On Tuesday nights I go tutor Somalians. I do it through an organization called SALT. I think it stands for Somali Adult Literacy Training. I'm doing it through my Cultural Communication class. Well, we're required to do it for class. By the end of the semester I will have over twenty-four hours under my belt so, technically speaking, I will have spent one day with a person from another culture.
If you want to get technical, we spend every day with a person from another culture. At least this is what I learned in my class and have observed since then. For example, go to taco night and see who orders a hard shell and who orders a soft shell. I grew up always having soft shell while my roommate grew up always having hard shell. Cultural/Experiential difference. Another example, have macaroni and cheese and ask people what they usually put on their "mac & cheese." I grew up always having ketchup available. I found out early in my college career that this is super weird. Others think putting ketchup on eggs is normal while I think it is disgusting (sorry mom). Others think putting ham in their "mac & cheese" is weird. Again, cultural differences.
So to get more technical I am revising "The List." I am changing it from "spend an entire day with a person from another culture" to "spend an entire day with a person from a different ethnicity."
Now, you could probably get technical about that one too but let's just pretend we won't. I blame on my technicality on my other class, which is Media Law. Hooray for "legal-eeze" language!
Now, I've only been there once, and tonight will be my second time, so I cannot give a huge amount of detail on how things work. So, I will just share my experience from my first time there.
The first fifteen to twenty minutes was "training" and welcoming. I met some regulars who were my age, and cool. There was Amanda, who knits, and Sarah, who lives in the inner-city for outreach and missions. There were more but these two seemed like the regulars.
I mostly stood by them, because I was nervous and didn't know what else to do. The Somalians were already having class but for break they came in and had tea. The regulars sat and talked with them while I just kind of stood there, not knowing what to do. Sarah introduced me to some of them and I shook one of their hands. I was told not to initiate a handshake unless they initiate it first. So I just smiled and stood there.
There are three levels of tutoring. I was with the middle group, where they know basic sentences and that is about it.
Right as I was about to follow Amanda and help her tutor the middle group it was sunset. Because the majority of the Somalians are Muslim they pray five times a day and sunset is one of those times. So a little fifteen minute break and then the tutoring got started.
I helped Amanda teach three men about maps and directions. I taught left, right, and straight. I'm not sure they caught on but I tried. We worked on spelling and pronunciation also. About five minutes in I was so grateful I learned English. English is such a hard language! I was trying to make the sounds for the word "bus" and he kept spelling it "bas." It was probably because I kept going, "Ba, Ba, Ba" for the letter "B" and then "Uh, Uh Uh" for "U." No matter how I tried it kept coming off like it should be spelled "Bas." So, I'm sure I'll get better at it. Don't even get me started on the word, "avenue."
Overall, it was a good experience. Uplifting. Enlightening. Encouraging. Beautiful. I felt that I wasn't doing it out of pity, out of my class requirement, but because I sincerely wanted to help, to serve, someone who wanted it.
I'm sure I'll post more on this later. The stories will surely come up, not that I'm expecting anything.
September 28, 2010
September 27, 2010
Monday | Taco Night
Today is Monday. First day of the week. The first day of the uphill climb. So to lighten the tension, and makes things not so hard(Office quote), I'm doing a week of posts. So feel free to not study and read this post for like, three minutes.
Read it twice if you want too.
My life is full of consistency. I like consistency. I like order. My favorite consistent schedule was my freshman year at Baylor. Monday, Dr. Pepper Floats, Tuesday, Dr. Pepper Floats, Wednesday, Doughnut Day, Thursday, Chick-Fil-A day, and Friday, TGIF! My schedule this year is matching up to it, so let me share my schedule with you.
Taco night makes Monday not so bad. Acapulco, on Monday nights, does seventy-five cent tacos. This includes unlimited free chips and salsa. So what I have done, and I've only done this for two weeks, is get two tacos and make up the difference of my hunger with chips and salsa. So, by the end of the night, I spend two dollars, leaving a nice tip which is quite the deal considering eating at Bethel is about nine bucks.
The best part about taco night is the community aspect. The past two times I have gone I've met people, who, before the dinner commenced, were complete strangers to me. And here we are, completely bonded together with tacos and chips. I've learned about the new people I meet, and I've learned about myself. One, that I'm still no good with remembering names and two, I'm definitely a chicken guy. I've learned the feelings of a girl who is about to get braces, and who not to challenge in a speed taco eating contest.
This the beauty of the bondage of tacos, of restaurants, of table seating selection, and the satisfaction of spending two dollars. It brings strangers together, who I can now wave at in the hallway, and builds communities stronger.
And that, makes Mondays not too bad.
Read it twice if you want too.
My life is full of consistency. I like consistency. I like order. My favorite consistent schedule was my freshman year at Baylor. Monday, Dr. Pepper Floats, Tuesday, Dr. Pepper Floats, Wednesday, Doughnut Day, Thursday, Chick-Fil-A day, and Friday, TGIF! My schedule this year is matching up to it, so let me share my schedule with you.
Taco night makes Monday not so bad. Acapulco, on Monday nights, does seventy-five cent tacos. This includes unlimited free chips and salsa. So what I have done, and I've only done this for two weeks, is get two tacos and make up the difference of my hunger with chips and salsa. So, by the end of the night, I spend two dollars, leaving a nice tip which is quite the deal considering eating at Bethel is about nine bucks.
The best part about taco night is the community aspect. The past two times I have gone I've met people, who, before the dinner commenced, were complete strangers to me. And here we are, completely bonded together with tacos and chips. I've learned about the new people I meet, and I've learned about myself. One, that I'm still no good with remembering names and two, I'm definitely a chicken guy. I've learned the feelings of a girl who is about to get braces, and who not to challenge in a speed taco eating contest.
This the beauty of the bondage of tacos, of restaurants, of table seating selection, and the satisfaction of spending two dollars. It brings strangers together, who I can now wave at in the hallway, and builds communities stronger.
And that, makes Mondays not too bad.
August 07, 2010
Expectations
This is for closure.
I used to have a lot of expectations with things. You name it, I had certain expectations for it, and usually these expectations where high. When I combined these high expectations with my dreamer persona things never went as I expected. I've learned the lesson of expectations many times.
Looking back, I am realizing this awful pattern I would get into. I would have such high expectations that anything below it was a disappointment, and in result I would view most things as a failure. My abilities in sports, in schools, and with girls. Girls were always the hardest lesson to learn. I never got out of this pattern of disappointing myself.
My overly-exaggerated-dreams-turned-into-high-expectations eventually took an emotional toll.
My dreams were very Hollywood. You know, the kind were a guy says stupid stuff but girls still throw themselves at them. I would imagine myself always in the spotlight, usually in slow-motion. My dreams-turned-expectations would always be at the climax, when you learn most about the character and who they really are. I expected to be everyone's hero. The humble, fairly good-looking, kind, generous man who would sweep in, save the day, get the girl, and still be home in time for dinner. ( That last part is a cliche', or at least I think so )
Looking back at what I just wrote I can honestly say that is who I was. Maybe not in public, but definitely the naked-inside-me. Brutally, and painfully honest with myself. How selfish of me. How prideful, arrogant, and boastful. I wonder if everyones dreams are like that? I mean, would it be weird if I wasn't in the spotlight of my own dream? Maybe I'm losing focus because I am talking/blogging about how I would turn my dreams into expectations.
Good thing my dreams never came true. ( although I have had moments of déjà vu )
Now comes the turning point of my dreams-turned-expectations pattern.
There was a girl. I really was starting to like her and I want to say that she was starting to like me. You know, that point where you think both of you are on the same page but you're both waiting for the other person to make a move, or say something about it.
I was at that point.
It all happened so fast though. I felt like I really didn't know that much about this girl, because I only really started getting to know her a couple weeks before. Either way, we hung out a couple of times, doing whatever we felt like. There was always a tension when we were sitting by each other, like a slow chess game waiting for someone to make a move. Her hand would sit on her leg, my hand would sit on my leg. Like we were holding hands that were two feet apart. It was almost torture because I knew I had to do something but just couldn't pull the trigger.
I'm very timid when it comes to doing something risky, or rather, something that could end up being emotionally destructive and awkward.
So on our "date," which I didn't specify as a date but rather an event or hanging out, you know, safe words that don't specify a "date" but could be interpreted like that. Anyways, on this last thing I had such high, imaginative, dreamy expectations that I basically set myself up for failure, which, in my opinion is what happened, even though she said she had a good time.
We watched a movie, and did the same "hand that are two feet apart holding" and that's not even the worst part. Right when I was seriously about to go in for the real hand hold there was the same exact scene in the movie. It was a scene of a guy and girl at a movie theater where the guy wanted to hold hands but she was giving him the cold shoulder.
And that was the end of me seriously thinking about going for the hand hold. I literally rolled my eyes. I wanted to stand up and scream at the screen that they were killing my self-esteem.
I would go on with more things that I should have done but my cowardly timid self couldn't match up to my dreamer self. And because my expectations were so high and because I didn't come close to those expectations I became disappointed.
The worst part was I didn't even open her door when I dropped her off. I just sat in the car, buckled up, told her goodnight and that I had a good time. I did, by the way, have a good time, I was just disappointed in myself that expectations were not reached.
That was the last time we actually hung out. I just never planned anything after that. As to why I didn't plan anything after that. I just don't know. I just didn't know what to do.
Eventually, over time, I realized my long pattern of having too high of expectations and the damage it does to me. So, you can say I learned my lesson. I still have to remind myself on occasion of having high expectations.
My best example of this lesson learned is my mission trip to New Orleans. When asked what I expected to get out of the trip I said, "I don't expect anything. I'm just going to go down there and see what happens." The trip was awesome. I would say it went above and beyond my expectations but I didn't have any expectations so I can't say it.
This is something that has been on my heart recently and keeps me up late at night. This is my lesson learned. This is my closure, for now.
I still can't decide whether having no expectations is good or bad, or even if it is possible. I can't decide if it is better to have expectations, with moderation, or no expectations at all.
I used to have a lot of expectations with things. You name it, I had certain expectations for it, and usually these expectations where high. When I combined these high expectations with my dreamer persona things never went as I expected. I've learned the lesson of expectations many times.
Looking back, I am realizing this awful pattern I would get into. I would have such high expectations that anything below it was a disappointment, and in result I would view most things as a failure. My abilities in sports, in schools, and with girls. Girls were always the hardest lesson to learn. I never got out of this pattern of disappointing myself.
My overly-exaggerated-dreams-turned-into-high-expectations eventually took an emotional toll.
My dreams were very Hollywood. You know, the kind were a guy says stupid stuff but girls still throw themselves at them. I would imagine myself always in the spotlight, usually in slow-motion. My dreams-turned-expectations would always be at the climax, when you learn most about the character and who they really are. I expected to be everyone's hero. The humble, fairly good-looking, kind, generous man who would sweep in, save the day, get the girl, and still be home in time for dinner. ( That last part is a cliche', or at least I think so )
Looking back at what I just wrote I can honestly say that is who I was. Maybe not in public, but definitely the naked-inside-me. Brutally, and painfully honest with myself. How selfish of me. How prideful, arrogant, and boastful. I wonder if everyones dreams are like that? I mean, would it be weird if I wasn't in the spotlight of my own dream? Maybe I'm losing focus because I am talking/blogging about how I would turn my dreams into expectations.
Good thing my dreams never came true. ( although I have had moments of déjà vu )
Now comes the turning point of my dreams-turned-expectations pattern.
There was a girl. I really was starting to like her and I want to say that she was starting to like me. You know, that point where you think both of you are on the same page but you're both waiting for the other person to make a move, or say something about it.
I was at that point.
It all happened so fast though. I felt like I really didn't know that much about this girl, because I only really started getting to know her a couple weeks before. Either way, we hung out a couple of times, doing whatever we felt like. There was always a tension when we were sitting by each other, like a slow chess game waiting for someone to make a move. Her hand would sit on her leg, my hand would sit on my leg. Like we were holding hands that were two feet apart. It was almost torture because I knew I had to do something but just couldn't pull the trigger.
I'm very timid when it comes to doing something risky, or rather, something that could end up being emotionally destructive and awkward.
So on our "date," which I didn't specify as a date but rather an event or hanging out, you know, safe words that don't specify a "date" but could be interpreted like that. Anyways, on this last thing I had such high, imaginative, dreamy expectations that I basically set myself up for failure, which, in my opinion is what happened, even though she said she had a good time.
We watched a movie, and did the same "hand that are two feet apart holding" and that's not even the worst part. Right when I was seriously about to go in for the real hand hold there was the same exact scene in the movie. It was a scene of a guy and girl at a movie theater where the guy wanted to hold hands but she was giving him the cold shoulder.
And that was the end of me seriously thinking about going for the hand hold. I literally rolled my eyes. I wanted to stand up and scream at the screen that they were killing my self-esteem.
I would go on with more things that I should have done but my cowardly timid self couldn't match up to my dreamer self. And because my expectations were so high and because I didn't come close to those expectations I became disappointed.
The worst part was I didn't even open her door when I dropped her off. I just sat in the car, buckled up, told her goodnight and that I had a good time. I did, by the way, have a good time, I was just disappointed in myself that expectations were not reached.
That was the last time we actually hung out. I just never planned anything after that. As to why I didn't plan anything after that. I just don't know. I just didn't know what to do.
Eventually, over time, I realized my long pattern of having too high of expectations and the damage it does to me. So, you can say I learned my lesson. I still have to remind myself on occasion of having high expectations.
My best example of this lesson learned is my mission trip to New Orleans. When asked what I expected to get out of the trip I said, "I don't expect anything. I'm just going to go down there and see what happens." The trip was awesome. I would say it went above and beyond my expectations but I didn't have any expectations so I can't say it.
This is something that has been on my heart recently and keeps me up late at night. This is my lesson learned. This is my closure, for now.
I still can't decide whether having no expectations is good or bad, or even if it is possible. I can't decide if it is better to have expectations, with moderation, or no expectations at all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)