I spent last term working at an international refugee center in Chicago. It was, to say the least, an absolutely wonderful experience, perhaps even the best ten weeks of my short life.
When I first decided to apply for a Tucker Fellowship, I talked to a lot of people who had received them in the past. The people that I talked to about their great off-term experiences all had a certain glow in their faces. They all seemed so together, like they had figured "it" out - whatever it was - while they were away. Everyone seemed to return to Dartmouth with a new enthusiasm for life in general. I didn't think the same thing would happen to me. I couldn't really understand how my life could be significantly changed during a few short months, but I did hope that I would have some sort of life-altering experience. The fall and winter terms at Dartmouth had left me with the impression that, well, my life could use some altering. I decided to go to Chicago, even though I was petrified.
I left Dartmouth clutching two suitcases and hanging on to my pound puppy for dear life. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I had to adjust to a new city, three roommates that I didn't know, and a full-time job. It was pretty scary. While trying to settle into my new life, I got lost on the streets more than a few times, had a few run-ins with some freaky people on the subway, and then began to absolutely love my happy little existence.
I loved my job and felt very fulfilled by it. I taught Vietnamese and Cambodian adults English and tutored Ethiopian refugee children in algebra, reading and writing. The strength and courage of the children and adults were continually inspiring to me, and I knew that I was making a difference in their lives. At the end of the day, I walked home along the lake shore bike path, cooked one of my favorite recipes, and then relaxed. There were no research papers, no deadlines and no meetings to go to. I had time for myself and the things I wanted to do most. I spent my free days at he museums. I ate in little ethnic bakeries. I was lonely at first, but I eventually realized that being alone isnŐt necessarily synonymous with feeling lonely. I felt completely at peace for one of the first times in my life. Instead of stressing about life and what it means, I was truly living it.
The ten weeks were over before I knew it. I cried when I said good-bye to all the kids and the people I'd met and the city that I had grown to love. But I was excited to come back to Dartmouth to see my friends and to participate in the activities that I'd been missing. I was looking forward to falling asleep in the afternoon sun on the Green, hearing the Baker bells, and hiking Velvet Rocks.
Now that I'm back on campus, I'm still trying to ascertain the ways in which my life changed while I was in Chicago. I think that I smile more now than I used to, and laugh like I don't have a care in the world. When I wake up in the morning, I feel the beauty of the sun and the precious nature of each day, and I feel at peace.
I still don't get it all. In fact, I'm still extremely clueless about a great many things. What I do realize is that doing something I love -- helping others -- is more than enough to keep me happy. I've always known that I want to make a difference in the world. Now I know that I can, because I have, and that I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.
Fellowships |
Dartmouth Community Services |
Religious Life |
Issues of Conscience
Main Page |
Contents |
Newsletters |
Send Mail