I googled myself today, which is an interesting thing to do. I was googling myself because I have one student in particular who is INCREDIBLY interested in whether or not I identify as conservative or liberal. His reasons include, but are not limited to: my short hair (which obviously demonstrates my adoration of Hilary Clinton), the fact I seem to like immigrants (liberal – this is America), the fact I’m from West Virginia (conservative here), and other ideas.
I was really interested by a couple things I found, as I forgot they even happened in the first place.
As I was working to raise money for Tanzania back in 2013 (very similarly to trying to raise money for the students to go work in Peru this summer), a local paper from home wrote a piece on my fundraising. The last part, in particular, feels incredibly familiar to me now, as I am constantly questioning “signs” from God, or proof that I’m doing what I should be doing – in and out of the classroom.
“Before this opportunity, Putorek never understood people who said God called them to do something. Now, she gets it completely.
‘I’d always heard people say, ‘God will call you; you have a purpose,’ and I thought, ‘Yeah. Right,’’ she said. ‘Now, I understand, because if there ever was a calling, this is it. I have to go. I have to get to Africa to do what I can to help children, and while I’m there, I’m going to be an ambassador for Princeton, W.Va.’
Even with her faith propelling Putorek toward Tanzania, doubts still creep in when she considers the massive fundraising undertaking.
This week, however, she believes God sent her a sign.
While helping her mom move furniture ahead of a paint job in her room, Putorek found a short story she wrote in middle school. It told the story of a young woman visiting Africa to serve.
‘I found this story last night under the bottom shelf of a drawer, and I knew this was a sign. This is a sign that God is telling me I’m supposed to go,’ she said. ‘I think you just need to look closely and listen, and God will tell us all where we’re supposed to be and what He wants us to do. Why else would I find one story that I wrote years ago, under the bottom of a drawer?
‘I don’t feel like this story is finished either. I feel like I’m supposed to go to Africa so that I can finish it.'”
Who would have guessed over 9 years since I wrote a short story in 9th grade english about a humanitarian in Africa, I would have visited the continent and would, in turn, be TEACHING 9th grade English. Life is funny that way.
In the very same way this newspaper article startled me today at it’s relevance, another blog post caught me off guard. In the wake of my Tanzanian trip, I wrote multiple editorials and blog posts for school credit while at Marshall. A blogger, and former Peace Corps volunteer, reached out and asked that I write a guest blog post for her website. I happily obliged, and what I wrote still feels true, though were I to write on the same topic today, some phrases and words might be a tad different.
Greetings from 2014 Halie via “Culture Shock”!
“Culture Shock: As I walked into my Race, Culture and Development course on the first day of my semester, I noticed a few things in particular. I noticed an overwhelming presence of African American members of sports teams that were in the class. I also noticed the somewhat obvious separation.
The white population took up the middle of the classroom, leaving our African American peers with the outer seats. I realized somewhere deep in my soul, however, that we as Americans have become so used to separation and discrimination that this seating arrangement would seem ‘normal’ to most people.
However, due to the very nature of this class, the very first words out of my teacher’s mouth was something to the effect of: ‘Does anyone else notice anything wrong with the way you are all seated?’ Everyone looked around, some chuckled lightly, while some looked surprised.
This past June, I had the opportunity to volunteer in Moshi, Tanzania for four weeks. I found myself acting in the role of ‘mwalimu,’ or English teacher, to approximately twenty young students whose ages ranged from two to six. My students were what you would expect: eager to learn, eager to play, and eager to unknowingly teach this eager ‘mzungu’ more than she could ever anticipate.
‘Mzungu’ is a Swahili word that literally translates into ‘white person.’ I wonder if any of you reading this have ever felt like a celebrity? Have you heard your name shouted over and over? Have you been the victim of unwanted attention, glares, and even sometimes-angry words?
How about unearned compliments and thanks? Believe me when I say, if you have never experienced this first hand, that celebrity status is never as glamorous as they make it seem in movies. In fact, while in Tanzania, I didn’t actually have a name. I was a minority group, a ‘mzungu,’ and more often than not, ‘Dada,’ or sister. But even if one of my friends knew my name or called me sister, I was still a member of a minority group that brought the stigma of being full of untapped intelligence, funds, and chocolate.
My students sometimes liked to refer to me as ‘mzungu’ if they thought I wasn’t paying attention to them. Body language, lucky for me, is an incredible cross-cultural tool with which I became well acquainted whilst in Moshi. I would simply look at my students after they called me ‘mzungu’ and they immediately returned to ‘mwalimu’ or simply Halie (pronounced Hay-Leeeeee). One time, I even went so far as to insist that I was not a mzungu at all. That naturally received skeptical looks and giggles.
Why am I telling you these stories, you may ask? Well, friends, we are standing at a crossroad of sorts. Every day on the news, stories of discrimination and racially motivated hatred fill the screens. I find myself saddened and scared for the future of our world. I live in an area of the country particularly susceptible to narrow-mindedness. I say this, however, being proud of where I come from.
I blame lack of education and perspective in most instances of prejudice. People are much like trees, I’ve found. They become most rooted in the soil that feeds their beliefs and ideologies. If one plants roots in soil consumed with prejudice and misunderstandings, that is the type of tree one becomes.
Somehow, I’ve always felt like a palm tree among evergreens that insist on remaining the same – year in, year out. I am the lucky one, as I’ve always felt compassion and equity in regards to people that may look and act differently than me.
My time in Tanzania was much more than any number of titles and ‘names,’ however. I was able to climb a part of Mt. Kilimanjaro, visit a Massai tribe, go on Safari, and interact with local Tanzanians on a familiar level in some instances. Even now, months later, I look back on my time in Tanzania with an urgent desire to return. I feel very sure that I am not finished learning from the incredible people I met.
While I was in Tanzania, I had the opportunity to write for my school paper, as well as blog on a regular basis. I have come to appreciate the immense importance of spoken and written word. All of the class discussions in my Race, Culture and Development class remind me of a very important fact: each individual is the product of their life experiences.
I am so fortunate I have seen what I have seen, and learned what I have learned. In one of my blog posts, I reiterate my deep love of Tanzania. I wanted to include this, as an example of the importance of cross-cultural exploration and understanding. Our world only works when we accept other cultures and when we embrace the idea that we as individuals might not know as much as we think.”
I felt humbled to write for that blog, to have that newspaper write about my fundraising, and I feel even more humbled to find myself in my current role as teacher and learner. I hope the final words of my guest blog post leave you feeling motivated to, again, find strength in our shared experiences, rather than fuss and fight over titles and separations; about who is right…or MORE right. I hope if my student were to google me and find this post or those other posts from years ago, he recognizes how much I am still growing and changing my idea of what makes this world work. I hope he knows how much value I see in him, even when I wish he would just let my personal life ,and hairstyles, be. Oh, the joys of teaching.
“Take a few moments during the day to look out at the world around you. Know that you are totally insignificant, and realize that at most, you only find individual significance in those closest to you. Your friends and family recognize your worth and value, and they certainly love you. Those people that find value in you, in turn gain significance from those around them. In this way we are all connected. This connection between individually insignificant people is the catalyst of change. Without the realization of personal insignificance, nothing will change for the better.”
Halie
haliewanders 