04.16.10
Posted in AV 2009-10 Domestic at 8:28 pm by Natalie Jones
In 2005, the New York Times declared the Bronx the poorest urban county in the country, with almost 50% of South Bronx residents living below the poverty line. Accordingly, the lives of many Bronx residents are not easy; however, one might not think this to be the case when observing the attitudes of the people. For, while run-down buildings and littered sidewalks hint at the county’s underlying destitution, its people remain spirited and lively, playing loud music out their windows, lounging and laughing with each other outside, and, of course, dancing whenever the opportunity presents itself. That is where I have seen God at work the most in my AV experience so far: in the spirit, faith, and hope of the Bronx people.
About a month ago, our church, St. Nicholas of Tolentine, was set on fire. Thankfully, nobody was hurt; yet, the same could not be said for church itself, whose vestibule was destroyed, doors burned, and wiring affected. Both parishioners and pastor of “The Cathedral of the Bronx” were left disheartened, though not for long. Soon after, a group of parishioners vowed to hold an outside “Stations of the Cross” ceremony that had been planned for that evening.
Newsflash to the culprit of the fire: It is going to take more than a few flames to shake the faith of this community. You may have damaged the physical church, but the most important part – the people – is still around and planning to attend mass in St. Nick’s Elementary School’s gym until the church building is restored. Faith really does play a vital role here in the Bronx. Poor residents are faced with daily hardships and anxieties; yet, at the end of the day, they still trust in their God – a God who offers them comfort and the opportunity for them to grow closer to Him during difficult times. Their fortitude truly inspires me.
I witness God at work in the residents of Siena House (the homeless shelter for pregnant women and children under three years old where I volunteer) as well, who, despite their oftentimes unfortunate circumstances, preserve a hope for the future that keeps them going. Not to say that the women do not at times feel overwhelmed or downcast – those are only natural feelings to have when raising a baby on your own, meanwhile trying to find both affordable housing and a job in today’s economy that will allow for you to move into your own place so as to escape the curfew and communal bathrooms of a shelter – but it is never long after they express their troubles to me that it seems their mood changes. All it takes is a glance down at their child, or swollen belly for some, and they are reminded of the reason they need to stay strong and persistent: the sake of their baby’s future. “All I can do is pray,” voiced one of the women to me. It is God who gives them such strength and radiant hope, for He promised never to give us more than we can bear.
God’s work is also visible within our 4-person community (temporary residents of the Bronx) in the way that God has helped me and my roommates discover more about ourselves and each other through celebrating our differences and forming supportive relationships with one another. Moreover, I have become aware of how God acts through each of us as we serve at our respective work sites, which increases our sense of duty toward those we serve, though at the same time also reminds us how God may be working through others to reach us.
The faith and resilience of the Bronx people, for example, has inspired me to further strengthen my relationship with God and those around me, and has reminded me to see life’s challenges as gifts to grow in Christ. For, as those from the Bronx know, even in the darkest darkness of winter, there will always remain hope for spring.
Natalie Jones
Bronx, NY
2009-2010
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Posted in AV 2009-10 Domestic at 4:59 pm by emily.trancik
What I appreciate the most about being the Campus Minister at St. Augustine High School is that I have the opportunity to affect 700 young men who are at a very impressionable point in their lives. The students at SAINTS all have the potential to mature into men committed to their Christian faith and to using the gifts they have cultivated at SAINTS to turn around and give back to their communities in service. The greatest joy in my work this year as a volunteer has been having the chance to help inspire the realization of their potential - and for some of them - witnessing times when they surprise themselves by their abilities and truly believe in themselves.
“Mass Band” is simultaneously my most taxing responsibility and most rewarding. The group plays at weekly Mass, but we have very limited practice time. We’re not always my idea of prepared at 8AM on Wednesday mornings when the liturgy starts, but it always seems to work out and the students succeed amazingly, whether they think they can or not. I watch students become confident in their ability as musicians as they play beautiful guitar solos, and volunteer to sing the psalm by themselves. Being present for these moments is such a joy for me.
Kairos retreats are our office’s biggest project of the year. They require quite a bit of work from a faculty planning perspective, but they really happen because of the six student leaders on each retreat. Each leader gives a long talk that requires them to think critically about themselves and their struggles. One of my jobs is to start with the leaders at the beginning of their talk writing process and to work with them as they develop their stories and the message of their talk. It takes a lot of courage to give a talk on Kairos, so when it finally comes to the point when they’re dressed up on the retreats speaking to their peers, I’m always really proud of them for their accomplishment.
In addition to my work at Saints, I tutor at St. Patrick’s School, where Katie and Anne teach P.E. One of my students is a 2nd grader who I’ve been working with since September. All year he’s struggled with focus, and tutoring requires focus. He does not like tutoring. When we go to find him to start the session, he pretends to be either a 1st or 3rd grader of a similar, rhyming name. It’s hysterical and we love it, but when it comes down to it, it’s really important that somehow he learns how to draw in his attention. I decided to try letting him play “Lost in Migration”, an educational computer game that could help improve his attention skills. It gives him something to look forward to at the end of alphabetizing spelling words and writing them over and over. The game is simply five birds in formation in the air facing one direction, except sometimes the middle bird is flying an opposite way. The point of the game is to hit the arrow key to match the direction of the middle bird. He got really into it and I was just about as excited as he was when he scored 740 first and then 920 on his second try. He’s up in the 1200s now, and the pride and joy he takes from succeeding and breaking records is definitely shared with me.
In my jobs this year, I have the chance to see my students excel quite often and I feel really lucky that I get to be a part of those moments, and even sometimes a factor in their achievements. I’ll miss being a part of their lives at the end of the year, but hopefully the faith I have in them will resonate and transform to strengthen their belief in themselves, and they will continue to have moments of self-actualization and accomplishment.
Emily Trancik
San Diego 2009-2010
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04.03.10
Posted in AV 2010 International at 2:51 am by Sinead Cloughley
It’s another Tuesday at St. Leo’s Primary, and I’m seriously dragging. The photocopier is out of toner again, which means the vocabulary test that we’d planned for Grade 5 has to be a bit more off the cuff than I’d anticipated—but that’s the nature of teaching in this school. This is a place where almost seven hundred learners have been admitted to the school, despite lack of space and individual attention; a place where pencils are in such short supply that they have to be labelled with names to keep them from going missing; a place where teachers engaging their students in the classroom is the exception, and not the rule.
But St. Leo’s is also a place where the library is one of the most valued spots in the school; where the enrollment is so high that the administration can’t keep up, just because parents want their children to learn English with Americans; a place where the sound of young voices singing can make even the most miserable Monday mornings worth it. In a country where the population has big dreams and very little follow-through, the children at St. Leo’s are an example of the hope I’ve come to look for with each day that passes here in South Africa.
Break at St. Leo’s comes early– at ten o’clock in the morning, I’m not hungry and not ready to interrupt the day just yet. On this particular Tuesday, the four classes that follow break are even more of a struggle than the two I had this morning. We attempt to review some lessons from the previous weeks after the test is finished and graded, but the learners are lethargic and I’m losing my patience. I can only repeat myself so many times—a mystery is “a puzzle without an answer”, and “a chance to do something” is an opportunity, not often. And then, just when I’m about to resort to reading them a story instead, the bells from the church next door ring to signal midday, and the sixteen Grade 5 students in front of me stand up, fold their hands, close their eyes, and bow their heads. They begin to pray.
Yethi Maria, ogcwele igrasiya, iNkosi inawe, ubusisiwe wena esifazaneni, ibusisiwe nenzalo yesisu sakho uJesu. Maria ocwebileyo, Nina kaNkulunkulu, mawusikhulekele thina zoni, manje nasesikhathini sokufa kewthu. Amen.
As the words rise to Mary who hears and understands, whether in English or in Zulu, I close my eyes and lean against the bookshelf near my desk, reflecting on the day so far and silently asking God to help me through the rest. I open my eyes again and look around the room, at the boys and girls in front of me, praying fervently in the midst of the schoolday. My heart is filled with so much love.
This is the type of encounter with God I have come to know and appreciate during my time as an AV in South Africa—the prayers that offer me respite from the noise of language barriers, racial identity, and poverty.
Though I’m a teacher, I’ve learned from these students; learned that prayer has to be an integral part of every day, even if it is just a few Hail Marys quickly spoken during a vocabulary review, or hymns sung during assembly as the sun rises over the valley. The Zulus’ prayer life is one without expectations or judgment, where I can participate in a Zulu teachers’ prayer meeting in English and no one minds. The devotion to everyday spirituality that I’ve witnessed here in South Africa is inspiring, especially when the living conditions of some should adversely affect their wellbeing. But it is these simple daily encounters with a very present God that give South Africans the hope they need to push onwards. This entire year is my classroom, and the people with whom I spend my days are my teachers, gently guiding me towards the presence of God.
Sinéad Cloughley
South Africa 2010
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