Tell us a little bit about what you’re doing now.

My hometown is Wayne, Pennsylvania, which is about thirty minutes outside of West Philadelphia. I go to school in Central Pennsylvania, where I am a sophomore Penn State University. There are about forty or fifty thousand students that share campus with me, so there is never a dull moment. I am majoring in Recreation, Park, and Tourism Management with a minor in Sustainability Leadership. Both departments are much smaller than the overall student body, so I have enjoyed getting to know the faculty and other RPTM students better over the last two years. Pegula Ice Arena has also become a kind of niche for me. I started working there the summer of my freshman year, the summer after I returned from Senegal, and have recently been promoted to be a Zamboni Driver! When I’m not in class or at the rink (which is rare), I can be found at the gym, doing a crossword puzzle, or volunteering with various local organizations, such as Penn State Dance Marathon, Hearts for Homeless, and Lion’s Pantry.

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

People ask me this question a lot, and it’s difficult to answer, but what helps me figure out a response is considering what I think about when I really miss Senegal. More often than not, the things I miss are probably a little mundane, but are what meant the most to me by the end. For example, there was one time my little sister Awa fell asleep on my shoulders as we walked home from the candy store. This was the same two-year old that would run away from me crying when I first showed up in October. After some time, she was able to feel at ease with me. She knew me; she trusted me. I may have bought her love with a lollipop here and there… but I never felt so at home in Kebemer. (I also brought back a scrap of fabric from the tailor shop I worked at to serve as a bandana for David Jenkins in return for some Ecuadorian chocolate, and then he wore it around his neck for all of Re-Entry… so that was pretty great.)

Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni?

In the past, the fellows seem to have been exactly what I needed at any given moment. When I was in Senegal, there were times when I feared that the adjustments I was making were causing me to lose inherent parts of myself from home. For example, I like to make people laugh with witty remarks, but it was difficult to do so without the language skills it took to say them. Not to mention, Senegalese people just had a different sense of humor – so I worried I was losing mine. This was around the same time as the first Training Seminar, when I saw my fellow fellows for the first time in two months. We had to find our way there ourselves, so the nine of us from my region squeezed into a car made for seven for the six hour trek. I still remember how both of my sets of cheeks were hurting by the time we arrived.

After being three years removed from Senegal, the fellows continue to be sources of light. Sometimes I fear the same things, but switched around. The Wolof people were notorious for being outgoing, so I got more comfortable with talking to strangers during the year. I learned how much I enjoyed making connections with different people. The culture on my college campus now is much more reserved, so occasionally I worry I am becoming too adjusted, and therefore am losing some of the fearless social skills I acquired in Senegal. The fellows are not as close-by anymore to help me navigate through challenges, but I think of them and am reminded of the person I knew I wanted to be leaving Senegal. Every letter, phone call, or quick visit (if we’re lucky enough) holds me accountable and keeps me grounded. They remind me of home, wherever that may be.

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Looking back on your Global Citizen Year, what part of your experience has had the greatest impact on you and why?

Once during the year, I got incredibly sick – to the point where I felt like I was on my death bed. It was kind of like the flu: I couldn’t keep any food down, had little energy, and made frequent trips to the bathroom. This is one of my favorite memories from Senegal, as crazy as it sounds. My default style of tending to a sick person is giving them space, though my host mother did not share the same approach. I vividly remember trying not to throw up on her as she knelt next to my bed, because of all things she could be doing, she was yelling at me to eat more! I was exhausted already, and trying to explain why food wasn’t helping my stomach situation really wasn’t helping my concerned-parent situation either. It only made her try harder to get me to eat. We went back and forth like that for so long that it became funny. I don’t entirely remember how it ended, but I do know that I will never forget how connected I felt to her in that moment. We paid no mind to the country we were from, the language we spoke, the color of our skin, or anything like that; it was just a mother trying to convince her stubborn, sick teenage daughter that she knew what was best. So with that in mind, I think what had the greatest impact on me was realizing the potential for human connection. We all want to feel this sense of belonging, and I think things like empathy, compassion, and respect make that possible. They chip away at surface level differences and bring people together, but only if we let them, so it reminds me to be a little bit more vulnerable with others to make those deep connections.

How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

One thing in particular that comes to mind is the internship I had last summer with Ed Snider Youth Hockey Foundation. Their mission is to “build lives and unite communities” by providing hockey programming to youth in the Philadelphia area that would otherwise not have the opportunity to play. It was my first internship, and as the youngest of about thirteen interns, and one of the only female coaches, I was a little different from everyone else. My job duties varied from making copies, to teaching nutrition lessons, to helping with on-ice activities. Although the tasks differed, executing each one required the same skills: taking initiative, problem-solving, and having patience, to name a few.

Working as an apprentice with a tailor in my host community forced each of these things to become second nature. For example, there were only three sewing machines available, but five employees. It was often up to me to find a way to contribute regardless. Since I had no prior sewing experience either, there were even more occasions when I severely messed up a hem or sleeve and had to completely re-do it. Having that experience made it so much easier for me to hit the ground running in a new environment, because I was able to apply what I learned build on it. It has also given me more opportunities. For example, someone who knew of my tailoring experience in Senegal introduced me to someone who started a trade school in Zambia for women, because she was looking to build their tailoring program! I have not been out there as of yet, but this is just one opportunity I now have thanks to Global Citizen Year.

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

There have been numerous times during my undergrad studies where I understand class material better only because of my bridge year experience. Many of my courses thus far have been about globalization, language, anthropology, and experiential learning – so I’m often able to make connections between class discussions and my time in Senegal. For example, one of my professors discussed female genital cutting in African countries with my class (I realize this isn’t the most pleasant example to use, but it’s the one that sticks out). In our society, where we are so aware of health concerns and best practices for anything, it’s hard to grasp why something like FGC exists anywhere. With that being said, the cultural awareness I acquired after reading However Long the Night by Molly Melching and living with a host family in Senegal allowed me to better comprehend why people value such different things in different places. My personal experience helped make sense of what I was learning, and vice versa.

A bridge year abroad contributes to education by enabling students to apply knowledge and ask questions, rather than just absorb the answers. This is especially important in today’s political climate because our nation has become increasingly polarized. Now, more than ever, we cannot afford to make assumptions about another person based on what little we know about our traditions or values. Asking questions and being mindful is a gateway to understanding.

How are you continuing to live life in your stretch zone?

One of my favorite quotes is, “If you are the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.” Sometimes I’ll re-evaluate where I am and where I should be, and then I’ll try to put myself in the spot that’s more challenging. For example, I have been pursuing experiences similar to the one I had with Global Citizen Year. I recently received an acceptance letter to study abroad in St. Petersburg, Russia for the 2017-2018 Academic Year. If I decide to go, I’ll be living with a host family and taking classes there. The Global Citizen Year experience has definitely helped prepare me to integrate myself into a completely new environment, but it’s still intimidating. I’ve never been to Russia before, and therefore know nothing about it (besides what everyone hears on the news), but I’m intrigued by the challenges that the year would bring. They are opportunities for growth that I know better than to pass up.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

There are no right or wrong choices (because ultimately you have to do what’s best for you and your family), but I definitely think there is a better choice in the long term. The further removed I get from my Global Citizen Year, the more I realize that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to just be. There was no rush to be anywhere or do anything. The goal was simple: to be present in the moment and make the most of each one. I’ll admit that sometimes I lost sight of that because each day was so long, but as fellows will tell you, the year is short. I have found that there are so many colleges and universities that aren’t going anywhere any time soon, but the number of people telling me to travel for a year and learn about myself is going down as I grow up. Take advantage of an opportunity like that while you’ve got it.

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am… up for anything!

Ready to start your own adventure?

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Tell us a little bit about what you’re doing now.

During my bridge year, I decided to look into universities abroad and stumbled upon the Global30 program in Japan which led me to studying at the University of Tsukuba. Asides from my pre-req courses, I’ve also begun to study under a thesis- building seminar focusing in sociology. I’ve not yet narrowed my focus down for a thesis yet but this upcoming semester, for a short academic writing piece, I will dive into the intersectionality between the American prison industrial-complex and social racism against people of color in the U.S. Outside of my studies, I play on my school’s softball team and enjoy team bonding activities with my teammates.

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

That’s a tough one. Strangely, I would have to say leaving India. Saying my goodbyes to my friends, host family, and students made me realize just how strong the connections I made with them were. My coworkers put together a going-away party at the school and made a slideshow of pictures. Of course, I cried my heart out. Saying goodbye to my students was the hardest; They drove me crazy nearly every day, but I knew I would miss them to pieces. The sweetness of this bittersweet conclusion finally hit me when I entered the Mumbai airport and I felt nothing but gratitude for the experience.

Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni?

Yes! Words cannot express what I feel for the Global Citizen Year community. I’ve met some of the most incredible people through this program and have never stopped learning things from this network of intellectual, passionate individuals. These amazing people have inspired me on so many levels and has played a huge role in my personal development, whether they know it or not. The diverse perspectives brought to the discourse we engage in at Global Citizen Year has provoked so much thought for me and has led me to become a curious, knowledge hungry person. In addition to this incredible intellectual stimulation, Global Citizen Year fellows provide support – on all levels. Regardless of what year we took our Global Citizen Year, whether or not we’ve met in person, or where we are in our careers, the connection we all share is so supportive. We are all constantly sharing information about awesome opportunities and encouraging each other to seek out experiences that will push us to grow in new ways. Global Citizen Year is not just an eight-month experience; it’s a lifetime full of connections, and I know that Global Citizen Year will keep popping up in my life.

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Looking back on your Global Citizen Year, what part of your experience has had the greatest impact on you and why?

I would say all the times of frustration and challenge. Some days felt like a week and were just really, really hard to get through and some days I wondered if I could get through the program all together. Living abroad is tough especially in such a different country that feels like a whole different world at times. All the times a rickshaw driver tried to charge me double price, all the times I was splashed with roadside water, all the times I got lost. Those moments of frustration taught me patience and the live-and- let-go attitude. The cohort started exchanging these stories of frustration and calling them “India moments” and we started to embrace and laugh at them.

How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

During my bridge year I learned the value of diversity, specifically diverse perspectives. I realized how important it is to hear voices from different types of people with different backgrounds to engage in inclusive conversations. Because of this, I started look for international programs that has diverse student bodies which let me to the Global30 program of Japan, so I applied to the University of Tsukuba, one of the few schools that had an international and social studies department. Before my Global Citizen Year, I never would have thought that I would pursue my bachelors abroad but here I am!

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

Modern day education is a numbers game. GPA, class rank, SAT and ACT scores. And how do students make those numbers impressive? Memorization. Inhale the information you’re given, don’t chew it, just spit it back out. That’s how we learn to succeed. We are taught to regurgitate information to pass exams rather than absorb it and apply it to the real world. Simultaneously, more and more students are losing their passion for learning at young ages and are viewing each educational milestone as another task to check off on the to-do list without knowing why they have a list in the first place.

But I think a bridge-year, at least for my bridge-year experience with Global Citizen Year, gives students the opportunity to step back and reflect on what it is they want to get out of their lives and what steps they can take to get there. I’ll admit that I was mindlessly floating through my education prior to my Global Citizen Year and it’s a shame to think of all the opportunities I missed out on because I didn’t have the drive then that I have now. While in India I learned the importance of being both present and active; How I must be engaged if I want to see change in our society. How I must question the issues I see and dig deeper to see the roots. How I must be never stop seeking knowledge. These learnings that came out of my bridge year have led me to become a politically active individual who seeks to be a part of the political discourse, both nationally and internationally. In today’s political climate, young students not only should be, but must be more engaged. Change and improvement lies within the new generation and if we don’t take that seriously, we will never live to see change.

How are you continuing to live life in your stretch zone?

Living and studying in a different country in which I don’t completely speak the language is definitely a challenge that stretches me, some days more than others. I push myself to use Japanese more even when I don’t need to so I can exercise my language skills. I joined the softball team to make Japanese friends and practice my conversational Japanese and I recently took a part-time job to practice my formal Japanese. Though I could get away with speaking mostly English, I promised myself I would make an effort to learn as much Japanese as possible while I am here. Some days it’s really hard to find that drive to consciously choose to be stretched, but I always remind myself of the long game; The challenges right now are just growing pains and I’m excited to see how they shape me.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

If you are considering a bridge year, ask yourself why. If you are considering college, ask yourself why. Reflect on your motivations for both paths. Research bridge year programs, research undergraduate programs. Ultimately, the choice is yours and there is no wrong path – everyone’s path is unique. Choose the path you feel most passionate and excited about and most of all, the one you feel ready for.

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am… Confident

Ready to start your own adventure?

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Tell us a little bit about what you’re doing now.

Right now, I am living in Berlin, Germany. Every morning I take the U-bahn from the colourful district of Prenzlauer Berg to school where I study Politics and Ethics. I work as a Civic Engagement assistant at school, organizing and facilitating weekly language sessions for refugees and students. Recently, I have also started to volunteer with an organization that provides assistance for refugees during their asylum procedure, with a focus on the storytelling aspect of the interview.

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

I will never forget the train ride to Nagpur with my host mother. She had been invited to speak at the university there and she asked me to come with her. So there we were, packed and ready for our fourteen hour train ride across the state of Maharashtra. This could have been late October maybe, and the green of the monsoon had already started to disappear. We sat side by side, both reading, as our train rode through a dusty landscape of yellowish grey, brown and pale pink. Every now and then we would talk, but mostly it was just simple contentment of being together. We slept in the thin sheets of the train company, we laughed at poorly translated names of the train vendors’  merchandise, we ate luke-warm chapati with cauliflower. I wrote in my diary and realized how loved I felt. Yes, I was in an unknown country, an unknown landscape. But right there we were a mother and a daughter, nothing more.

Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni?

I could have never have predicted how much the other Global Citizen Year fellows would come to mean to me. During my Global Citizen Year I found some of my closest friends and we are still in touch, hoping to arrange a way to see each other again. One of the things I love most about these relationships is that they emerged in a place where we all were so vulnerable. We fell into each other’s lap at a time where we did not really have a choice but to be open. And they still serve as a reminder of this genuineness, this effortless sharing. I love talking to the people who met me when I was going through such a crucial experience, and they remind me to keep discovering, to keep being brave.

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How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

During my bridge year, I realised the importance of values. For some reason it had never really occurred to me to figure out why I want to stand for what. Carried away by the charm of relativism I had shrugged off questions as to what I believe in. Now I am much less scared to stand for things and consequently I try to follow my values. I became vegan, I protest, I take classes that will give me the tools to figure out how to create an impact. I went from ‘knowing’ to ‘realising’, and right now I am working to turn that ‘realising’ into ‘achieving’.  

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

We live in a world where it is becoming easier and easier to stay in your own bubble. Facebook is an echo chamber of your views, your friends all kind of agree with each other. Chances are that your college experience will only reinforce your views even further. All this is so comfortable, so tempting. But precisely because of that it has become crucial to force yourself to go beyond. I believe a bridge year is an opportunity to step outside of your political, social and economical reservation. There is so much to be learned by trying to find your values in a place that disorients you, by trying to find direction in a place where you don’t yet belong. I believe education is first and foremost about learning to ask questions and to listen. And what better way is there than to do that in a place where you won’t ever know the answer beforehand?

How are you continuing to live life in your stretch zone?

I try to push myself with little things and my work with refugees has definitely been one of these. I speak German, but teaching the language has been an entire different challenge. It is a constant game of balancing but I enjoy it, and I try to laugh whenever I slip.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

If you have ever wanted to be an adventurer, a writer, a thinker, an artist or a lover,  there is only one thing to do: close your eyes and jump.

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am…  not merely looking, but trying to see.

Ready to start your own adventure?

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Adaptable to a fault. This was the conclusion Mika, my regional coordinator and I came to following one of our later catch up sessions where we discussed how I had gotten used to the new environment I had been immersed in. I honestly was convinced that you could put me anywhere on the map and I would be able to adapt without an issue. I would have never guessed that my difficulty in adaptation would come from the society I was supposedly returning to.

My first few months at college seemed to be very much like everyone else’s. I went to class, made new friends, joined a sport/club, went to some parties. The typical college experience really. However, it was only around the end of my fall semester that I became aware of the fact that, though I wasn’t struggling where I was, I was very much coasting through. It hit me that, though I was present physically, I was still mentally in the Amazon I had called home for the previous year. I was yet to explore all the opportunities that were open to me, yet to venture on the paths less trodden, yet to taste the fresh produce of the small Vermont town of Middlebury. It was almost as if I had learned nothing from the past year.

While Vermont may not have been the bustling hub of life that the Amazon was, I had overlooked it’s glorious mountains, which go from deep greens in spring, to shades of a fiery spectrum in fall. I had overlooked the winter wonderland that surrounded us, from the sheets of white snow all around to the frozen drops that perpetually hung from the leaves. Somehow, I was behaving exactly how I had behaved during my first few months in Ecuador and largely confined myself to my places of comfort, only coming out when necessary. I needed to re-learn immersion.

It was only then that I realised that, my bridge year, was not the whole story, but rather the introduction to a new way of experiencing life. My bridge year was not just a time for me to explore my stretch zone in isolation and return to the safety of my comfort zone for the rest of my life, constantly reassuring myself that my bridge year had been enough stretching or me. While, yes, my time in Ecuador had pushed me to the limits of my stretch zone, I had allowed that to be the end of my exploration. I had failed to see that I didn’t survive the Amazon, but rather learned all the necessary tools for exploration needed to explore any location I found myself in.

And so I write this from the ledge of my comfort zone as I am about to dive out of my comfort zone and sky-dive right back into the stretch zone I had assumed I was escaping. I stand here with a reminder for any fellow coming to the end of your time in Global Citizen Year to remind you that, while your time in country may be coming to an end soon, don’t let that be the end of you testing your stretch zone. This is only the beginning of your journey.

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Tell us a little bit about what you’re doing now.

I currently live on my university’s campus in Aliso Viejo, California, which is about an hour from Los Angeles and San Diego. A different change from Boston, but I love the 70 degree Fahrenheit weather in December! My university is only 15 years old and we focus on a humanistic education approach that consists of dialogue, small classroom sizes (average is 12), and our mission statement even includes the phrase “Global Citizen”. Language study is required for four semesters and if we wish to graduate, we must supplement it by studying abroad our third year on campus.

In the summers, I work in luxury retail at Donna Karan New York in a suburb outside Boston, while during the semester, I work with prospective students helping to prepare various prospective student activities as well as everyday tours. Even before the start of my Global Citizen Year, I have been involved in social justice activism, but it was not until I returned from my experience that I began to attend workshops and protests to show my commitment to smashing Hetero-sexist, queerphobic white supremacy. Additionally, after researching firsthand about the public healthcare system in Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil and writing a paper on our findings, my professor approached two other students and me about co-authoring an academic paper.  

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

My favorite memory was on March 28th, 2015.

On March 28th, 2015 I received my yellow cordão in capoeira. In fact, I got to share it with two other Fellows (Jaxom and Juno) who lived in my host town as we had been training for nearly the entire duration we were there. My host family–both immediate and extended– were the one who ran the capoeira classes in town. I remember this day because I woke up to the fragrant smell of fish, and I could even hear it sizzling as soon as I had come out of my room that morning to brush my teeth. Smelling and hearing fish cooking in the morning meant one of two things: Tonho, my host dad, went at 5 A.M. to buy freshly caught fish because either my extended host family were coming over or we were celebrating something. I had vaguely remembered Tonho mentioning my graduação would be one of these Saturdays before we had to separate.

As soon as I got out of the bathroom, put my contact lenses in, and got dressed, my host dad greeted me with that type of adorable smile he gave when we first met at praia de Garopaba (beach in downtown Garopaba). Only this time I felt it was not a smile that was masked with uncertainty like the first time. This time you could see the dimples that outlined his freshly shaven face, which also signaled something “big” was going to happen. I smiled back and a bom dia slipped out of my mouth. Ianê, my host mother, had appeared from behind me and asked me why I was awake so early. In Brazil, I would sleep very long hours, and to this day, I am not sure why. Perhaps that was the way I coped with culture shock and stress. Either way, I was up at around 8 A.M.. She then asked me if I was ready for today.

Nao sei, Ianê.

At this point, I was coming to terms with the fact that I would soon be separated from these people I had called a second-family. This capoeira graduation I knew would be celebrating not only my achievements in capoeira, but also my achievements during the year. I remembered I had told myself to celebrate the small victories on the language battlefield and staying in my stretch zone.

I washed some lettuce and tomatoes, began to dice them up for a salad and then added some cucumbers. Lunch, the most important and sizable meal of the day in Brazil, was served at the usual 12PM. The usual fifteen minute awkward silence also began until I asked them when they got their first yellow cordão. My favorite part of lunch aside from the home-cooked food they made everyday ensued: story time!

While the graduação had been a celebratory fanfare of congratulations, photo taking and endless maculelê, my favorite memories were waking up to the smell of fish and this: after the graduação, my host dad and I bought two cans of cerveja. We got home and before the entire capoeira crew of Garopaba, São José, and Palhoça came to dance the night away, my host dad poured the cerveja into two glasses. I was still in this state of pure joy that I grabbed one glass, handed it to him, grabbed the other and we raised our glass cups. He too also had a bright smile coming from his eyes, something I hadn’t seen up until now, March 28th, just ten days before we had to separate.

Parabéns para ti. Parabéns por hoje. Estou muito orgulhoso de você.

Congratulations. Congratulations for today. I am very proud of you.

Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni? 

I still keep in contact with some members of my cohort. One of the people I can now call my best friend was in the same year and cohort as me (Shout out to Isaac King!). One of the most valuable aspects of Global Citizen Year is the alumni network. My university’s “culture of care” directly parallels this alumni network in that we share a common experience of taking a risk, and although I do not know every single one of the alumni that were in my year or years prior and future, there are unspoken complementary energies among us. It’s like the first time you meet with an alumnus/a that you had only talked to on Facebook asking if you could crash at their university dorm room because your previous host had a last minute conflict. You are carrying a heavy duffel on the streets on busy Manhattan and you are trying to find the correct entrance to NYU. You see your GCY alumnus host and he is in a frantic scurry because he is late for a dinner. But the glances briefly exchanged as we are walking quickly up the stairs, there is a mutual reassurance and comfort. The feeling where you both know that you both really want to return to a place where you are surrounded by people who want to take risks, humiliate themselves, be vulnerable, and speak the same language. The type of language where you want to leave, change, experience, and learn.

I can always connect back to some of my Brazil 2015 Fellows about bits of our experience or with previous alumni who have graciously lent me their couch. Exchanging words of value and wisdom about our own individual experiences and feelings during our experience and post-bridge year is refreshing. This network has given me valuable relationship-building experience, and I am always inspired by everyone’s stories and insight about their own experiences from their bridge year experience.

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Looking back on your Global Citizen Year, what part of your experience has had the greatest impact on you and why?

One aspect of my bridge year experience that first come to my mind is my relationship with my apprenticeship supervisor João. Overall, learning Brazilian Portuguese not only in the language classes but also among people my age who used slang, made corny jokes, etc in the same way young adults in the United States do was powerful. Communicating with people in their mother tongue allowed me to speak to both their heart and mind.

By the end of the third month in country, I had been working at the Instituto Federal de Santa Catarina Câmpus Garopaba, helping collect lab samples through the town’s beaches, creating conversational English workshops for students ranging from junior high school to those with grandchildren, and even working on a human rights film campaign.

One weekday night I was helping the science professors set up a science fair that the nearby junior high school kids had been working on the previous months. It was roughly 5:30PM, and the science fair was set to start at 7PM. Some alumni had told me before that concepts of time in Brazil (and the rest of Latin America) are very different than in the United States. They had warned me that I might feel frustration with people’s tardiness. So far, I hadn’t experienced anything of the sort, and this science fair seemed like it was going to start on time.

After moving all the necessary lab equipment and tri-folds onto the pickup truck, we got to the school and realized no one had keys to open the door of the school. Obviously, this was out of my control, so I stepped aside and waited a little bit assuming that someone would make a phone call to someone else who would then bring the key over and open the doors so that we could set up the event.

One of my colleagues was watching a funny video on Facebook, and as our other co-workers crowded around him, everyone bursted out laughing. After watching videos in a language I didn’t quite yet grasp, I sat back on the step of the front door too the school. It was now 6:15PM. João and I then decided to go back to the Instituto Federal to finish up some last minute tasks regarding my English workshop lessons. We returned back to the school at 7PM, and to my surprise, everyone was still waiting outside with ease and laughing at these funny Facebook videos. As someone who grew up on the east coast, where the “hustle” consists of occupying yourself with as many tasks as possible while working on an efficient rhythm, I became very anxious with this entire situation. I also noticed that none of the junior high school students or their families had shown up. I asked João what happened, and all he said was that this is how it is with a shrug and smile. At around 7:45PM João asked me if I wanted to have some coffee with him, and I nearly screamed, “Coffee? The doors are not even open yet!”. But I decided to go with the flow and João kept telling me to relax a little. At the time, it really bothered me that they had dismissed my frustration by telling me to relax. We went into this natural food shop that one of my student’s family owns and had some freshly squeezed beet and orange juice. Eventually at around 8PM the doors were finally opened, and people started to poor in.

While this example is perhaps a little extreme and not representative of Brazil as a whole, it nonetheless contradicted my own values on time. I grew up thinking that you need to balance as many things as possible and just power through them all to head towards that direction of success. However, “Brazilians work to live, while Americans live to work”, and if my experiences in Brazil had not shown me that, I would have thought that it was just another pulled block quote from somewhere. Brazilians like to take time out of the day and watch the sunset.

This change in pace has given me the ability to tell myself that it’s ok to not be ok. Often, I tend to take on as many projects as I can because it provides me with an escape from any external or internal conflicts I face. Taking time to watch the sunset, the waves kissing the shorelines at the beach in downtown or even having some coffee in the midst of things not going as planned, has given me more confidence to stand by my decision to sometimes have to say no if it means taking a break for my mental health.

How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

Taking a bridge year has strengthened my passion for international studies and social justice. Upon my return from Brazil, I moved to Aliso Viejo, CA to start my new university life at Soka University of America, where I am studying Liberal Arts and concentrating in International Studies. I can honestly say that I think about aspects of my bridge year everyday. Of course, I am not sitting in front of my school’s fountain pondering about empathy and accountability  per se, but I consistently find myself confronting those Global Citizen behaviors in various situations on campus.

Taking a bridge year has helped me to become bolder in taking on academic opportunities that suit my interest. I have participated in a handful of protests, workshops, and a social justice conference. I also participated in my university’ United Nations Study Tour, where a group of students went to the United Nations Headquarters in New York City fully-funded by our gracious donors and had debriefings with various United Nations workers. Also, we were able to sit in on some peace talks going on. Just recently this past January, eleven students, one professor, and I, after a rigorous grant application process, were awarded a generous $25,000 grant by the Nieves Family to study the public healthcare system in Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil. Returning to Brazil was almost like going back home because in some ways, I was again surrounded by Portuguese and copious amounts of sucos naturais, pão de queijo, e feijão preto, but it was my first time in the Amazon rainforest. Currently, I am doing research for an article alongside the professor and two classmates who went to Brazil about the Programa Saúde da Família aspect of Brazil’s public healthcare system.

This August I will study abroad in Taipei, Taiwan at National Chengchi University, and I hope to visit family in Malaysia and old friends in Korea and Vietnam along the way.

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

In short, my bridge year abroad forced me to encounter perspectives that had contradicted U.S.-ideals and values, and it made me question what exactly is the “right” perspective, if there is one. Storytelling had been such an integral part of my bridge year , and most nights as I would listen back or read any notes I had taken when listening to peoples’ stories and about their insight about my stories. In relation to education and our political climate today, we often forget that all these unfamiliar, abstract concepts of immigration, white supremacy, and resource exploitation can sometimes be other peoples’ realities both in and outside the United States. Stories provide that humanization often needed to help people who do not have direct experience with marginalization. These abstract concepts which most people tend to talk comfortably about in the safety of their own bubbles can be just as foreign as the host country Global Citizen Year puts you in, but it’s coming face to face with a story that pushes you to think beyond what you have been taught as the “correct” narrative.

How are you continuing to live life in your stretch zone?

When I was in Brazil, how I got into the stretch zone was by trying new things that I had thought I would never want to do. Before Brazil, I never danced or initiate conversations with new people. During my bridge year, I rode my host family’s bicycle to work, the beach, or even just to clear my mind. My best friend, Isaac King, I had mentioned before would always wander off away from the group and start conversing with any non-Global Citizen Year person closest.  Whether it was the owner of a gelato shop or someone waiting to catch the bus, he always brought this friendly type of energy that made anyone smile, laugh and join in the conversation. Eventually some of us would join in on the conversation as Isaac signaled us over; we were practicing our Portuguese while at the same time listening to this person’s story pertaining to anything from how their day was going to something about their family.

Before participating in my bridge year I was working at a Donna Karan New York store outside of Boston, and we would have many international clientele walk in and browse around. A majority of the time most did not speak or understand English, and as the only worker who spoke languages aside from just English, I would always be pushed to use my Cantonese or Mandarin ability. However, I would either just end up speaking English or not even bother to try. Upon my return, I restarted working at Donna Karan New York, and I noticed there were more Brazilian clientele than I had thought before.

“Eu acho que essa blousa não é bonita. Como funciona essa blousa? Por que tem isso?” I don’t think this shirt is nice. How does this shrit works? Why does it have this?

I snap my head ninety degrees smiling as they give me a strange glance of confusion and happiness (Brazilians are always happy to meet other Brazilians or people who have experience with Brazil/Brazilian Portuguese). I wittily reply, “Mas, você precisa experimentar. Muitos clientes compraram essa” But, you have to try it. Many clients buy it. I’m always met with the confusion of “How do you know Portuguese? Are you Brazilian? Wow you speak Portuguese?”. Then the conversation about how I ended up and why I ended up in Brazil begins and one time I talked to my clients for about two hours. While I might not remember their names or even some parts of their story, it’s that quick exchange of stories that continues to humanize or dispel any prejudices I have. It does not matter if I mix up a verb conjugation or say “Eu sou de bosta” vs. “Eu sou de Boston”  (I am shit vs. I am from Boston). This doesn’t matter because we just laugh about it or continue listening and telling our stories. You never know who you will meet.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

For the time being, a majority of public high schools provide their students with “college-tracks” and “work-tracks”, with the goals of each to attend a college for further studies and to gain essential skills for the workforce respectively. Yet, upon graduation, I did not know how to file my taxes, cook food, or even what a mortgage was. What led me to explore Global Citizen Year’s program was my ambition for a different type of learning. Nowadays, schools are like factories where students study, not learn. Teachers, parents and principals tell us that the “right” pathway is to go straight into college, get a degree, a good paying job, and then success will just follow. Perhaps this is true for some, but not everyone—I cannot wait for the day that at high school graduations, those taking a bridge year abroad are recognized for making this decision because holding a youth ambassador positions is just as crucial as holding a military one. Having been burnt out by graduation by redundancy and monotony, I chose not follow the conventional high school to college route.

How can we create value from what we learn for ourselves without the classroom as the central focus? For about eighteen years, our lives revolved around studying.  High school was like a factory–we sat in classrooms whether underfunded or equipped with smartboards and studied. We were told that in order to be “successful” we had to go directly into college. Evidently, people do find “success” in going directly to college, but as someone who does not come from a privileged background, which is outlined in On Becoming Whole, I never had time set aside to just focus on myself. I’m not talking about free time to do leisure activities. I am talking about putting yourself in uncomfortable situations, questioning why you are uncomfortable, what can I do to address this comfort externally, but more importantly, introspectively. High school required us to focus on academics, sometimes sports, and extracurriculars all for applying to college. On top of that you had to take socio-economically biased standardized testing and pay testing fees in addition to application fees, etc.

I’m not saying that by taking a bridge year, you can get rid of any of these potential financial or mental barriers, but taking a year off to learn and challenge yourself is something that high school did not give us. When is the next time I am going to wake up at 5:30AM, ride a bicycle to an organic strawberry farm 35 minutes in rural, southern Brazil? When is the next time I will samba on the city streets of Brazil? These experiences, no matter how romantically and culturally nuanced, teach us what we cannot learn in classrooms.

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am….. confident

Ready to start your own adventure?

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Tell us a little bit about what you’re doing now.

I live near/in the Grand Canyon, depending on the time of year. In the summertime I work in it’s grand and beautiful depths, guiding week+ long river trips. We show people of all sorts this natural wonder, connecting with the ancient time warp that lives inside that place. Most of my summer is spent down there, eliminating the need for rent; so I’ve mostly lived in my van between trips.

I have been attending college since Global Citizen Year …five years ago…and well…I almost have an associate’s! I have always been kind of a “bridge-life” kinda gal, so I’ve interwoven many life experiences into my traditional education. I plan on studying psychology for now and entering into the mind-body healing world.

Outside of that, music is my main gig

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

Oh goodness. There are so many. Singing around the fire with my community members sticks in my heart and mind and comes out in my memories almost every day. The down-time spent with fellows was also invaluable. Those people changed and formed my world.

 Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni?

Alba Marina and I have met up a few times for some fun travels, and I’ve seen Tonino Peluso a few times and my ramblings ‘round the west. Though it is very hard to choose a most formative part of my GCY, meeting the cohort was maybe the most powerful in that aspect. I had never really met people from big cities like that-progressive cities. I came from a tiny desert town on the side of Glen Canyon Dam, so interacting closely with young people with a million different backgrounds and mindsets opened up my head in a huge way.

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Looking back on your Global Citizen Year, what part of your experience has had the greatest impact on you and why?

I lived in an intentional community that, among many things, provided environmental education to people around the Itamboatá river valley. They did this not only from, say, a scientific perspective, but also from a spiritual perspective. They worked to help people of all ages put their hands and feet in the earth and breathe into it, reconnecting to a fading truth about humanity. I grew up in the canyons so I always loved nature, but I never quite realized our responsibility and power to preserve and protect this place.

How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

I came back from that trip and just about literally fell into the canyon. Opportunities opened all around and I landed the coolest job any little desert chick could ever dream of. Without my experience in Brazil, my mind would not have been supple enough, not open enough to be searching for such an opportunity. Challenges are abundant in the Canyon, and I might have never believed that I could overcome them without the strength I gained in overcoming one of the hardest things I’d ever done: learning Portuguese.

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

Global Citizen Year crushes comfort zones. Political, emotional, environmental, and spiritual change does occur inside the comfort zone. Can we even imagine what it feels like for a caterpillar to metamorphosis into a butterfly? Discomfort is inevitable, and I believe that testing that marrow at the ripe age of 18 prepares young people to deal with that discomfort effectively.

How are you continuing to live life in your stretch zone?

Well, I just got home from yoga

Haha, my whole life is a stretch zone. I take periods of rest too, but always with the intention of recharging and returning the radiant fire of life. Sometimes it burns and hurts and those moments usually hold the strongest growth. For now, I challenge myself mainly in the outdoors. I expose myself to the elements-often in their extreme form- to see what they can teach me. It’s usually quite a lot.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

Take it, kid. Free yourself from the goldfish mentality. The world will scoop you right up from bowl, to tank, to pond, all for the reasonable price of $65,000. They might even include a t-shirt, but what they don’t tell you is this: On the other of the wall, just beyond the pond, lies potential that you might not even be able to imagine just yet. But if you are reading this at all, it is there. Free yourself, my friends. Join the realm of the grand Garibaldi

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am.…. aware of the human-planet connection

Ready to start your own adventure?

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I clutched my phone nervously in the backseat of the rickshaw as the driver pulled up to what was supposed to be “Lagtap Dairy”.  We had driven about 15 minutes outside of Pune to an area I had never been before – it was dark, and all I could see were a few paan stalls sprinkled along the highway. The directions I had told me my bus back to Hyderabad, where I was studying, would stop in front of something called “ Lagtap Dairy,” opposite a Saraswat Bank.

With an exasperated grunt, the driver pulled over. “Lagtap square,” he said loudly, gesturing to the intersection we had arrived at. I handed him 120 rupees, grabbed my bag, and stepped out of the rickshaw.

I glanced back down at the email on my phone with my bus ticket. I repeated “Lagtap Dairy, opposite Saraswat Bank” over and over in my head, as I scanned the nearly empty road I was standing on. No bank, no dairy shop.

“Don’t panic,” I thought to myself. “Time to kick those navigational skills into high gear on this one.”

I walked up and down the wide, mostly deserted highway a few times, asking a few men seated on the curb for “Lagtap Dairy?” No one seemed to know. Eventually, I approached a middle-aged man buying cigarettes at a paan shop for help. I gave him my phone with the instructions on it, and he scanned the screen intently. Finally he walked to the edge of the curb, told me I wasn’t too far off, and rattled off an elaborate set of directions that would take me to where I needed to be.

Flustered, I thanked him. My face must have read the severe confusion I still felt at his instructions, mixed with my worry that I’d miss the bus.

“Do you want me to take you there?” He asked.

Without hesitation, I said yes. Normally, I am not one to accept rides with strangers, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He pulled up his car and I sat beside him in the passenger’s seat.

As we rode off down the highway, he asked me friendly questions about what I was doing in India and where I am from. We drove for about 5 or 10 minutes, he found the Saraswat Bank that stood in front of a sorry excuse for a milk/dairy products stand, and dropped me off. He even called the bus company for me to make sure I was in the right place, and found someone waiting for the same bus that I could stand with. He chuckled at my incompetence, made sure I was alright, and rode off with a friendly wave after I collected my nerves and thanked him profusely for his help.

Thinking back on this experience, I’m immensely grateful to this person. Obviously, he didn’t need to take me to the exact place I needed to be, or even help me. Thinking about it more, it made me realize that despite my sense of confidence in having lived in India for over 5 months at that point, I was still an infant in the nation.

The reason I was busing over to Pune was to visit the fellows and my former coworkers there. I had spent the fall interning with Global Citizen Year in Pune, and had left them after three months to travel and study abroad. My time with Global Citizen Year as an intern was a lot like my interaction with the nice guy from the paan shop: learning to strike a balance between independence and receiving help from others.

Working for Global Citizen Year in a different country was an extremely positive experience. I got to learn about and live in a new culture while working for an organization I believe in – what could be better than that? My role as an intern was a bit makeshift – we pretty much designed it as we went along. I did odd jobs like logistical planning and making endless spreadsheets, and got to do more exciting things like mentoring the fellows and working on finding new host families. As time passed, I realized the importance as well as uniqueness of a job like mine.

I’m only three years older than most of the fellows and have gone through the same exhausting and transformative eight months that they are going through now, even though it was in a different country. In this way, it wasn’t hard for me to relate to the fellows. I get how hard it is to operate in a country, language, and culture that’s not your own, and to be 18 years old and suddenly have a massive amount of responsibility heaped on your shoulders. Being there for the fellows outside the formality of coaching sessions with Team Leaders hugely impacted my time in India. I was able to connect with fellows so deeply, while (hopefully) providing support and guidance for them.

Working alongside the Global Citizen Year staff in Pune was also a remarkable learning experience for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever been around a group so thoughtful, hardworking, genuine, and positive. They pushed me to work harder and be better, and praised my contributions and ideas, despite my status as an unpaid intern with little work experience in the field. I met some of my biggest role models and was able to make deep, deep friendships, while being inspired to be my best self.

As an alumni intern, I straddled the world between fellow and staff. I had the trust of both sides, and got to live the experience from both sides. I had the status of having lived abroad and gone through the program before, but was still learning every day from those around me and making mistakes. I got to see India and continue to stretch myself by being a part of Global Citizen Year in a new capacity. Working for Global Citizen Year in Pune let me be independent, while reminding me daily that I still have loads to learn. I learned to be a mentor to others, learn from those that inspire me, and accept kindness from strangers when I can’t find my bus stop.  

The post From Ecuador to India: My Time As an Alumni Intern appeared first on Global Citizen Year.

While I was abroad, I had these powerful mantras “you only live once”, “what can I do with the (minimal) resources available?”, “what really cool things are happening in this place that I don’t know about yet?”. These Mantras lead me to my personal collection of “this one time” stories that are basic traveler’s exchange. Mine personal collection include my bread business I opened, hunting crocodiles, making a fishing rod to go fishing in the wild, honey harvesting,  my attendance to cultural rituals, learning about the local’s daily life, conversations around genital cutting, menstruation, their concepts of geography, response to death and birth and stories about my host family. While abroad, so much of our life is suspended and in flux, we have the courage, time and interest to follow the current of what is happening around us that we want to be part of. I learned how to build the adventure I wanted, because trust me, finding adventure is not a given in a place where most people either cook the national dish, tend their land, or drink tea (on an average day). Yet, our collective buzzing energy as Global Citizen Year Fellows, and our individual attitudes as travelers, manifested into an experience that matched what we brought into it.  

The mindset I had for my Global Citizen Year was a uniquely dynamic one. On the one hand, I was definitely mid-adventure. I was riding on the waves of “you only live once”, and navigating my daily, weekly, and monthly plans with an intensely curious and excited energy. On the other hand, I was living on the tail end of finding home. I was building a long-term depth to my relationships, and activities. I was planning ahead (on the scale of weeks and months) as if I had a completely independent life I was sinking into. Sometimes travelers would roll into town for the weekend and I would enjoy hearing their reflections of the place, and hear what it was like to pass through as a traveler and not a ‘local’. It felt to me like they were missing the point of the region, encapsulated in beautiful mundane moments that would fade in and out of the daily grind of work, rest, and conversing with locals in their language. 

This travel experience spoiled me. I left Global Citizen Year feeling inspired by travel, and yet holding an almost impossible definition of what good travel looked and felt like. In future trips abroad I felt like one of those travelers that was missing the local culture and beautiful daily mundane. Without a network of locals or language training, adventures felt shallow, and my sense of culture felt limited. 

A fellow student of mine courses at the University of Washington was explaining how she thinks every student should be required to study abroad. I asked about how that would be affordable or equitable, and she responded, “study abroad programs do not have to be expensive, it might be enough to have a home stay in the south (international) side of town, just enough away that they leave their comfort zone and enter a new culture”. It suddenly hit me; I don’t need to buy an airplane ticket to find my Global Citizen Year mindset. I started noticing what I was saying about my experience. “so how was it? what did you learn?” I would be asked, an impossibly hard question to navigate, “good. It was eye opening to live within another culture, to see all the ways they were different than me, and all the ways we were actually the same. While I was there I learned so much about my surroundings, I felt like anything was possible and that it was all an adventure. What stopped me from manifesting that sense in Seattle, Washington? One day I heard the concept of a Staycation, and I will forever reclaim it within my Global Citizen Year conception of vacation (as cultural and interpersonal immersion).

With this switch flipped in my brain, I felt empowered to bushwhack my own path. The same way I had to turn tea drinking and lounging into adventure, so too did 500 student classes and doing the daily dishes need to become something bigger. In Senegal, I pushed boundaries, and found the edges of what was possible in my world. Similarly, I had meetings with chair of my department to ask about what opportunities could be opened up where I had not suspected. I found myself doing extremely meaningful graduate level course work with the Learning Science grad students.

Moreover, I looked more closely at the city that I lived in. I started by volunteering for organizations that took me into space I would not have otherwise known. I worked at a youth homeless shelter near my house. I also helped an alternative school for students who were not being properly served in the public school system. I mentored struggling high school students at a local school navigate the college admissions process. I joined a gospel choir (which is not paid, but also not volunteer work) for a predominantly African American church in South Seattle.

The last thing I will mention here, is that I went into a predominantly minority elementary school and taught with the Center for Philosopher for Children. From there I made connection with local artists and started finding spaces that were absolutely foreign to me. I encountered Native American spirituality, like Sweat Lodges and Vision Quests. I also encountered new age spirituality, through Healing Circles, Michael Mead rituals called Mosaic Voices and a monthly event called Dream Dance which is part dance, part religious gathering, part group meditation. I started going to Social Justice meetings with radical Seattle Native Americans, Transgender folk, and anyone else angered with the way power has been propagating. I befriended the Circus Arts Community, and was invited to spend some time on a plot of land the community owns north of Seattle. I got entangled in the Improvisation community, and found avant-garde artist spaces such as Singing Circles, Movement Jams, and Music Jams, which would involve multiple hours of unstructured improvisation.

I invited myself to forgo shame or embarrassment and study the expressive arts. To my own amusement, I found myself in nude figure drawing classes, ballet classes, and teaching a college level improvisation class. The list continues, I have hit beyond saturation to my “this one time” stories for my life in Seattle. This one time, I was invited to board a giant school bus stuffed halfway up the side of the bus in pillows, packed with flamboyantly dressed dancers traveling across western coast to create a retreat in northern California for Partner Dancers. I was literally swallowed up into an alternative cultural experience right in my home state! So much so, that some of my friends and family refused invitations to join me, as my local ‘travels’ was too far out of their comfort zone.

Because of my language fluency, I could pick up the radical nuances to the way these sub cultural groups communicated, and because of my permanence, these spaces and the people occupying them became part of my community instead of just characters in my “this one time” story collection. I was not living in the alter-space of travel where time and professional life was on hold, I was learning how these cultures weaved into my primary conception of my world and myself. This distinction is important, as a lot of my learning in Senegal developed and physicalized into Hamidou Soure, the name I was given while I was with locals speaking their language. Sometimes fellows would ask me to speak in English so they could access Ariel instead of Hamidou (who was more abrasive, akin to the local culture). These four years since have been building Ariel Vardy from the same ashes Hamidou Soure was built- by exploring, questioning, immersing, finding presence, a sense of meaningfulness, and sourcing play as my greatest teacher.

I ask the question– what would it look like to harness the powerful perspective I had abroad in my own country? What walls are scalable? What culture can I connect with? Or simply, where can I find my aliveness in my very own home? 

I have now been invited to join Teach for America in South Louisiana. This to me, is the Peace Corps of my own people. How can I live, learn and grow in conservative America? As a trained American Educator, how can I employ my current locality to have access to depth and power that I can mobilize for connection, learning, growth and change? 

My vision is to employ the almost universal travel bug into the almost viral and national intolerance bug. What might it look like to introduce play and adventure into entering local cultural spaces that are outside our comfort zone? And larger than this, my vision is to employ the mantras of travel, a sense that we only live once, that we should ask questions about what is possible, that we should connect and learn from those around us, as a way to live our lives in general. The product, for me, has been quite ecstatic.

The post This One Time… appeared first on Global Citizen Year.

What have you been up to since your bridge year?

I am a freshman at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa. I’m double majoring in International Studies and Spanish.

What is a favorite memory from your Global Citizen Year?

My Global Citizen Year involved a lot of kids. My apprenticeship was at a local primary school where I worked as an assistant teacher and sometimes as an Arts and English teacher for 2nd graders. I had a really wonderful relationship with my students an with my two host brothers (ages 5 and 7), but not with my host cousins. I spent a lot of time at my host aunt’s house, and she has four sons aged from 1 to 10 years old. Seeing that my host cousins didn’t seem to like having me around was really confusing. I asked myself a lot of questions about what I could have possibly done wrong, since most of the time I work very well with kids. They all go to the school I was working in, but they would never say hi to me or acknowledge that they knew me at all.

One of my goals was to really push myself to get to know my host cousins. By the end of my time in Ecuador I had reached this goal, but it was from a completely unexpected situation. It was during the carnival time, the youngest boy, Anthony, was playing water balloons with the rest of the boys. I was sitting there and wasn’t sure if I should join. My host brother asked me if I want to play, and I said that I don’t like balloons. The rest of the kids were surprised to hear this, gave each other a look for a second, and then they all started to attack me with the water balloons. I started to run, they followed laughing, and as simple as that, we bonded.

Later that day I rememberer having the smallest one on my lap when we were watching television, and the rest of them wanted to sit next to me. Just the day after, when I went to work. I was in my classroom during the break when 3 of them came to say hi and give me a hug, I was so happy and it was one of the best days I have had in Ecuador. We maintained the relationship until the end of the program. They would run to me every time I visited them and walked me to the door when I had to leave, the smallest one would wave at me until he couldn’t see me. They are all so young but yet I learned so much from them. They didn’t dislike me, it’s just that I was new in their family, and they don’t understand the concept of hosting. At first I was just a random stranger that they didn’t trust. This wall took some time and a lot of effort to destroy but it was so rewarding for me to go beyond that wall.

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Are you still in touch with other members of your cohort or other Global Citizen Year alumni?

The connections I made during my year with the fellows is something that I am truly grateful for. Global Citizen Year has changed my perspective as whole, thus it was not easy for me trying to transition back to where I called home after spending so much time in my community in Ecuador. It was difficult sharing my experience with people back home and trying to make them understand. However, the fellows really provided me the support I needed. The friendships I have right now with the fellows is something that I really am thankful for. We don’t talk everyday but when any of us need to talk, I surely know that they will be there for me.

Looking back on your Global Citizen Year, what part of your experience has had the greatest impact on you and why?

I was struggling a lot trying to immerse myself into the community, but I knew I was supposed to be struggle in order to see what the community has to offer. Global Citizen Year really pushed me to be outside of my comfort zone, which was really impactful to me; I can never grow inside of my comfort zone. My last week in my community showed me how far I’d come since the first day I arrived. This place was so new to me then, I didn’t know anyone (and everyone would look at me because I was a stranger, and looked different). I didn’t know how to get home, I didn’t know where to get off from my bus, I was so uncomfortable being there.

However, during my last week in the community, I could simply close my eyes and map out the whole community correctly. I would walk downtown and everybody would say hi to me, and most of the time start a conversation. The place where I first thought it was so hard to be in, so far out of my comfort zone, had become the place where I felt I belonged and felt so comfortable just being in. I had managed to transition myself from that position to another. This had the greatest impact on me because it reflects on how open-mindedness and willingness of being outside of one’s comfort zone, which Global Citizen Year is passionate about, are truly the root of growth.

How has taking a bridge year impacted your college and/or career experience?

I honestly can not imagine myself coming to college without my Global Citizen Year experience. It has helped me so much in almost every aspect in my daily life. I learn, because I want to know, not just because I have to. Global Citizen Year also allowed me to explore myself which later led me to the decision of majoring in International Studies and Spanish, which was something I had completely no interest in before I took the bridge year. It is fascinating how much Global Citizen Year experience has impacted so much of my life, I would have been doing something completely different if I had said no to Global Citizen Year.

What do you think a bridge year abroad contributes to an education?

Definitely the new perspective. This is important because we usually know that other perspectives exist but do not truly understand and respect them. By spending time to really get to know another culture and try to learn from it helps us to see the world differently, not only through other people’s words and the media, but really through our own eyes and experience. Absorbing and learning new cultures also requires the advanced skill of perception, which is a crucial skill that contributes to the education in this increasingly diverse world.

What would you say to someone who is on the fence between going directly to college after high school and taking a bridge year?

Take a bridge year! It was so far the best decision I’ve made in my life and it’s unbelievable how impactful the year was for me after I completed it. I felt like I left the program as a new person. I let Ecuador be my classroom and I let everyone I met be my teachers, I learned from them and I was truly engaged into each lesson. There is no better time to explore and learn about yourself and the the world than the year after high school and before college. You will maximize the benefit of going to college and take the full advantages of what college really has to offer.

Because of my Global Citizen Year, I am… living in the moment.

Ready to start your own adventure?

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The post Making the World My Classroom: An Interview with Ploy Kongkapetch appeared first on Global Citizen Year.

In Senegal, when one goes on a long journey, we say our goodbyes by shaking with our left hands. The deal is that some day we will see each other again, and upon reuniting we will embrace with a proper right-handed shake. I spent many months of the last few years in and out of Senegal. After eight months as a Global Citizen Year fellow, I returned for five months to my village as I worked on a grassroots economic empowerment initiative, and most recently, I was honored with a Davis Project for Peace to work for a month and a half. Through all of this, I have lived with the Ndiayes, a warm and lively Serer family who stay in an inviting yellow house, who welcomed eighteen year old me into their family with genuine patience and unique kindness.

Leaving the village is painful, always. It’s defeating to prepare for the loss of a world that you work so hard to create with people whose stories become irrelevant when your feet slam back to the race as a millennial American. As I leave, I wonder which memories will stick, I worry which Wolof words will fade, and I hope for more time in the village—torn eternally between the places I have found home. Every time I leave Senegal I try not to cry. I raise my left arm to shake my host father’s, an unnatural gesture that feels emblematic of how unnatural it will feel to leave a place that is so much a part of me.

I used to joke that the Wolof and Serer spoke harshly – inherently sarcastic, loud, and direct. My host father, Papa, used to say, “We laugh to survive. We tell stories to live.” Last February, I came to appreciate the ironic poetics of the language, through coping and understanding loss.

On a Sunday afternoon, I learned that Papa passed on:

“Ay, whay, Juliette, bul jooy. Ah Xale yi da jooy leegi

Wante ma ne bul joy, tey Papa demna ci naaj bi

Dinanu gisat Papa buy nu deme ensemble deggnga”

“Juliette, don’t cry, ah the kids cry too.

But I’m telling them not to—I told them that Papa went to the sun today,

I tell them not to cry because we’ll see him when we go to the sun some day soon.”

In ways that the English language just can’t sooth, my host sister’s Wolof felt sacred and rich. I guess the promise of that radiating warmth isn’t something that I possess in my metaphoric vocabulary of death.

The world feels still and silent in the moments that follow the news of loss.

Every thought is vivid,

Every breath is acute –

I imagined feeling his absence in that little yellow house. I pictured the family waiting up for him at night, as he didn’t return. I pictured the morning after, when Mama bought one less baguette for breakfast. I pictured his radio sitting unused, his closet untouched. I pictured the night he died and imagined my sisters—so strong, unable to speak and stand.

A photo of him now hangs above the window, with a prayer and an angel. It feels like a shrine, and I imagined how hard it was for Mama to hang it up, the defeat in accepting his loss. I imagined every change they made without him, and how unfaithful it felt— to live on— the simple things become testimony to the passing of time as he waits with the sun.

So much more powerful, though, than recognizing his loss, is his survivors’ relentless pursuit to keep him alive. One morning my little sister sat at the breakfast table and started to hold food next to Papa’s photo, feeding the smiling image of his mouth.

“Pa’s not dead. He’s eating breakfast here with me,” she laughed.

In Wolof she yelled, “Pa, wuyal!” “Pa, respond!”

And it’s haunting. Some nights feel excruciatingly similar to nights of the past. We would sit in front of the house and wait for him to come home. They still sit there, preserving the ritual of watching that gate, peaceful and knowing that they aren’t waiting for anything at all. And this is how they keep him alive.

I realize now that they keep us alive even when we aren’t dead. Last summer I noticed how Alice, a fellow who lived with my family the year after me, lived on. Despite her absence, she remained in our family’s home through the games that she taught the children, and the way my sisters mimicked her dance, through laughs as Mama recited stories of Alice’s year.

There are parts of us that they won’t let go, and they keep us there as we leave. I exist to them in the extensions of myself that I volunteer and in and ways that they create. I am perpetuated through fried Oreos, woogedy handshakes, and a burned CD. I remain in ways I didn’t know, as the kids draw on their fingers to replicate my finger tattoos, bringing innocence to part of me that I wished they hadn’t seen. I remain when they tell strangers the story of the day I brought home tapeworms, or when I “airplaned” a fully-grown Pular man. I exist when someone asks where I am, and they respond: “She’s in peace.”

I’m sad to know that I won’t wake up in that tiny yellow house for a long time. Until then, we will continue to last in different dimensions, embodying those who life feels painfully difficult without. And now, it’s a montage that runs through my mind of the past and present:

It’s Papa telling me how much he admires Barack Obama, with an excited brilliance

It’s a donkey ride with the boys of the house

It’s praying with the women in the dark and pure night

And Tonight, it’s going to the West Philadelphian Senegalese restaurant alone, to hear a familiar language, to be in peace, to remember those who wait in the sun

To keep them alive

The post Not a Requiem appeared first on Global Citizen Year.

Four years ago I was sitting in a modest workshop stringing tags onto ribbon. The shelves full of colorfully dyed seeds hid the dull cinderblock walls. The door rested open allowing the brisk evening air to enter, and orange light from the setting sun illuminated the mountainside. Around the table sat six artisans, working as a mini assembly line to piece together necklaces – some selected tagua pieces and laid out the design, the next drilled tiny holes in the marked spots, then came attaching the pieces and leather collar. I was the last step in the process, tying on a tag and packing the necklace into a plastic bag. This operation may seem small, and especially my role in it, but this simple assembly line was actually a part of a much grander operation.

As a Global Citizen Year fellow, I lived in the rural town of San Roque in the northern Andes of Ecuador for a year in between high school and college. My daily life there included waking up on a reed mat, throwing a cold bucket of water on my head, and heading out for work in the back of a pickup truck. My experiences from that year have stuck with me in many ways, whether it be the Facebook conversations I still have with my beautiful Kichwa family or the way I think about poverty and development initiatives in general, but today I’m writing about a very specific insight that has impacted the trajectory of my life. Four years ago in that small workshop, I learned that business could change people’s lives.

Before that experience, I knew that I wanted to work to make a positive impact in the world – this compelled me to join the Global Citizen Year cohort in the first place. But it wasn’t until my job with Faire Collection that I realized what a powerful tool business knowledge could be in improving people’s lives. This New York City based social enterprise is a fair trade accessory company, bringing the products of marginalized artisans to thousands of boutiques around the world. As an assistant production coordinator, I helped to manage the production schedule, monitor product quality, and got to know these artisans extremely well. For them, working with Faire Collection, and receiving dignified wages for their beautiful work, was truly life changing.

Those necklaces that I was helping to tag were one of our best sellers, in addition to being one of the most time consuming designs to create. That’s exactly why I was helping to tag them – we were up against an export schedule to get them to a client. After some conversations with artisans about designs like this, I started trying to develop a pricing model that would more accurately account for the specific amount of labor time required by each design. We were already paying much more than what an artisan would get in a local market, but was this really a fair price? We also knew that we were paying the lead artisans enough to substantially improve their well-being, but what about their assistants? How could we make sure they were paid fair salaries as well? And, how could we ensure that we paid adequately for labor hours while remaining profitable? As I struggled to figure out the best way to do this, I realized that in order to truly help these artisans, I needed more than a passion for or understanding of social causes. I needed the business knowledge and skills that would enable me to meet this challenge, as well as many others. That realization followed me all the way to my freshman year at the University of Denver, where I immediately switched into the business school, eager to develop those skills that I found could truly make an impact.

Since then, social enterprise has become somewhat of a buzzword, and it gets thrown around in relation to a number of things, whether merited or not. At its core social enterprise is about using the power of business to bring about social and environmental change. The concern for impact is not a nice “corporate social responsibility” sideshow; it is the core of operations. It differs from a non-profit in that the business operations (rather than donations or grants) are able to create financial sustainability and growth.

To me, the true power of social enterprise is its consideration of every single person as a client. The common term used in the philanthropic world for the people groups are working with is beneficiary – literally meaning that whatever they are receiving is “bene” or good.

When working with vulnerable populations, it is often assumed that anything we are doing to help is better than what they already have – and I think it’s fair to say that this is not always the case. And while business strive to provide clients with “bene”, it is not automatically assumed. This is the difference in considering people clients rather than beneficiaries. Businesses constantly look for feedback and metrics that they are providing clients with products and services that are truly good, not just good enough. If you think about Business 101, a business model starts something like this: listen to people, identify a market need, and develop a business that meets this need. But for some reason this trajectory can get lost when we consider meeting the needs of some of the most vulnerable populations.

Right now I am working with a Mexico City based start-up, Vitaluz, that is working to bring solar power to the 2.2 million people in the country with no access to electricity. Currently, these families must resort to using alternatives that are harmful to their health and the environment such as candles, kerosene lamps or diesel generators. The most ironic and unjust part is that these alternatives are also the most expensive and inefficient lighting and electricity methods that exist. Using a social enterprise model has allowed Vitaluz to install and maintain solar systems with no upfront cost to the user as well as employ members of the community. Their social impact can already be seen in their 272 active users, who, on average, these save around $400pesos/month and reduce carbon emissions by 401kg/month. Vitaluz is currently working to scale their operations and become fully financially sustainable – so that this social impact can become sustainable as well.

Last year I graduated with a BS in International Business, and I’m currently pursuing my MBA. While many of my business classmates have very different goals, I am still inspired by the idea that I can use my education in a way to create positive impact. (And I challenge my fellow classmates to think of business in this way as well whenever I can!) If I didn’t believe that that this was possible, I would drop out of business school today. But from a workshop in Ecuador, to a rooftop in Mexico, and everywhere in between, evidence of the power of business models that truly create impact motivates me to continue.

Hannah is from from Dallas, Texas and recently graduated from the University of Denver with a BSBA in International Business followed-up with a minor in Leadership Studies. She is currently pursuing an MBA with a concentration in Sustainability Studies. Hannah hopes to work in the non-profit industry or social sector to further sustainability and community development efforts. She is an avid traveler, outdoor adventurist, ferocious foodie, and, above all, a people person that wants to share her passions with others.

The post The Power of Social Enterprise appeared first on Global Citizen Year.

August 29, 2016. Today is my first day of college classes.

On August 29, 2015, I arrived in India.

Yesterday I received my Global Citizen Year backpack. Inside there was a certificate of completion and a letter I had written to myself one year ago:

“Right now you are at college or getting ready to go. Maybe I will be excited, but right now I’m not. But, I suspect the feelings I have right now are pretty damn similar to what I’ll be feeling a year from now.”

I was wrong about how I would feel about college. As I get ready to head off to Math 121, I feel so ready. My head is in this, I feel grounded and prepared and excited. I underestimated how much my experience in India would prepare me for college. When I left for my Global Citizen Year, I thought it was just a detour, a delay between high school and college. But it truly was a bridge year. I look around at my peers, who, although they are trying to project confidence, truly seem weary about leaping over this gap between high school and college. Some people can jump that hurdle in stride, but knowing how I felt about college a year ago, I know that I would not have been able to handle it. Because of the tumultuous transition I went through going to India and then coming home, I understand myself so much better: what I need, what I like, who I am, and who I am becoming. I don’t claim to know any of the answers or have a clear path in mind, but I feel so prepared to discover them.

Now, I’m definitely a little nervous to start college. Academics is my biggest worry, considering I haven’t been in a classroom in over a year. But I know that with a little extra work, I will be able to adjust right back into the material. I was also worried about being older and possibly more mature than my peers. However, I have found people who surprise me with their intelligence and thoughtfulness. People are curious to hear about India, not alienated by it.

Global Citizen Year has a set of core values that all fellows develop during their bridge year: Well-Being, Diversity, Accountability, Gratitude, Curiosity Before Judgment, and Empathy. All of these values are equally accountable in a fellow’s host country as back home, in college, or in any new environment. I’m so excited to expand my understanding and push my thinking about what it means to be a responsible global citizen. I have a basis of experiential knowledge about what the impacts of global thinking are, but I lack the academic and intellectual evidence to back it up. This idea is daunting, and I have definitely felt disquieted when information contradicting my current views is presented to me. But if I learned anything this year, it is that all learning happens in the stretch zone, and only by pushing myself to ask questions and learn from the discomfort will I truly grow as a college student and as a person.

Add: As I see this year’s cohort go off to their countries, part of me wishes I was with them. In hindsight, I have regrets, I wish I had done some things differently, and I want to continue to grow and understand India more. But I need to move on, to embrace college. Life will afford me countless opportunities, hopefully abroad and domestic, and it’s important for me to know when it’s time to let go and give others a chance to change their lives.

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