Monthly Archives: August 2018

Embracing Options

I’ve been home from Chicago for about two weeks now, trying to organize my life post-internship and preparing for stepping back into my role as a student after two long months of playing a professional adult role. Its an interesting regression, as I think I was finally getting the hang of adulthood and now I can choose to let go of that persona for another year before the permanence of adulthood kicks in. Although I’ve found some aspects of adulting enjoyable, I’m relieved that I still have some time before I have to adult to that extent again.

The beauty of the CAPS fellowship is exactly that. You get a taste of a career path or field and how you need to function within that field, but nothing is permanent. At the end of the summer, you get to say your goodbyes and step away from that experience, and have time to evaluate it all. What you liked, what you didn’t like, if it’s the path you want to pursue. In such a pivotal time in one’s life, it’s a great resource for helping to decide what steps to take next.

I knew coming into this summer that I might not end it with clarity about what I want to do. It might provide me instead with some clarity about what I don’t want to do, or help me to grow or shorten my list of potential career options. While this is a frustrating concept for someone who is surrounded by people in their life who graduated from college and immediately found that fit for them, whether that be nursing, engineering, or any other number of professions that has a more linear path, it is something that we liberal arts majors are just going to have to live with.

My education at Valpo, through Christ College, leadership positions, and studying sociology and political science, has equipped me with a wide and unique set of skills. That being said, these skills are applicable to a multitude of fields and careers. I have a lot of options post graduation, and I’ve felt the weight of that since very early on in my college career. It often feels like an impossible task to decide on one career or path. And now I realize that I don’t have to.

One of the things I’ve tried to make a priority while working at Concordia Place is to ask my coworkers their “story”. I have been collecting the stories of how they ended up working at this nonprofit in Chicago, and have learned that the answer is exactly what I suspected (and kind of feared) to be true: trial and error. They all come from different schools around the country, whether it be Tennessee, Colorado, Illinois, New York, etc. And they all have worked in several different fields, and different positions within those fields. They learned what their strengths were as they progressed through each position, and some of them are still trying to figure that out now, at Concordia Place. Some went immediately to graduate school after college, some waited a few years after working a few different types of jobs so that they could be more sure of what they want to go into even more debt studying.

As a “planner”, it can be disheartening to hear to that I can’t fully plan out my future in a linear way. I know that it should excite me that there are endless possibilities, but it’s not the easiest idea to get used to. No one prepares you for that, especially in a society that expects you to have an idea of what you want to do with your life when you graduate high school at a mere 18 years old.

One beautiful Friday morning, I went to a nonprofit panel geared towards interns. I plugged the address my boss gave me into Google Maps and started walking. I was pretty surprised when I ended up in front of the Sears/Willis Tower (I’ve gotten a lot of crap for calling it either, so pick your poison). I got to listen to career advice while looking out at Lake Michigan, and it was an experience that will stick out when I think back on this summer. The most important piece of advice was that you can’t plan out your whole career path now, and you shouldn’t even try. Hindsight is 20/20, and only when you’re looking back does your career path make any sense, according to the knowledgeable and highly qualified panelists. Seeing how far the panelists had come in their careers, despite their paths being completely different than what they had anticipated at my age, is a comfort. I’m working on learning to let go of my obsession with planning and instead, let life do its thing.

 

Concordia Day on Milwaukee, which we finally cut the ribbon and opened on August 1st!

In Truth and Love

On one of my first commutes to work I had left my headphones at my apartment. This is a big deal to someone riding the CTA, because headphones provide a welcomed distraction to the chaos of life in the city. This train ride felt really long and I tried to ignore the awkwardness I was feeling. As I stood to exit the train, an older man also stood so we made eye contact and shared a small grin. We stepped off, and as we hit the platform he started chatting to me about his day. We walked for about five minutes together before our routes took a shift as I went to walk into work and he was to continue down the sidewalk. Before we parted ways, he asked for my name and we shook hands as we shared a more genuine, friend-like smile.

I have reflected on this moment a lot during my summer. Perhaps the hardest part about the city to me is that human interactions are reserved for those at work or our known friends… rarely are conversations with strangers welcomed or encouraged. So then I started to think about why this is. Is it because people are somehow more dangerous in the city? Is it the fear that someone will ask something from us and it’ll feel awkward to deny? And I honestly couldn’t come up with an answer that made me feel content. I realize that there are major issues in the city that create for a dangerous environment and that crime rates are high. I realize that being a woman, I should be more mindful of the places I travel and what I do, in order to be safe. But these things still didn’t explain why humans couldn’t just love each other enough to engage in a simple conversation on the train. So the first step I took to experiment with this debate was to promise to never again wear headphones in a public place. With this one decision came many more interactions with strangers. I was asked multiple times for spare change, was complimented on my hair, and most often of all was asked, “Hey, how you doin?” in a non-Joey-from-Friends way but more of a thank-you-for-acknowledging-my-presence way. How crazy it was, that my removing my headphones, I automatically became a conscious member of society instead of a life-avoider. This of course made me start acting differently. I envisioned the people asking me for spare change as a version of myself in very different circumstances. Because of this empathy, I could no longer ignore them and make up excuses about why I couldn’t treat them as a member of society, so instead I would ask to pet their dog and talk to them about the pet. Or if they didn’t have a pet, I would just ask them how their day was going or have another form of conversation to initiate. Sometimes I had money and other times I didn’t, but in any case, I would never walk by without saying something.

I think this is what the CAPS Fellows Program meant to me. It’s exhausting to constantly be focused on MY purpose and MY career and MY achievements, especially when I don’t know what the heck my calling is. But what I do know, is that no matter what environment I am in or what day I am having, I need to be a conscious, loving member of society. I know that my purpose is to approach any situation in truth and in love. As I practice these two things more and more, I believe my calling will become more and more evident, and I can bless others while feeling content about my place in this world. And to those who are having trouble finding their calling also, I just wanna say… it starts with taking out our headphones.

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

I’m incredibly grateful to Venn Strategies and all I learned there this summer!

Sitting at my desk on my last day at Venn

Finishing up my time as a CAPS Fellow has been a blur. I finished up my last day, packed up my apartment, and caught a 7am flight to Boston to meet my family. Now I’m back home in Wisconsin for a lengthy six days before blasting off to study abroad in Costa Rica for the semester. All that being said, time to reflect has been scarce. I’m still coming to terms with everything I learned throughout my CAPS experience but I’ve definitely seen myself grow as a person, both personally and in my career aspirations.

When I started at Venn, I knew I felt like I was in way over my head. I didn’t have a firm grip on what I was doing and at times I was drowning trying to learn everything at once. I felt incredibly unprepared about the work I was doing and thought everyone around me had it all together. After all, I was the intern and this was their actual job. I was turning in memos on topics I knew nothing about (ever heard of the Railway Securities Alliance? Neither had I until I started at Venn). I felt like a fraud—like at any moment my boss would come over and ask me what I was doing there. I adopted a sort of “fake it ‘til you make it’ attitude and it actually worked. After a few weeks I started to understand the rhythm of the company and started working on some projects I really enjoyed. I even made a work friend—something I thought only existed on sitcoms (Shout out to Nina—I miss our lunch break Sephora runs ☺). As I got more comfortable with my position my work also improved. I was able to step out of my comfort zone by participating in client meetings and offering feedback. My confidence grew and I felt more and more comfortable with the work I was doing and proud of the projects I finished.
Over the course of the summer I also learned a lot about the ins and outs of lobbying—it’s really not what it looks like on Scandal. It is more focused on building relationships and having ongoing conversations, finding people in government and showing them why they should care about the issue you are bringing forth. The work moves both extremely slow and extremely quickly. The bureaucracy of government means it can take years to get bills passed but client demands sometimes mean working around the clock to get results. Overall, lobbying is about making a difference. It’s about changing current policies to make them better for constituents and interest groups. I definitely came into the summer a little jaded about what the work would look like. Instead, I met clients passionate about policies that had a huge impact on themselves, their businesses, and their customers. The job of a lobbyist—or anyone working in policy really—is to make sure that people can have their voices heard.

That isn’t to say it all became easy—it isn’t. I didn’t always agree with the policies clients wanted change and I didn’t always agree with the means used to achieve it. When I started to get frustrated, I did my best to take a step back and focus on the larger vision of what I was doing. I was helping support a group that wanted to make their ideas and goals known to their elected officials. And that, I think, is pretty fulfilling.

Defining Quality

What is quality?  This is a question that Ingenuity seeks to answers in terms of arts education.  However, this is a question I sought to answer in terms of an internship experience.  Being a college student, we are told that an intern experience is a quality one because we need to build our resumes.  So often, students spend their summers making copies and getting coffee for the sake of building their resume. But is this truly a quality internship?  By the end of the summer, students only know how to use the printer, order coffee, and, if they were lucky, sit in on a couple of meetings to take notes.  My definition of a quality internship is one where I can grow professionally by doing meaningful work. Luckily for me, Ingenuity feels the same way.

The advantage of working at a nonprofit organization is being surrounded by people who are passionate about their mission.  I can always feel the passion for quality arts education for all CPS students in each team member at Ingenuity from the moment I started working here. When I was tasked with the Partner Starter Institute, I was excited to have a project that was integral to the programming of the Partnerships and Professional Learning team.  Being in charge of the Partner Starter gave me the opportunity to exercise my networking, facilitation, and event planning skills. I was given the freedom to design the content of the entire day from the venue, agenda, and even the catering.

  
 Ingenuity puts a lot of faith into their interns.  We are treated as equal members of the team. We are invited to staff meetings where our input is encouraged and valued.  As a member of the Partnerships and Professional Learning team, I have the opportunity to help run professional development events and attend a meeting to foster arts partnerships.  My time at Ingenuity has taught me the importance of partnership and collaboration. No person is an island and we need to work with others if we want to accomplish anything.

Each day was a different adventure working at Ingenuity.  This experience allowed me to think about what kind of work environment I should look for when seeking future employment.  The work culture at Ingenuity is very inviting. Each staff member seeks feedback from others to ensure that their work is being done efficiently.  It is inspiring that each team member models that it is encouraged to work together on projects.

   
 If you asked me what a quality internship is, I would tell you Ingenuity without hesitation.  Ingenuity provided me the opportunity to grow professionally by tasking me with the Partner Starter Institute, assisting with professional development events, and fostering arts partnerships.  I know that every task I was given at Ingenuity served a purpose that aligns with their mission of ensuring all CPS students have access to arts education. I will miss working with an organization that is passionate about the work they do and take the time to nurture a student’s professional development.

             

Jenga Blocks and the Metaphor of Relationships:

It’s difficult to believe that I am coming to the end of my time at Erie House. In the few weeks I have been here, I have learned a multitude of skills, listened to new perspectives on life, and saw the service sector function through a different organization. Each day was another day to learn, to grow, to challenge myself. Yet, some days brought lessons that were seemingly more profound than others and introduced me to a new way of viewing relationship-building, and life in general.

Since ninety-eight percent of my work has been with elementary-age or middle-school age kids, I’ve definitely become more apt at playing sports as well as a variety of board games that I had either not touched since my own childhood or have never seen in general. However, Jenga was one of the games that I was quite familiar with (as there was the “giant version” Jenga in the game room at Valpo). One night at one of the youth programming events, we played Jenga—but with a twist.

In this game, Solomon, the man in charge of the youth programming (youth being anyone from 7th-10th grade) at Erie House, gave us eight blocks each. With those eight blocks, we were supposed to build whatever we wanted. Not understanding the ulterior motive (there always is one—or so I believed), I began constructing a tower that would be quite stable if a block were removed (I tried to anticipate what he could possibly be doing and figured it would be safe to go with a short and stable tower). But what came next surprised me. He had his own eight blocks but he didn’t build anything. Instead, he asked me if he could put a block on my tower. I looked suspiciously at him but added a ninth piece to my already amazing-eight-piece tower. But I wasn’t the only one. He went around to each youth and asked to put a block on their tower. Some decided to take it, others did not.

At the end, we had to share why we built the tower the way we did. Some youth explained that they wanted to build the tallest tower, and so they had paired up with one of the staff members or each other to create a taller tower. Others made shapes, like a duck, and said they did it for fun. It was neat to see the level of creativity and the amusing replies they gave. But then Solomon then asked if any of us had any idea what the point of the game was. We all went around and shared our thoughts. Some people believed it was about teamwork since many of them decided to put their blocks together to make something bigger, others believed it to be about individual creativity.

Solomon stood up and pointed at each tower and asked if we could identify which blocks were ours if we had joined our blocks together. Some said yes. Others no. Then it became clearer as he explained.

“This whole exercise was about creating a narrative. We all have our own stories, but sometimes we don’t know what story we want to tell, so we hop on someone else’s and create a narrative that way.

Do you remember that I asked each one of you if I could add a block to your tower? Some of you said ‘yes’, and others of you didn’t. That was me asking to be a part of your story, of your narrative. It’s okay if you said no. Sometimes you see something you really want to be a part of and sometimes you’ll get turned away. But it’s okay, because there might be openings other places to insert yourself and be a part of that story. With each tower, you created a story, a narrative—by yourself or with others. But in the end, this is about understanding how we all relate to each other, and the ability to accept or decline people to be a part of our story and making it our own.”

It was amazing how something so simple like Jenga could become so profound. This extends past just talking about youth programming. It’s about life. We are all building Jenga block towers, so precariously stacked and with only so many pieces, but we don’t always have to build it alone. We can if we want to and that’s acceptable. We can also allow others to help us create what is our own story and account of our lives, actions, and character.

This metaphor isn’t just for the youth at Erie House, but for each person who is telling his/her/their story in life. As I move forward, soon to end my time at Erie House, I’ll know that my metaphorical Jenga tower is even broader because of all the blocks I allowed to be added to my narrative. I hope that I was also able to take some of my Jenga blocks and add them to the youth and staff I worked with in the short time I was there. However, as I continue on to Spain where I’ll be teaching next year, I hope to use this metaphor, this story and its meaning, to better form relationships and deeply reflect and think about what it means to be an individual and collective in creating personal stories.

 

“Every Voice Matters”

Satu, dua, tiga…

 

This past Friday was our final day of Refugee Youth Summer Program here at Heartland Alliance- a day filled with many emotions, from exuberant pride at the growth and confidence of our kids, to humbling gratitude at the opportunity to work with them each day, and finally the acute sadness that accompanies difficult goodbyes.

 

For the last six weeks, I’ve waited in front of the Howard Jewel-Osco in Rogers Park for our youth to come out to summer program, based this year around the theme “Every Voice Matters”  (“camp” is not used by Heartland due to its potentially retraumatizing connotations). Kids between 5-15 years old from countries such as Syria, Eritrea, Burma, and Central African Republic- many of whom are relatively recent arrivals to the United States- are invited to summer program as an opportunity to build relationships, promote familiarization with their greater Chicago community, assist with English language acquisition, and provide a trauma-informed space to process experiences in a safe and supportive environment.  Each day, myself and fellow Heartland staff hop on public transit with our “Howard Crew” kids to go meet up with the rest of our 40+ person summer program group- rotating daily between engaging in planned activities, heading to the beach, facilitating support groups, playing soccer with other refugee resettlement agencies, and participating in field trips in the Chicago area.

Baking cookies in pizza box solar ovens for “science day,” which I had the opportunity to coordinate and lead. Our word of the day was “experiment;” we also made DIY lava lamps and slime!

 

Throughout the summer, I often found myself counting to three (as done in Malay at the beginning of this post).  Sometimes this was done silently to myself, accompanied by a deep breath on a jam-packed rush hour bus with 20+ tired out children in tow who “are sitting down, we promise!” (as they stand in the middle of the bus aisle); during others, it was yelled with enthusiasm when leading a group game of four corners. I‘ve used it to de-escalate conflict, navigate passionate outbursts of emotion, and learn new languages from our participants. As I prepare to head to Malaysia come January, I’ve been especially privileged to be able to start learning Malay from some of our Rohingya girls, and turned these numbers into a game with one participant- for every new number or phrase she taught me in Malay, I would teach her one in English. Whenever something happened that made her sad, I’d start counting as fast I could in Malay (always messing up), which usually provoked a laugh or smile even on difficult days.   

 

It’s fairly intimidating to show up to work everyday knowing that you’re engaging with kids who are braver, kinder, and more intelligent than you’ll probably ever be. The youth that I’ve had the privilege of growing close with this summer are quite literally some of the strongest kids in the entire world- coming from backgrounds of persecution and oppression only to enter a country that continues to place their identities under attack. A country where they are given next to nothing (and are actually forced to undertake debt just to arrive here- refugee families take out loans to cover their own airfare) but must integrate into a society that overall rejects their unique cultures, languages, and religious backgrounds as “unamerican” and further marginalizes based on skin color. A country who only provides around $1000 per family member to start an entirely new life (think about how this compares to cost of living in the city of Chicago) with an administration that is actively cutting funding for needed social services, ironically requiring many families to move to areas of heightened violence; oftentimes the very thing they seek to escape. Our participants come into a nation that overall does not value the skills and educational backgrounds of the refugees who enter it and incorrectly equates intelligence with english language proficiency, prompting refugees to work multiple low paying jobs at once to make ends meet, all while stigmatizing these individuals as a “threat” (even though it takes years and countless screenings to legally obtain refugee status) and victim-blaming these same individuals for “burdening” one of the wealthiest nations in the world (even though refugees have no personal say in where they are resettled and actually pay more money back in taxes than they will ever receive from the federal government).

 

Our phenomenal Youth and Family Services team, who are constantly lifting one another up with their wisdom, support, and of course food

And yet, despite all this and so much more, our kids arrive each day with the ability to laugh genuinely, advocate for one another, care deeply for those around them, and ask critical questions of the world in which they live. It’s quite frankly a resilience unlike any other, and I look up to each of them immensely.  Given all that I’ve learned from these individuals, I was kidding myself when I thought that I could do tearless goodbyes. And when it was time to leave (and the presumed adult teacher version of Miss Emily was trying hard, but unsuccessfully, not to lose it), it was my turn to hear a “satu, dua, tiga…” coming from my ten-year-old friend.

Unexpected Home

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the book The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. This has been one of my favorite books since I first read it when I was 13. The novel follows protagonist Taylor, who, realizing that she needs to escape her small hometown in rural Kentucky, buys a VW Bug and vows to drive until it breaks down. She ends up in Tucson, Arizona, and through a strange series of events finds herself caring for a three-year-old girl who she calls Turtle. There are a lot of reasons this book could be on my mind lately – besides the Southwestern aesthetic that characterizes both Tucson and Austin (my home for the summer), it touches on perennial themes like immigration rights, environmental responsibility, and coming of age. But most of all, it is a book about building a new home in a foreign place.

Taylor draws together eccentric characters: anxiety-prone fellow single mom Lou Ann and her son Dwayne Ray, undocumented Guatemalan immigrants Estevan and Esperanza, used tire store/refugee sanctuary owner and activist Mattie, and grumbling neighbors Virgie and Edna, to name a few. Little by little, Taylor builds herself a home and a family in the “foreign” land that is the southwest, and eventually feels that she belongs there more than she ever did in Pittman County, Kentucky.

I don’t necessarily identify with Taylor’s need to escape her hometown. The opposite, actually: I am a homebody at heart. There is nowhere in the world I like more than the old red armchair in my living room at home, curled up with a book and a cup of coffee, listening to my family rustling through the house around me. But in the past few years I’ve found myself drawn farther and farther away from home, not pushed by a desire to leave but pulled towards the unknown. I’ve spent my recent months first studying in Spain, then traveling to Uganda with Water to Thrive and living in Austin as a CAPS fellow. By the time I move back in at Valpo for my senior year, I will have been home for a grand total of 8 days in the past 8 months. And though I miss my home, my family, my friends, and that red armchair, I’ve been learning to take a page out of Taylor’s book and build a new home through my community here.

Exploring Austin with Grace!

As happens when you move somewhere new, distant networks have become friends. In addition to Grace, my wonderful fellow CAPS intern, I’ve found strange connections that have slowly built this city into a home: like friends of friends who are visiting Austin for the weekend, old acquaintances I was vaguely friends with in high school who have since moved to Austin, or my CAPS assigned alumni mentor, who had me over to her house for dinner. I spent the evening talking with her and her husband, who met in the Peace Corps and encouraged me to pursue this dream, and, after playing outside with her three-year-old son, sent me home with raspberry bars and an open invitation to stay with them any time I find myself back in Austin.

Last weekend, I drove down to San Antonio to visit Elanore, a donor who was on my Water to Thrive trip to Uganda. She is a 65-year-old former Navy Commander. On paper, we have very little in common. But we quickly bonded in Uganda, sharing snacks and motion sickness medicine and stories on long, bumpy van rides, and so I spent the weekend staying with her and her husband. We spent one day shopping and going to museums and eating tacos on the San Antonio Riverwalk. People kept asking us if we were related, assuming she was my mother or grandmother, to which one of us would reply, “No – we’re friends.”

Visiting Elanore in San Antonio.

My community has turned this city into a home, made up of eccentric and unexpected characters. As my time here in Austin ends, I find myself reflecting on not just the exciting travel and meaningful work I have been lucky enough to be a part of, but also the community and home I’ve built in each new place I go.

Blog Inception

My internship with the Harrison Center has held countless surprises, lessons, and memories. Looking back on all of it (the good and the not-so-good), I wouldn’t change how any of it played out– mostly because everything I’ve learned has been one more puzzle piece I can add to my unknown, post-graduation future. One of my most unexpected epiphanies didn’t make itself known until my last couple of weeks in Indy but it greatly affected that span of time.

I didn’t anticipate becoming apathetic to writing– blog writing that is. I know it’s a bit meta and ironic with this being a blog post but between the Harrison Center and the freelance writing I do for an addiction recovery center, this reliable use of my Creative Writing degree has grown less appetizing. Upon reflection, I think what’s deflated my love for blog-writing-as-a-career, has been the way it has zapped my energy and interest in independently writing creatively; the original intent behind my business and sales writing was to give me enough financial stability to be able to pursue my personal writing endeavors.

A non-blog-writing project I initiated this summer!

I know that there are many other financially-plausible options that my Creative Writing degree could open up for me (e.g., editing and proofreading, layout and design, ghostwriting, graduate school, etc.) but I’d always kind of banked on freelance content and sales writing since I’ve already gotten my foot or at least a few toes into that door.

From a big picture perspective, I know that I would end up feeling lethargic about any task that took up 40+ hours of my week or really anything mentally-demanding by the end of the summer– but I’d be lying if I said this apathy hasn’t been slightly alarming. Granted, I know I have a tendency to get too caught up in the spiraling tale of “what ifs” but as I explained in my previous CAPS blog post, it is okay because that’s just a part of my process.

At my first meeting with my amazing mentor, Lindsay Bledsoe, she imparted upon me some advice that she herself had recently received and benefited from. In regards to pursuing a creative career, she said that “sometimes you have to make art and sometimes you have to make money.” While this was initially a bit of a buzzkill to my barely 3-weeks of interning honeymoon phase, it’s stuck with me and resurfaced as relevant many times throughout this summer.

I had already had some experience with this hard lesson, as I struggled the past school year to release from my freelance writing the high expectations I put on all of my personal and academic endeavors. But I had underestimated how much more difficult it would be to establish a routine and mindset that would allow me to evenly ration out my writing energy. I know that as someone looking to make a career out of my creativity, it will be an ongoing search to find that  balance between upholding my artistic standards, self-fulfillment, and making money.

These amazing friends have kept me inspired and sane this summer!

  

Lessons from “Naptown”

This blog post comes to you in two parts. Firstly, one of the most awkward friendship-based situations, in my opinion, is listening to friends talk about inside jokes without being in on it. It’s fun for a couple seconds, of course, because there’s excitement and laughter, but then again, there’s accidental exclusion. So to prevent that possible feeling, I would love to share some of the jokes and lessons from this summer.

 

Me and Katy, a previous CAPS Fellow who now works at ArtMix, welcoming guests to the Art and Home Tour.

 

1. The Byrd Family

Though the Indy CAPS Fellows grew closer day by day through dinner time, there was some general, low-key disconnect due to everyone knowing one another to varying degrees. One day, one Fellow showed up late to dinner and the light-hearted dramatics that ensued afterward centered around a husband showing up late to a wife’s home cooking (stereotypical scenario definitely noted). From this moment, each CAPS Fellow took a role in the family, namely a father, mother, fraternity son, hipster daughter, and an outspoken aunt. Sure, we were acting and having fun, but thinking more about it, I think friendship includes things like how we could easily adapt, make light of a mistake, and use our imagination. At the end of the day, friendship should be a relief and a joy, and these qualities helped make it that.

 

2. Cowboy and Roller Derby Names

Have you ever thought of what your cowboy or roller derby name would be? Well, my cowboy “God-given name” is Wilhelmina “Willie” Buford (named after an Ugly Betty character and a Forrest Gump character). Again, this is another silly, imaginative game of sorts, but these names and other answers stemmed from out-of-the-box questions that sparked dialogue… and a good time. Questions, whether they’re serious or not, are much better at growing friendship than back-and-forth statements. While this should be a given, questions really helped us bond and reflect more about ourselves and other topics.

 

3. Hive Mind

Over the course of the summer, as my suitemates and I spent more time together, we noticed a trend where we would say things in unison (“…we finish each other’s sandwiches”, “that’s what I was gonna say”). Let me just say that this is one, a super awesome phenomenon, but also two, a really neat indicator of closeness. It wasn’t that we were getting predictable, but more so that we simply spent enough time together to “get” one another. Time, I’ve found, is a precious thing. Usually, I think about the time around New Years, the end of the semester, my birthday, and even a death. But time can also be seen as a gift, as a glue, and not just an hourglass. Maybe viewing it as such could change a mindset.

Perry’s drawing of our apartment cohort!

 

4. Dungeons and Death

If I was asked before this summer if I wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons, I probably would have said no, not because I was unaware of the game, but because of the stereotypical associated audience. After watching The Big Bang Theory and peering to see fellow Valpo students engage in a story, I didn’t feel like it would be the game for me. But after a Fellow talked about it and explained the game, I became interested and together, we roped other Fellows (and each of our friends… and my boyfriend) into the game. Because of D&D, I learned that opening my mind and being receptive to a friend’s interest can be fruitful for all parties: I gained a new interest and experience while they felt appreciated.

 

5. The Grate

One day, the Indy gang was walking around and decided to come inside due to an approaching storm. But because there wasn’t any rain yet, we decided to keep walking. Nearly one minute after this group decision, a Fellow heard ducks crying out from somewhere. We all searched for the ducks until we found a family of ducks in a sewer grate. Working together, one of us went in the grate, three of us chased the confused ducklings, and the other one of us guided the ducklings back to the mother. Many things this summer required teamwork, such as moving one another into the apartments, but this one was for sure the cutest and most anxiety-inducing moment. Teamwork, in short, makes the dream work. On a less cheesy note, working together really does produce results, especially when everyone’s on the same page. And yes, we did save the ducks!

 

  

Some super cool art featured at Buckingham Companies’ Art and Home Tour.

 

Second, it has been a busy time since the beginning of July. ArtMix has held two main events, an Art and Home Tour (2 of 3), which is a set of events that bring guests into residencies that collect art, and the Arts for All Fest, a celebration of our students and the ArtMix community. Both went swimmingly thanks to behind-the-scenes work, volunteers, and the amazing attendees. Though these events are very different in nature, they both create a community for ArtMix and continues the ArtMix vision. I am grateful to have surrounded myself in such a positive environment, a philanthropic, kind, and generous environment that is inevitable at such an organization. Though my job was tedious and sometimes tough, it was all the more worth it to help ArtMix. I know it is cheesy to say that everything happens for a reason, which is one of my frequent sayings, but I firmly believe that this summer has helped me bridge junior to senior year and think more deeply about vocation.

 

The ArtMix family featuring administrative staff, two interns, and our volunteer of the year.

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Recognizing the Phase and Naming the Stage

Alright, it’s week eight in your internship. The end of summer is approaching, and you’re a couple weeks from finishing. What should you do now? You’ve asked the questions, given your input, and tried to be the best intern you could be, but what happens now?

I feel like there’s a shift that takes place over the course of an internship. I think you could consider the ‘shift’ like a series of stages. Stage one is what I like to call the “oh s**t” phase; you’re just figuring things out, and you’re not sure yet if you’ve got what it takes to handle it yet. And, from what I’ve learned, the only way to get to stage two (the “I get this, but not that” phase) is to be confident in your own ability to succeed.

In stage one, I was afraid of letting my supervisors down and letting Ingenuity down, because I thought I didn’t know enough to make meaningful contributions. Then I realized, no one knows everything. While I didn’t know, for example, what quality arts indicators are most equitable and student focused, I did understand how to think through the problems myself. Is requiring all schools to have their musical instruments in-tune equitable? Student-focused? My colleagues decided “no.” But I thought there was something there, so I gave my opinion (me, as a non-arts education expert). I said that while it’s not fair to require schools to make their instruments in-tune when they could be funding more student-oriented opportunities, it is an important to know whether or not students have access to quality tools that allow them to create effectively. While I haven’t been exposed to the entire conversation surrounding arts education in Chicago for the past several years, I was able to trust, draw upon, and offer my perspective. It got others in the room thinking differently about how they saw the problem. So in trusting myself, I moved to stage two which is where I am now.

Stage two is all about confidence, professionalism, and enthusiasm; you’ve got to have ‘em. This is because it’s easy to become the underdog… the millennial… the kid in the office. It’s important to explicitly show what you understand while professionally asking for clarity. My favorite line has become, “what I’m hearing from you is [this], am I understanding you correctly?” This allows you to show that you are engaged in what your supervisor is saying while also asking about what you don’t know. Being the kid means sometimes your supervisors and colleagues over-explain things (this is likely because it totally looked like you were in over your head on week one– and that’s okay). Just remember: exude confidence which equals trusting, drawing upon, and offering your perspective. Once you’ve mastered that, you move on to the final stage: the “what now?” stage.

This is what I’ll be entering as I step into week nine of my internship on Monday morning. What now? I feel comfortable doing the job I came here to do and sharing my opinions, so what’s next for my to accomplish other than more experience? Exactly. You should now, at the end of your internship, start asking yourself if you’re getting the experience out of this professional opportunity that you’d hoped. At the beginning of the summer, hopefully, you made a list of what you’d like to learn how to do or get better at. It’s time to check-in. Did you accomplish everything? My starter list was to get better at networking, get better at communicating, get better at public speaking, and understand how to use this experience to show my professional capability. I think I’ve gotten fractionally better at each, but now it’s the last lap and I’m running out of time to get it all done.

Enter, stage four.

Focus on your goals. You know what you need to do to finish your internship projects, and it’s time to bring your goals to a more forward place in your mind. Make a list of which experiences you think would help you check-off your goal list. For me, that’s reaching out to more folks at the big event next week, checking-in more regularly with my supervisor, helping to present our final instructional session, and identifying through-lines in the skills I learned and the next position I’d like to apply for. Wish me luck!

Cheers!

The Summit of the Summer

700 fellows. 48 sub Saharan African countries. 3 days. 1 incredible experience. To say that the past two weeks working at IREX has been an adventure, would be an understatement. On July 29, all of the 2018 Mandela Washington Fellows from 27 institutes across the country descended onto downtown Washington DC for the annual Mandela Washington Fellowship Summit to close their fellowship experience.

Keynote speaker, Masai Ujiri, speaking at the Summit

This summer, my internship working with the YALI (Young African Leader Initiative) team involved pouring over spreadsheets, looking through passports and tax back forms, and running errands all over the city. While I learned tons from my co workers, especially with technical skills in excel and salesforce, I eagerly awaited getting to meet our fellows in person. Last Sunday, all of the YALI team packed our bags and moved into the Omni Shoreham Hotel, where the Summit was to take place. The days were long and tiring starting at 7 am everyday and not ending until the late evening. After welcoming the fellows Sunday afternoon into the night, we started Monday with the opening plenary followed by keynote speaker, Masai Ujiri, President of the NBA team, the Toronto Raptors.  Masai is Nigerian and connected well with the fellows. He spoke of how the press often boast that he is the only African to ever reach the highest position in professional sports in North America. Masai saw this differently, he saw this as a place of improvement, because he should not be the only one. That theme kept on throughout the summit, that people under cut the value of Africa, and the importance of Pan Africanism and the potential for countries to work together.

Between ushering fellows through the maze of the old Omni hotel, I got to time keep and microphone run which allowed me to sit in on several sessions. The session that by far stuck out to me the most was the ignite talks. Select fellows were chosen to stand up in front of their peers and tell their stories. These fellows had overcome great struggles such as persecution from Albinism, being a refugee in a war torn country, becoming blind at a young age, and trying to raise a family in poverty. Here were people from all different countries that were only between the ages of 25 and 35 that had already lived through so much, but here they were in Washington DC, having the power to tell their stories.

After several other incredible sessions from a panel on empowering women to a congressional panel with Senator Chris Coons and other representatives, the final activity was the talent show, Wednesday night. This was my favorite part. Fellows dressed up in their traditional dress and preformed, ending in an all out dance party. It was a great way to end a jam packed three days.

Fellow YALI intern, Camille, and I in front of the #mymandelalegacy pledges

The theme for the Summit was “Living Mandela’s Legacy”, in honor of Nelson Mandela’s 100th birthday. We asked that everyone make a pledge on their personal Mandela Legacy. For me, my Mandela Legacy is to take all I have learned this summer through the CAPS program and to continue to work to invest in people at Valpo and as I hopefully continue to work in international development for many years to come. One of Nelson Mandela’s most famous quotes is “It always seems impossible, until it is done.” And while my internship is nearly done, there is still so much to do.