How many times have you walked by this wall and never read it?

How many times have you heard about the water crisis, thought, "How sad"?

Hannah

Yesterday I met Hannah. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I think she could tell from my constant fidgeting. I was nervous for a few different reasons:

1. I was meeting someone new for the first time. 

2. I didn't want to say something rude or insulting without realizing it. 

3. The coordinator had told me that she changed her name is Hannah instead of Hanan because she realized that many Americans could not properly pronounce her name (see number 2 for insulting...)

While I was nervous, I was beyond excited at the same time! My family hosted a number of exchange students throughout my middle and high school days. I love being able to share our culture with people who are eager to experience it, and I love to learn about others' cultures and how they differ from our own. Over the years we have welcomed students from Spain, Italy, France, South Africa, to name a few into our home. Some of these students we still keep in touch with and have gone to visit! It is such a unique and rewarding experience learning about different aspects of our world.

I had never gotten the chance to become friends with anyone who is visiting from Saudi Arabia. We met in Union Grounds after her Friday classes. She wore long pants, long sleeves, and a head covering. Timidly, we began our conversations about our family. 

Hannah told me that she is here in Texas with her older brother. She added that she has three little sisters at home too- 5, 7, and 9. When I asked for pictures, her face lit up and I got to see about a dozen pictures of these adorable little kids! She later explained that her dad is a pharmacist and her mom just stays at home. When I commented on being busy with three little girls she rolled her eyes and said, "She has two nannies for them." I couldn't help but smile. 

Hannah is at TCU majoring in Petroleum studies. She is the first in her family to do so, and she was only allowed to come to Texas to study because her brother is here too. She said that her brother is majoring in Chemistry to hopefully become a pharmacist like her father.

While she spoke, I sometimes forgot that English was her second language. She understood almost 100% of what I said and I could understand almost everything she said. I was shocked when she mentioned that her English was not very good, "My English is not very good so sometimes classes are difficult. My brother's English is very good though!" On her terms, I can't imagine what he speaks like. 

I was surprised when Hannah mentioned that people talk about her in class. She kept saying, "but it makes me stronger." It took me a second to comprehend truly what she was saying. Even in 2014, college students whisper about people who don't look like them? To me, that is amazing and appalling. She said that nobody but her friends that are also from Saudi Arabia really talk to her at all.  I couldn't dismiss this fact when she mentioned later that she might want to transfer. 

A few other things that stood out to me from our conversation were her answers to these questions: 

"Have you tried American food?"--- What even is American food? You do not have authentic food. American food is just fast food, so no, I have not eaten it. 

Her answer seemed harsh at first but then it seemed just. She continued with asking if I have ever tried Saudi Arabian food to which I answered no. We have plans to go to an authentic lunch on Monday so I can experience her culture a little more. She continued by mentioning (more than once) that I should come over to her apartment so that she can cook for me. 

"When is good to meet for you, Hannah?" --- Fridays are not good because that is the day that my brother and I spend together. Saturdays and Sundays I usually spend the day cleaning and cooking and studying. She went on to ask what I like to do and about my schedule, to which I answered, I like to stay busy. She replied with, "yes, I have discovered this about Americans." 

I can't remember exactly how this came up, but she said, "When I came here I expected everyone to look like the model and actresses in movies but this is not true!" 

The last thing that I would like to make a note of was her comment about school. She says that school here is very hard. I can imagine with her class load and constantly having to translate things, but she went on to explain that classes in her hometown would be about 6 people and that school was very laid back. You could come and go as you would like. Here, on the other hand, she said, "You have to be on time!" sounding surprised. She went on to tell me how cheating is not a very big problem where she is from. 

After an hour together, I am beyond excited for our next meeting! Hannah opened my eyes to a new way of seeing TCU, the United States, and the world. I have had such an amazing time getting to know her, I can't wait to see what the future holds. 

Huck From a New Angle

As I read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, I found myself constantly having to remember that these elaborate, and sometimes dangerous, adventures were all occurring to a 12-year-old boy! Twelve seems way too young for me. As I read and began shaping pictures of the events transpiring in my head I continued to see maybe a “boy” my age or maybe a year or two younger, but again and again I had to remind myself that no, Huck was only twelve.

            This got me thinking. Twelve years old is so young. I nanny two kids and the boy is twelve and in seventh grade. He is mid-growth spurt, just got braces, and shuffles instead of walking because his body hasn’t quite caught up with his feet. This is the age that Huck Finn is supposed to be? I find that very hard to believe. The boy I nanny has to be reminded to take a shower each night; I can’t imagine him trying to feed himself, and yet here Huck is feeding himself, living by himself, surviving by himself. He is completely independent and happy about it. I understand that 2014 is much different than the 1884, when the book was first published, but twelve is twelve.

            With this notion, my thoughts turned towards my Child and Adolescent Development class I am required to take as an education major. Is this novel an accurate depiction of a twelve year old? Since school started, we have been working on studying what affects a child’s development and hence their life. This age range is known as Early Adolescence. Their cognitive development consists of an “emerging capacity to think and reason about abstract ideas.” Huck most definitely falls into these guidelines. He has the ability to think on his feet illustrated by his quick and witty comebacks and answers to people’s questions of his journey and Jim’s freedom. Even I, as a 19 year old would not have been able to come up with responses to questions asking about his made-up pasts and about Jim’s motives for appearing to run away. Although, I think where the reader sees this most is the idea of his conscious. Huck knows that is thought of as right as wrong but he challenges it because maybe it is not really right and wrong. This is the biggest abstract concept that Huck faces and this is where I struggled with imagining such a young boy. The idea of a person’s conscious is not something every twelve-year-old thinks about. The boy that I nanny would never bring up such a topic; this is why I began thinking of Huck during my child development class to determine if Huck’s mannerisms truly are possible to be those of a twelve-year-old. 

            In my child and adolescent development class we also discussed that early adolescents’ social-emotional development consists of “continued (and perhaps greater) interest in peer relationships; self-consciousness about appearance; challenges to parents, teachers, and other authorities regarding rules and boundaries.” Because of this age range’s tendency to want to develop peer relationships, I wonder why Huck never felt this way. For kids this age, friendships are usually a priority. Huck never thinks twice about leaving any relationship. He has no trouble leaving Tom Sawyer; he never gets fazed when he thinks he has lost Jim forever; and he doesn’t think twice about leaving the Grangerford’s. At the conclusion of the novel, when Tom and Huck are reunited, Huck’s actions do seem to change ever so slightly to act more like Tom, in a more childish demeanor. Along the same lines, Huck never appears to be self-conscious of the way he looks. Like most boys this age, Huck does not really care what he wears as long as he is comfortable. As far as challenging authorities regarding boundaries- well this is a definition of Huckleberry Finn.  

            I love to think about how my different academic classes overlap. Many of them are very different genres and cover opposite topics but somehow have many things in common. Things like this remind me of the importance of collaboration between multiple fields of work.  

First River Reflection:

I took a deep breath and sat on the weathered wooden park bench. Sweat dripped down my back as a result to the 97-degree heat. I was so glad to have made it to the shade and finally sitting down.

            A refreshing breeze blew my bangs infront of my eyes. I smiled and leaned back to enjoy my view. Staring at the river, it calmly flowed towards my left as a beautiful white bird perched elegantly on, what seemed to be, a sand dune. It looked so serene and I wondered how it was not uncomfortably hot, but suddenly it jolted up and flew a feet away submerging its body into the cool water. It looked refreshed. From then on, the bird never stopped moving-swimming, flying, fishing.

            My attention shifted as a biker flew in front of me. She gave a quick “hey” without turning her helmeted head. She was dressed in typical “biker” clothing- fitted hot pink shirt and black biking shorts. She looked like a professional. That is until I saw what was attached to the back of her thin tires—a baby trailer. A baby trailer filled with two fluffy white dogs. Happiest dogs I have ever seen. Sitting in the shade, wind in their hair. They definitely turned and smiled at me.

            A dragonfly that was about the size of my palm flew a few feet in front of my face then it made its way over the curved sidewalk and to its way to the river. The initial buzzing sound always makes me jump in fear for my life. To me, bugs should never get that big.

            Trees lined both sides of the river. One side provided me much needed shade and the other a dark green curtain. The trees seemed to dance together as one with the wind as the choreographer, but there was one small break. One tree stood limp with no leaves. Because of the break in the leaves, a small sliver of life past the sheet of green could be spotted. I squinted and noticed that behind the big beautiful trees laid a perfectly manicured green of golf. Then I suddenly saw a golf cart park right in my view and two young men got out and began putting. I heard a soft “swoosh” off in the distance.

            The rhythmic army-green water recaptured my attention. It made me think back to my days of elementary dance class. Every week we would focus on an object and how it moved. One week was water and we explored moving our bodies as water along with a huge piece of blue fabric. We made ripples just like the river in front of me, but this river had more ridges from the opposing wind force. It made for a beautiful contrast. Then I spotted a turtle. It was about the size of our classroom clock. It dipped up and down in the water but never side-to-side so the current swept it along with a few straight lines of yellow pollen. It almost looked like a conveyer belt: the trees stayed still but the water, never changing in appearance, simply moved at a constant speed.

I shifted my view to my right. The acorn-stained pavement twisted and wound to the end of my sight. A man-made dam congested the smooth-flowing river. The path continued to a bridge sat in the distance with cars zooming over it constantly. I could see them but not hear them. Instead, I heard a train run behind me.

By this time, I had caught my breath. The air did not feel as hot to me; instead, it seemed to be a warm day with a cool breeze. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of mossy water filled my nose. I opened my eyes and stared again at the murky water. I could see the reflections of the big trees clear as day.

Two more friendly bikers passed and chirped a friendly hello.

I then spotted a mom and baby turtle swimming right at the surface of the water. The mom led slowly as the baby bobbed up and down following the trail of its mother. With that, a small smile formed on my face and I was about ready to leave.