Written 1-13-17
As our trip comes to a close, I now understand what the students from a college in Northern California meant when they told us that we looked fresh and hopeful. After a week, we were tired, dirty, and willing to sleep on a rock. We have gone extremely hard for a week, getting almost no sleep. But don’t get me wrong, we still gasp when we see a rainbow so large you can see all the colors twice stretch across the entirety of the Monteverde valley. We still point and take pictures of the Gulf of Nicoya as it empties into the Pacific Ocean. We’re tired, but not apathetic. We may be worn out, but we aren’t lazy.
As physically demanding as the days have been, in my opinion, the mental stamina required may be even greater. The group has been great, the host family phenominal, and more supportive. Of the seven members of our group, three are very strong Spanish speakers. I described my own level as, “un, un, un poco”, simply because I didn’t know how to say “even less than a little bit”. I took two years of Spanish in high school, five years ago, but for me, that just means I knew “jugar” means “to play” and not “jaguar”. If given about a minute to process, I was able to get the general gist of a short, simple sentence. I could read a street sign at a mediocre level, but I was completely unable to carry a conversation. Nobody would consider it passable. In fact when ever anybody references my abilities, they refer to it as “much improved”, which says less about the ending level and more about the starting point. I learned to rely heavily on the members of the group that were stronger than I. I tried to learn as much as I could, but many times I was forced to react to the translation without the opportunity to slow the phrase in my head.
At the beginning of the week, it felt like a challenging puzzle. I had a lot of fun but was very unsuccessful. I was not afraid to fail because my friends were more than happy to help me out. But as the week wore on, I grew weary of not being able to ask if I could help set dinner, or what the hidden ingredient was in the food. (I really enjoyed the cooking, if you couldn’t tell).
This was my first time out of the country, and my first time being the one that didn’t know the majority language. I find myself being much more proficient today than at the beginning if the week, but I look forward to being able to speak my own language, or at least not having to worry about whether I will be understood. I would like to continue practicing my spanish, but learning it from english instead of out of necessity would be much less demanding.
I learned a true appreciation for the patient people who were willing to work with me without getting frustrated with me. It’s very hard to put yourself physically into the shoes of most minority groups you fin in the USA. I cannot change many things that make me who I am. However, I have a new ability to empathize with those struggling to learn English in America. Now that I put myself out of my comfort zone and into the shoes of those around me. I am now able to be of better assistance. When I see an international student struggle around campus, I will be able to be patient and help them feel welcomed to our school, ur country, and our culture. Bcause let’s be honest, if they can keep up with the difficult schoolwork in a language they are still learning, they deserve my respect. After all, when I was asked if I was hungry, I thought I was being asked if I was a man. I peed my pants, ran away, and asked for help. I learned “hambre” and “hombre” are very different words. All it took was me being confused, embarrassed, and, you guessed it, hungry.