Monthly Archives: August 2020

Uncertainty, Discernment, and Discovery by Lydia Knorp

As I reflect on my time at Heartland Alliance, many thoughts and emotions come to mind; the most prominent being gratitude. I came into this internship seeking clarity. Whether it be clarity regarding the path I want to pursue or a deeper understanding of what I do not enjoy, I was hoping to find meaning in this experience.  This feeling of gratitude that I mentioned is for the gift of clarity that Heartland Alliance has blessed me with. I came into my internship confident and still am certain that I have found my home in the field of Social Work. However, in a vast field, I had struggled to pinpoint my passions within the field.

Working with refugees at Heartland Alliance is something I thought I would enjoy, but I had no idea how much I would come to love it. There is something special about working with people from around the world. It is truly a gift to have the opportunity to learn about different cultures and traditions from places so far away. Each day that I interned, I had the opportunity to get to know many different individuals and learn about their experiences, stories, and culture… what a gift.

Here I am two months later grateful for the clarity that this experience has given me. I have discovered and confirmed the passion I have for working with a diverse group of individuals, listening and learning about their experiences, and walking alongside them as they strive to accomplish their goals. I look forward to seeing how this passion of mine unfolds as I take my next steps in both my academic and professional careers.

The CAPS fellowship has encouraged me to lean into my uncertainties. It has reminded me that the unknown aspects of life are not necessarily bad. Uncertainty can lead to discernment and discernment has led me to discover a passion and a purpose. The CAPS fellowship has helped me discover the young professional that I aspire to be.

Just the Intern by Emily Friedman

At my job, I’ve been doing a lot of sanitizing and temperature taking. Part of my uniform includes a smock, face shield, face mask, and rubber gloves. If we didn’t have these precautions, I would not have been able to work in-person at The Bridge Teen Center. COVID-19 has made us rethink how we host student programs. Prior to the pandemic, The Bridge offered drop-in hours for students and hosted signature events that could have accommodated hundreds of students. Now students must pre-register for events which have limited capacity. They are required to wear masks, wash their hands before entering the building, get their temperature taken, and answer a few questions about their health. In the program, students must sit six feet apart from each other and cannot share materials. At first, it was an adjustment. Not only did students have to learn a new routine, but they also had to navigate social situations under these conditions. It’s hard to hear people and see their facial expressions when others are wearing a mask, so it’s easy to minimize conversation. With time, we all learned to adapt to this new environment. Considering these extra precautions, I’m still able to create connections between students. Everything feels as normal as it can be during this time.

In one of the CAPS Reflect-Ins, we read the poem, “A Bed for the Night” by Bertolt Brecht. It was about a man that collected beds for the homeless on the snowy streets of New York. While he was doing a charitable deed, the poem reiterated that his actions wouldn’t change the world. This poem made me think of the concept of “intern work.” Classically, people imagine the intern as the person that gets coffee for the office. It’s the kind of work that anybody can do, but nobody wants to do it. Adjectives to describe “intern work” could be boring, unimportant, or tedious. Why is there such a negative stereotype?

We all have moments where we have to do something that’s less than glamorous. Let’s use taking out the trash as an example. I’m not “above” taking out the trash, but it’s not the most exciting thing in the world. Nevertheless, it must be done. If nobody does it, the place won’t be clean. As someone that likes to work in a clean office, I’ll do whatever it takes to contribute to that cause. If that requires taking out the trash, then I am happy to do it!

Even though I have a positive attitude about taking out the trash, I can still admit that it’s not going to fulfill my soul. It’s not a sign of ingratitude to acknowledge that a task does not fuel your passion nor help you discover something new about yourself. You’re just being honest about your feelings. It can be hard to look at the big picture when we can’t see the fruits of our labor in real time, but I have to remind myself that these small tasks, like cleaning the facility, will create a space for those larger opportunities that make me feel fulfilled.

I think part of our identity is wrapped up in our job and our self-esteem is heavily tied to our merits. If we think our work is boring, we imagine ourselves as boring. If we perceive our work as impactful and meaningful, we envision ourselves that way, too. When we see other people doing impressive and grandiose things, it can be easy to question ourselves than to celebrate others.

Value can be found in the smallest of jobs. At work, we often joke that the person taking temperatures is the “sanitization specialist.” The job sounds a lot cooler when you give it a fancy title, but does that change the nature of the task? Not necessarily. So how can we rethink the narrative of intern work? First, recognize the chain reaction that comes with doing a small task. If someone doesn’t do X, this could prevent someone from doing Y. Second, identify how you can develop long term skills from a task. Our director Katie gave the great example that getting coffee is an opportunity to network with employees. Finally, do some self-reflection whenever these feelings arise. Complaining about work does not mean you’re being ungrateful, but it is still important to figure out what’s going on inside. If your ego is tied to your merits or you catch yourself comparing yourself to someone else, remind yourself that work is not the only place where you can derive your sense of self-worth.

Unfinished by Marie Dix

This is the last of my 11 weeks with the refugee case management team at Heartland Alliance. I admit there is much about this remote work that I won’t miss: being on hold for 15 minutes with an insurance company, realizing that the reason my coworkers were ignoring me was because I was muted, and the frustration of being “it” in games of four way telephone tag between clients, interpreters, and other offices. There’s even more that I will miss though: my coworkers (and the gifs they send in our Microsoft Teams chat), the families I’ve come to know, and the opportunities to learn about the world without leaving my bedroom.

 

My sphere of awareness grew beyond the four walls of my cozy suburban house to encompass the ongoing genocides in Myanmar/Burma, the torture and murder of LGBTQ people in many African nations and the harsh realities of rebuilding a life in a country with endless freedom yet endlessly complicated bureaucracy. My prayer is that I will not sink into the feelings of apathy and helplessness that tempt us to shrink our world once again in order to avoid the pain and responsibility of our global reality.

 

After I’ve met people who’ve faced (and overcome) challenges like war, torture, starvation and homelessness, how will I respond to discomfort and suffering in my own life? How will I respond to the struggle of my friends, my family, strangers? How will I think differently about what I hear in the news and see on the streets? How will it change my conversations? How will I let this work change me?

 

It feels weird to stop when so much is incomplete. I have a list of “loose ends” I hope to tie up before Friday (it’s 14 items long), but that doesn’t include all of the ends I’m forced to leave loose. Some applications I worked on will sit pending for nine months. Some people won’t return my calls before I go. I’ve made referrals I can’t follow up on, and appointments I can’t send reminders for. I will never meet the babies whose mothers we’ve been equipping with supplies and childbirth education. Honestly, it’s possible I won’t even see my coworkers from the shoulders down.

 

But I suppose that’s how it goes, the line of interns keeps moving and I must trust that the people I care for will be taken care of.