So Why Am I Even Here?

I've been pondering the title of this post for over a week now, thinking about how it sounds a little too scary and saturated with frustration or contempt. But it is honest, and exactly what I need to say. What I mean by this is something completely different than you probably think, but I need you to be patient through the next few paragraphs for me to be able to explain.

       What is this adventure I am on anyway? Is it a Mission Trip, is it just a job, is it that stereotypical early twenty-something going to Europe to find themselves? Is is a combination, or is it something completely different? Why am I here? What am I meant to do here?

       The answer to those questions hasn't been clear to me at all. When people donated to this trip I think there was some sort of romanticized sense (even with me) that I would be going to some underprivileged-barely functional school to teach kids who otherwise wouldn't get an education at all. That is far from the truth.

     The truth is that I'm a a young graduate with a degree in Non-Profit work that is employed teaching English and History to the 6th most prestigious high school in the country. This is despite having taken neither of those subjects in college and having barely any experience in a classroom. I didn't realize that, and I didn't realize how privileged these students were going to be. I've only met two graduates. One works in the city center here in town and the other is in his first year at Cambridge. They aren't suffering, and they accomplished that without any of my help.

     Before you go and get upset, thinking I'm some sort of sham, I need you to know that I certainly do think I have a mission here and do have a purpose to serve in this place. It's just far from the stereotype of the shoe-less children standing with their young teacher in the dirt in front of the one-room school house. These students don't look at me as this rich-privileged American with a perfect life. They clearly see through me and my nation's flaws. They think Americans are a little crazy but I've never heard a single one talk about being envious of us or our way of life. But I didn't come here to be flattered, and I didn't come here to show anyone that America is better. I came here to... I guess just teach.

      But teaching is a job in America right? Why is teaching here any different? Why is being a teacher in this frankly, random country (from an American perspective) so worthy of being a service job for the ELCA? For the first few weeks I couldn't tell you the answer to that. I most certainly couldn't tell you why I am here.

      When I first arrived I was greeted warmly by both the ELCA and Slovak staff. The school staff wouldn't stop talking about how excited they were for us to be there, and that they've been praying for us since before the last teachers even left. I was wondering why. Why am I so important? I'm certainly not the only one qualified to teach English in this school. They brought us to our flat, showed us where the grocery store was, and let us go. We spent the first few days getting comfortable and exploring a bit, still trying to figure out why it is that I'm here.

      I began meeting co-workers, a few students, and important people to the school community. They were all VERY happy that we were here. I don't know why. It felt a bit like we were the puppies someone brought home and everyone is excited to watch us chase our tails and try to bark. We certainly weren't zoo animals on display or anything, but I found it odd how many people just wanted to meet us, when the only thing different about us was where we came from. It got even more confusing when I realized that there is an entire English Department, and many fluent English-speaking teachers, some even with Master's Degrees. I thought that was my job, and these people likely know better English than I do.

     Time went on and classes started, I struggled awkwardly through my first few weeks of meeting students and trying to remember what my teachers did when I was in school. It was really hard. For those few weeks I didn't care why I was there, I just didn't want to get fired for doing something wrong. Homesickness set in, I was the loneliest I've ever been. I'm alone in another continent with everyone I love still in America. I felt stupid for leaving, and trapped with the feeling of no being qualified as a teacher or informed enough about the topics I was teaching. I struggled to get out of bed. More than ever I was beating myself up, thinking 'why am I even here'.

   It is important that you remember that this is a blog and not some brilliant short-story about me seeing God. I'm here to be honest, and I didn't have any fancy epiphany or song that made me break down in church and see what was obvious all along. I worked at it. I thought about it all the time. Every single thing I did or learned I kept pushing my brain to tell me where it fit in the bigger picture.  I felt immense guilt that I was wasting away the money that people donated for me to come here because I wasn't doing any good with it. I have been avoiding Facebook because I don't have any of those 'I made someone's day' posts that I really wanted to have so people would know they were right to invest in me. I tried to be nice and give food to a homeless lady and she didn't even want it.

      Finally the answer came to me. But it didn't come in this fancy box, during hours of meditation, and certainly not during that one time I gave a bag of food from the store to that homeless lady and she chased after me to give it back. I think part of my purpose here is to teach Slovak people English and a bit about America. But I think much more of my purpose is to teach my American community/donors/family about  the world here. It's not backwards, it's not wrong, I didn't come here to save anyone's day or be a national hero.

     I think I came here to be shocked at how happy people can be that aren't doing things 'the American way'. I truly believe that when I applied to the Central Europe Teaching Program the recipient was me more than it is them. These people do need, and they do value American teachers for our clear pronunciation, cultural diversity, and general knowledge of how English works without really thinking about it. However, maybe the people that are more in 'need' are the ones reading this right now. Not that any of you are homeless, illiterate in English, or ignorant people by any means. But learning a bit about how the world works from a part of the world many of you can't even find on a map (which I was guilty of too) is not going to hurt anybody. We hear in church all the time about loving our neighbors, well these are my neighbors, and maybe through this blog they can begin to feel like yours too.

P.S.
    In the midst of my struggle to discover my purpose here I was digging through the crumbled, ripped pages of a class set of Tom Sawyer books that I planned to assign to the class. The books are a wreck. They look decades old and they are used all the time. I went to my vice principal about it to see if there were any other copies I could use. She told me that was the case with most books here, and there isn't anything they could do about it until the end of the year. This really frustrated me, and I really didn't know what to do about it. These kids need to do 3 literature units a year but they can't do it if they can't even use the book.

    I remembered then that I had been blessed with bit of money given to me by generous donors to use while I am here. So far, that money has gone only to food, clothes, and necessary transportation, but I don't suspect I will be running out anytime soon. With that being said, for anyone who is interested in helping me replace a few sets of books for the English library, please let me know. I have record of each person who has donated to me, and the amount that they have been given. If anyone feels that their donation would be rightfully served by helping pay for replacement books, please let me know. I know the students would be very very grateful. I might even be able to get your name written on a bookshelf or in the books themselves.