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.