My high school has a program where if
you are interested, you can obtain an exchange student from Madrid, Spain. I
believed that this was an amazing experience, so I applied. After receiving
multiple teacher recommendations, as well as writing numerous essays, I was
finally accepted into the program. Junior year came around, and on August 23 my
exchange student Olga had arrived from Madrid, Spain. Right away, my family and
I made her feel like she was it home, as her family was literally across the
world. When Olga and I first started talking, we hit it off. I felt like I had
known her forever when I had only known her from Facebook. This shows how
people from other sides of the world really can connect. Before the
students had arrived, my professor told me that most of the students knew as
much English as we knew Spanish, which meant that they did not know a lot of English.
However, that was not the case with Olga. Olga knew a lot of English, which was
amazing because she was able to communicate with the rest of my family who
spoke little to no Spanish. There were some times where Olga got the wrong idea
of what I was saying or didn't understand completely, because sometimes in Spain,
they taught her different words for a translation from Spanish. We took Olga to
all different places to show her what American culture was really like. We took
her to see the liberty bell and all of the tourist attractions in Philadelphia,
as well as to New York City, which she fell in love with. I was able to meet
new kids from my high school that I did not know existed, as they were not in
my group of friends, classes or grades. After three weeks had passed Olga left.
The New Year came along and I was off
to Madrid, Spain to live with Olga’s family for three weeks. I realized that Olga
must have been ten times nervous than I had been because she had no idea who I
really was. I had known Olga, so I was not nervous to see her, but I was
excited. After being on the plane for eight hours, I had finally arrived
in Madrid, Spain. Right when I stepped off the plane, everything was different.
In Spain, they only drive stick shift, which I had never been in before, so I
was very nervous and nauseous driving home from the airport. Then, I went to
where Olga lives, which is an apartment. This is another difference, in Spain
people usually only live in flats or apartments, it is very rare for someone to
live in a house. Olga's family besides her older sister who had also
participated in the program, did not speak English at all. I was in for a shock
there. It was very difficult to communicate with her parents. Her mom and dad
would ask me questions in Spanish such as " what’s up,” or " how are
you." and I would freeze. After a couple days of living in the house and
getting more comfortable I was finally able to communicate with her parents.
However, it is not just talking Spanish to them, there accents are so strong so
sometimes it would even be hard to hear what they had to say. In Spain, the
students walk everywhere. I get tired easily so I remember I was complaining
over and over again in my head. Everything is so far, yet they love walking so
they do it with their friends. It is basically safe to walk everywhere. They
don't have as much public transportation as we do, and no students have their
own car. It made me realize how fortunate I was that I had my own car at home.
Everyone on the streets in Spain was so friendly. If someone didn't know me as I
was walking with Olga, they would come up to me and start to ask me questions.
I know that in my town if someone was walking with me that didn't look familiar,
many people would not care to come up to me. I learned so much in Spain about
their culture. It is so amazing to see the differences between two countries.
This is an experience that is hard to put into words. I was able to bond with
people I never thought I would be friends with, and was able to be introduced
to a whole new side of the world.
I sometimes find it ironic that I want to become a Journalist, yet I hate public speaking. It’s not the speaking that I dislike, but the unwavering attention of an audience that makes me freeze up. I hate walking into class late. I hate having to perform onstage. I hate any activity in which I worry that I am being judged. The only thing I hate more than public speaking, however, is being afraid of something. Refusing to allow my apprehension to get the best of me, I joined my high school’s competitive Slam Poetry Team last year.
ReplyDeleteAs I mentioned before, I don’t mind the speaking aspect of public speaking. As long as I can remember I’ve loved words. I’m known for being very talkative, knowing plenty of big words and being able to memorize countless song lyrics. Most importantly, though, I’m known for my skill and love for writing. I’ve been writing poetry since fifth grade and it has always been a creative outlet for me. In middle school, my teachers always praised my creative writing skill and friends would ask me to write poems for any and every occasion. I loved letting others read my work, but I could never muster up the courage to perform it.
During my senior year of high school, my best friend created the Competitive Slam Poetry team and urged me to join. The team would work all year, writing and critiquing one another’s poetry leading up to the competition: Louder Than A Bomb in May. During the competition, schools would send their best writers to perform their poetry onstage and be ranked by judges and an audience of several hundred people. I hesitantly joined the club and began the long process of overcoming my fear. Countless times, I stood in front of my classmates and read to them, but the result was always the same: my hands shook, my voice wavered, I talked too quickly and I couldn’t look my audience in the eye. I began to get discouraged, thinking I would never be comfortable sharing my feelings in front of a crowd.
A few weeks before the competition, I suddenly had a revelation and wrote the best poem I had ever written. Instead of focusing on my own feelings or emotions, I wrote a heavy piece about gun violence in Prince George’s County. I had never been so deeply saddened or impassioned until I heard the stories of the six children who had been murdered in my home county. Through my anger and frustration I wrote my poem titled “The Devil’s Favorite Number”, questioning the senselessness of killing and called for people to stand against gun violence. For the first time, I believed my words could make a difference in the world. When I performed the Devil’s Favorite Number I wasn’t anxious, I wasn’t worried about whether people would judge my voice or my writing. My only concern was making known the stories of the children who had died.
I performed The Devil’s Favorite number to an audience of around 200 people on Sunday, May 4, 2013. I learned that day that by focusing on issues that truly mattered to me, I could control my nervousness. I realized that the words I spoke were not about me, but were for the benefit of my community. I couldn’t be nervous because I had a job to do; there were people who needed their stories told and it was my job to tell them. I know now that I can be a great journalist if I remove myself from the equation and dedicate my time and talent to educating the world and speaking for people who do not have a voice. My poem received 10s from numerous judges and a standing ovation from the audience. Most importantly though, my poem taught me to be selfless in my writing and let the words speak for themselves.