Beginning of Writing from Semester at Sea

Carolyn Weber - 8.27.09
Haberman International Policy Institute on Education
Senior International Correspondent

It’s been four months since Semester at Sea, and the culture shock still hits me now and then.  It returns when I see the piles of clothing and accessories in my 17-year-old sister’s room; when I methodically work through my schedule during the day eat dinner on-the-run at night; and when I see the culture of fear, ignorance, and ethnocentrism that dominates many Americans’ world views.  I’m re-examining my experience now for personal closure and to publicly address what I found to be my most important lesson on Semester at Sea.

In past articles for the Haberman Policy Institute, I reflected on the role of foreign aid to education in the Middle East and the balance between modernism and fundamentalism in the region.  I interviewed teachers and students around the world and compared their educational systems: noticing similarities across socio-economic classes and urban-rural divides, along with a large emphasis on high stakes testing.  Until now, I had not identified my biggest lesson-- one more general than previous observations.  The biggest lesson that I learned on Semester at Sea was about respect.  The following is a journal entry embodies this idea:

It’s a liberating experience not to shrink from mankind. I’m seeing poverty in a different way that I’ve seen it before. I’m seeing the humanity in it, which is easier in countries where gun violence is not a problem and the cities are centers of humanity rather than crime and pain. Clothing is worn for function, not fashion. Pants and shirts clash; they are dirty or small; they are sweaty or rolled up; they are mere afterthoughts for the body and soul inside. The same goes for shoes. Some people wear them, but many of the shoes are old and falling apart. The feet inside are calloused and tanned, the nails are rounded and thick; the feet have an animal quality to them, which cannot be civilized by a piece of protective skin. These feet are ugly, but that makes them more beautiful. They drive tuck tucks in Chennai and sink into wet mud in the village Erode. They grip weathered wood on boats in the Mekong Delta and chase tourist buses in South African townships. They are more natural than soft, pink feet with painted nails. The clothing and shoes here do not change the person, just as the people and their civilizations did not change the land in countries like Morocco and Namibia. I like when humans and nature can maintain their integrity in relation to superficial or invasive things (clothing and humans, respectively).

The houses we have seen are not bunkers like mine. They let the heat and humidity through the windows and the rain in through cracks in the roof. They are small and pieced together by colorful pieces of metal and wood. Some of them—in the South African townships, in poor areas of Chennai, and on the riverside in Vietnam—look as though they will collapse with one puff of wind. They do not cover or hide the people. The people are outside—tending the clothesline or cooking food, washing things in a bucket or holding a child. There is more transparency here—the same as with the clothes. The people seem stronger because they don’t hide behind thick walls. They seem happier because the community is closer knit and everyone raises every child. I don’t mean to romanticize poverty. These peoples’ lives are hard—filled with hunger, drugs, violence, and disease. I do not want to have their lives—or to live in their homes—but I respect them, and theirs is not an inherently doomed or sad way of life. I’ve seen their faces fill with joy, and I have seen human strength.

Interestingly enough, my final thoughts for an institute on international education are not about international education, per say.  Instead, they are about my personal education in an international context.  As I see it, we can study schools around the world, provide aid and stipulations, and impose our cultures and ideals.  Or, we could have more open minds.  What if indigenous education, passed from parent to child, was not considered backwards?  What if money was not the only definition of success?  The biggest thing that I can advocate after my experience abroad is to educate yourself.   Learn about other cultures and put yourself in another’s shoes.  Ours is not the only recipe for a fulfilling life.  In fact, many of the happiest people I met had the fewest material things.  Sometime down the road, we may not live in a global society.  The limits of fossil fuels may greatly reduce our ability to travel, and localization may become the new trend.  Do we want to leave the developing world to deal with the effects of our cultural meddling?  We already see the effects of this in post-colonial Africa.  Instead, let us move into a new age of local activism and global respect, and let people live and educate their children as they please.

We appreciate the brilliant testimony of our Haberman International Policy Institute in Education, HIPIE.ORG writer, Carolyn Weber. We believe she has a marvelous future ahead and we appreciate her willingness to share with us her Semester At Sea.

….Delia Stafford
President and CEO
http://www.hipie.org
http://www.habermanfoundation.org