if nothing more than less contributing factors in society, and I didn't think that would bother me, especially as it wouldn't be a surprise. Instead, I have found that the form this lack of respect takes does surprise and shock me. Women are disregarded in marriages, because almost every husband cheats on their wives. Like with many problems that poison a society, this unfortunate commonality is true of even the nicest and most considerate men, who, having grown up this way, don't think of it. One of the girls in the eighth grade class told me that the only way for this to be solved is for women to separate themselves from men, working and living on their own, so that wives are in higher demand, and therefore, are treated with more equality. I agree with her. I don't really see women joining together in an uprising commanding attention and a change, although I'm sure that any observer could have said the same of America in the late 1800s early 1900s. Time will tell.

Until a few weeks from now.

Nora.

How am I adjusting to the Kenyan lifestyle?

I have no exiting motorbike races to capture your attention, so instead I have decided to talk about day-to-day affairs such as eating habits, cleanliness, and maybe more if something else hits me.

My diet currently consists of 10 items: bread, peanut butter, bananas, avocados, onions, pasta, beans, rice, tomatoes, and the occasional egg. This is nothing compared to the 6 item diet of the borders at my school. They have ugali (a bread-like, dense, and grainy Kenyan staple) and scones for breakfast, porridge at tea time, beans and rice for lunch, and ugali and cabbage for dinner. Yum. I have taken quite a liking to ugali. It hasn't got much in the way of taste, but the consistency is nice and it fills a stomach. Food is probably last on the list (which doesn't really exist) of things I am missing from home. I never crave anything in the way of meat, dairy, or baked goods. Some other AVs go crazy over meat on the weekends, but I have enjoyed the vegetarian diet.

Cleanliness here is something else. Despite the fact that it is valued highy here (I have had several people comliment me on the lack of dirt under my nails), it is hard to come by. I have no problem having to use the long drop or even the process of having to use a bucket for a shower. However, I shower twice a week at best because our water supplies are limited and it is a bit of a hassle having to heat water (which was once in the form of rain and isn't really clean anyway). The only parts of my body that recieve a consistant washing are my face, hands, and feet. Yes, my feet are in the equation, because they are the one part of my body that I can't bear to let ferment.

It's interesting to me that things like easy shower, toilet, and food access I thought I would miss so much, but even when they are available it is not a big relief. I think about individuals and culture more than those conveniences (although a dishwasher and clothes washer would be nice).

I cannot believe I almost negected to inform you that I have just finished one of the best boks of all time: The Autobiography of Malcolm X. It's very interesting to have read that hear in Kenya because Malcolm X advocated a renewal of pride as a way to remove the racial barriers. He said that the black man would achieve nothing if he didn't organize with other black men who shared a pride in their race and ethnicity. Pride is something that is unfortunalty lacking here in Kenya. This has become especially apparent to me having finished this book. Two women we met in town were talking about being white in a fashionable sense. Apparently, many women here not only chemically srteighten and soften their hair, but also take chemicals that make their skin lighter. This makes me sad, especially in light of Malcolm X who abhorred this type of thing. I just want to shout at these women that I am proud of being white and they should be proud of being black. It does make me consider, however, that really the same phenomenon is true back home with people ruining their skin and hair trying to make it something that it's not.

Until Next Time (Hopefully, although probably not, next Week)

Nora

Kenyan Kindness Act 1

Wow I have been in Kenya for just under three weeks!

I have had a very eventful week (it is hard not to as a foreigner emerged in a strange culture). I have learned so much. I will start off by relaying to you this really exciting and encouraging story. Last weekend we (the AVs) went to Eldoret, and unfortunately, my roommate, Libby, lost her ipod on the journey. This was so sad, as so many memories hve already been made surrounding that ipod and the handy speakers that allow us all to enjoy. On Teusday Sophie and I walked into Lessos in order to buy more supplies. As I have visited multiple cities of varying sizes and demographics, I have observed that the Kenyan people, no matter where they're from, are friendly. This has been a bit of a shock to me, because the people in Lessos, while friendly and open compared to western standards, are cold in light of the greater Kenyan community. As Sophie and I made our way back to the school, my observation turned to frustration, and I decided to test the town by saying "Jambo" to everyone I saw (you may be surprised to note that the most petulent-looking people most often had the warmest responses). As I stocked out of town, aggressivly saying Jambo to everyone, a lady beckoned me into her shop. Taken aback, I was reluctant, not in the mood, but Sophie and I followed. We made casual conversation for seconds before she slyly asked if we had lost anything. She wasn't familiar with the ipod, but recognised MP3 player, and my descriptions of stars suck on it. She faltered long enough for Sophie and I to ask her whether she had it in her possetion at least five times. She went on smiling (I couldn't figure out if she was gong to demand some sort of compensation). Finally she went around her counter and pulled it out. Sophie and I were electric. She said she didn't want anything in return, but finally accepted our money (we plan to opt for her shop in the future). It just so happened that when we got out of the taxi to Eldoret, and chose a matatu instead, the ipod had slipped out of Libby's pocket in front of her store. Boy was I grounded, thrown off my high-jambo saying horse.

A similar situation happened yesterday. We are in Kisumu (city of Obama and they know it) this weekend and in order to get here, we hopped a matatu with three boys stationed at a school near us. The matatu needed to be looked at, so we were tranfered to another at a town, about an hour into our (uncomfortable, but very attractive) journey. I got out first, as I had been sitting in the front (stratyegically choen by me... far higher level of comfort than those in back), I was the first out and the first to choose the front of the next matatu. There was comotoin behind me, and since my colleagues hadn't joined me, I went to investigate. Apparently, Immy had her phone stolen, and a taxi driver among other towns people claimed that they saw the woman that had done it. The taxi driver (not a car taxi, but motorcycle) offered to go after her, so James (an AV) jumped on back with him. A couple minutes later, Jack went down the road to try and spot James, and another taxi/motorcycle driver offered to give him a lift. I couldn't help but laughing despite the circumstances when I learned all this. It was so funny and bizarre. James returned about 10 minutes later, and made his way through the crowd that had gathered to stare for their friday afternoon entertainment. He had several scratches on his arm. During the intensity of the race, the taxi driver had taken a turn too quickly and both he and James flew off. Neither was hurt badly, but the taxi driver was worse off. On top of everything, the taxi driver didn't demand to be paid, and said he had just wanted to help. Thankfully, James did pay him. Jack returned a bit later and the driver wasn't as generous. It goes both ways.

Yet again, I have so much to say, but money and time confine me. Until next week.

Nora

Nine Days in Kenya

Hey Everyone!!!
I have finally managed internet access. I am in the town of Lessos, a 5 minute walk from my school: Lessos Educations Center. It is a private bording school, and today is my second day teaching. Yes, teaching, not sitting on the sidelines. I have a total of 17 classes, 4 secondary (high school) and 13 primary. Today I had 2 early P.E. classes with standards (grades) 1 and 4. It has been amazing how much young kids love mzungos (whites). They are always touching us and chasing us down the road. The other day my roommates (Immy, Libby, and Sophie) and I were walking back after having shopped for some food supplies, and a group of small kids chirped in chorus from about 50 yards away: ''How are you?''. I yelled back ''Fine. How are you?'', to which they screamed and ran away. Very funny. So far the attention has not gottan old and I doubt it will.
In the secondary school, I have a math, english, and history class. I say this in the singular form, because I will only be teaching each subject once a week, and the full time teacher eill be covering it the rest of the time. This means that I have to come to each class prepared to ask them where they left off, and then progress form there. So far I have only taught primary Creative Arts and P.E. I started to plan my history lesson yesterday, which I was excited about, feeling that I could assist the most in this arena. The chapter is ''The History of Communication and Transport''. Alright. I started to read through it, and I felt my confidence falter. It listed each animal that has been used for transport and where. It then expanded upon the develpoment of wheels... Very straightforward. Hard to compare. What is the relevance for this information today? It will be much harder than I thought to encourage the students to question the ideas presented, as they are not ideas, but simply fact. Very challenging, but I am up to it and I have until monday afternoon to expand upon my initial ideas.
The Head Teacher is very enthusiastic about having AV's (people in our program). It seems that they have had excelent AV's in the past, so we have a high standard to breach. The other teachers do not show their enthusiasm so readily, although most have been nice and welcoming. I have been trying to attend the daily tea in the ''teachers lounge'' in order to strike up conversations with the teachers, but I have found my inquires most often lead to a dead end. However, they find me very funny. I'm not sure I'm laughing with them.
Our house is in the middle of the school, and I've been woken up around 6 every day by children running about (they wake up at 4). I have no running water or shelves in my room, but I have found the house to be comfortable. Perhaps this is because I have avoided the shower... but in any case. Dishes have become a routine for us, although laundry is still a bit of a struggle.
I have so much to say, but I will wait to expand for this weekend. All AV's are going to the city Eldoret for a nice shower, food, etc. There I will have fast and easy internet access.
I am reminded of you all constantly. Little things. Especially Bobbi...
I love it here, but I am being safe and forward thinking. I miss you all, but not too much stay in touch. My mailing address is:
Nora Ryan
Lessos Education Center
Box 335
Lessos 30302
Kenya

Cheers.
Nora

Where Will I Be?

I have uploaded a few pictures from the Internet of the region where I'll be staying. The Rift Valley encompasses a large part of Kenya, so I will not necessarily be seeing the images depicted here, but one can hope.















As you can see I will be located in Western Kenya near the town of Eldorat and Lake Victoria in the Rift Valley.

















I would like to upload pictures as I progress in my stay, but as I currently own a 35 mm, and am skeptical that the Internet cafes will have scanners, I might have to wait until my return to the US.