Speaking of fear… I’ve been given my own opportunity to work through some. As some of you know, I teach a class on South African history at University of the Arts, which I really enjoy. The course uses the art, music, and literature of South Africa to study the apartheid era. This is the fifth time I’m teaching it, and the student response has been positive. For some students, the course has been transformative. For me, it has been a way to teach ideas I care about while staying connected to the younger me who was in the Peace Corps in Botswana in the 1980s. I’ve been longing to go back to Southern Africa some time, and though the cost has always seemed prohibitive, teaching this course keeps me feeling somewhat connected.
A few weeks ago, the head of Liberal Arts asked if I would be interested in leading a group of students on a two-week study/trip to South Africa next January. My first reaction was that I’d love to, if I didn’t have kids. He said, “You have a husband don’t you?” It turns out my husband is very supportive, especially since the trip would occur while our kids were in school, so I’ve been seriously thinking about it, swinging from wildly excited about the idea, to just a bit freaked out. Here are a few of the questions that are arising:
How many college students could I handle as a lone adult in a very different country with a high crime rate?
Could I arrange for another teacher to come with me?
Is it OK to leave my children (ages 10 and 13) for that long?
Knowing that they have a very competent father, why does the thought of going make me feel like a selfish mother?
What if an asteroid hits Three Mile Island while I’m gone, and I can’t reach my family?
What if a UArts student gets hit by a car or arrested for drug use, and I don’t have another teacher to back me up?
What if I’m not as brave as when I was 22 and hitchhiked from Lesotho to Botswana?
And then on the positive side:
Could I arrange a trip that would give the students real engagement with another culture and with inequality, without having us seem like tourists on safari?
Could I arrange a way for the students to share their artistic abilities in schools in South Africa, which might be a particularly meaningful form of service for them?
Could I go in 2011 and then bring my family with me the following year?
I’ve thought about bringing my family to Botswana and then writing a book about the experience, contrasting the country today with the one I lived in pre-AIDS. Although the kids are not enthused, it turns out that the hospice my husband works for has an exchange program in Botswana, which seems so serendipitous that it must be some kind of sign, although it hasn’t yet seemed rightly ordered to pursue that. Perhaps this trip is some kind of preparation for that later, longer excursion?
The biggest question, from a Quaker viewpoint, is, “Am I led to do this?” I’ve wanted to go back to Southern Africa for many years, and here way is opening for me to do so. Does that necessarily mean that this is the way to go? That’s where sorting through my fears gets important. I don’t yet have clarity about whether my fears are signs that I shouldn’t do it or just things to be worked through. As usual, writing is a way for me to process. So is waiting, so I’m going to work on something else this week and see which feelings last.
Eileen, this sounds like an exciting opportunity for you! What steps can you take to move forward and explore the possibility, while being mindful of the degree of support you’ll need and the importance of the timing being right?
I *love* how you have described Quaker discernment 🙂 For me, writing is also how I process whether something is a Leading. Only in the silence, am I able to hear the still small voice of which Way.
~Blessings~
In the Light,
Sharon
It’s funny, Eileen, but not surprising at all (because I see "me" in "you"!), that you are able to outline what the trip would do for your students, but you haven’t outlined what it would mean for you. You state that you have wanted to go back for a long time. I’m asking myself – why? What is it that you would want to gain from the trip, what are you looking for, what are your expectations? Is it further connection? Affirmation of the work you have done in Africa? Maybe discerning your motivations would help identify whether the trip would be fulfilling for you.
I love your fear about Three Mile Island. You sound like me! Our family calls it "Korostoffian Crisis Complex" and it can be debilitating at times. A fear that would arise for me is: How would the trip compare to the deep experience that I had previously? Could it affect or reshape the memories I have from the Peace Corps and redefine my relationship with Africa?
All this may be moot – you’ve probably already made your decision. I’m curious about that.
I have decided not to go, for a number of reasons. Although I didn’t see Heather’s comment until right now, I think her questions were good. I do want to see the places in South Africa that I have been teaching about for the past five years, but even more I want to go to Botswana, which I wouldn’t be able to do on this trip. I also want to bring my family, which seemed unrealistic while I was leading a group of college students. The two biggest reasons, though: 1) I just didn’t feel led to do it; and 2) it felt like it would pull my energy away from the things I do feel led to do. In the end, I think I let go of the anxieties, but I still didn’t feel it was right to go.
So, thanks for everyone’s thoughts. More practice with that inner listening stuff.