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Just a bit longer…
Clothes: check.
Toothbrush: check.
Teaching supplies: check.
Books to read: check.
Malaria Medicine: check.
And you get the point. All that must be done now is go to sleep and contain the excitement for tomorrow. I am imagining the 90 degree weather and the wave of heat that will hit us when we step out of the airport in Accra. I am imaging the complete lack of snow. I am imagining the lack of hamburgers and french fries and pizza. What a scary thought…
My biggest worry at the moment is whether my camera batteries will last. I hear the electricity is spotty, and so my battery charger might get fried. Its a small sacrifice though. I’d rather have pictures later than a battery charger.
I can almost see Ghana. And just think: it only takes a day of traveling to get there.
See you in Ghana.
Packed and ready
I have finished packing and I’m ready to wake up at 4:00am for a 5:30am Greyhound out of Philadelphia. After 16 hours I’ll arrive in Detroit at 9:45. I’ve packed a lot of books I’ve been meaning to read, now with this long travel time I’ll get a chance to break into some of them.
Peace,
Henry
Explode Up!
I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m frustrated. The awkward silence fills the cubby of the indoor golf site I get lessons from in the winter. “John, I can’t do it. My club decelerates when I hit impact. I don’t know what else to do”. My nervousness begins to greaten when I realize I have a week left until I leave for the academy. “Casey, I don’t know what to tell you right now. Let’s try squatting, without pushing your right knee out, and when you hit impact you’re going to explode up, quick, and with strength”. He proceeds to hold my body down while I try squatting lower and lower. “Now, explode up!” he says. I push upwards as hard as I can but I seem to be stuck in the same position. “See? I can’t get my body up like that. And if I do, my club seems to get stuck right when I’m striking the ball”, I say. John looks unhappy with me, but it may be he’s just unhappy with his teaching. I cannot tell.
When John makes a certain look, with his hand over his chin and a confused gaze in his eyes, I know that he’s thinking. Every lesson I see this look and it makes me worry. Does he really not know how to help me? I think to myself. This time, he turns to me and tells me that I cannot get any more power from my arms, and that my legs and thighs is where the rest of my power now needs to come from. “Alright”, I say, with sweat dripping down the side of my cheek that could be easily mistaken as a tear. Wait, was it a tear?
“Casey I know you are mad at me. I know this is hard, but you’re going to have to do it. There’s no possible way you can get enough power and hit long enough with your swing now. Do you understand that?” he proceeds to tell me. A small pause. I try to bring myself together so I don’t start crying. Why is this all happening to me now? Why didn’t he tell me this earlier? “I do, I’m just. I’m just not sure how to fix it. I understand the whole exploding thing but it seems to weigh me down, so that the club cannot swing fast. It feels as if it’s stuck” I finally am able to say. “I guess I get that,” he says. “But how de we fix it?” he asks again. Another small pause. By this time it’s 5:20. I was supposed to be done 20 minutes ago. Doesn’t he have another lesson? When can I leave? “John, this just isn’t fun. I hate this” I continue to say to my coach. “You will be fine Casey, you will be fine” he says. He finally dismisses me from the lesson and I slowly walk to my car, thinking to myself: I hate this. I just hate this.
The Dragon House and Gaudi’s Spain
Today marked the official beginning of my journey with my family to Barcelona, Spain. I travelled thirteen hours into the future, from Thursday afternoon until Friday morning, and managed, somehow, to still have energy enough to explore. After getting off the plane we were met with an overly enthusiastic driver named Toni: a nearly indistinguishable Spaniard with olive skin, short, brown hair, flattering stubble and prominent, bony facial features. As he drove us the half hour from the Barcelona Airport to our destination, Hotel Majestic on Passeig de Gracias, he excitedly discussed with us the happenings of his city, and the recent ups and downs in terms of Barcelona’s economy and tourism.
On our drive, I was immediately struck by the mixture of classical and modernist architecture both inside and outside of the city. From Gaudi to graffiti, every building glittered with humanity and creative ingenuity, not to mention a plethora of multicolored, divinely inspired mosaics. On leaving Toni and the world of Barcelonan automotive transportation (most of which is run by Mercedez Benz, Volkswagon and Audi, a fine example of the comparatively blasé sense of American quality… but that’s another story), my senses overloaded with the vibrancy of my settings. If nothing else, Spain is sexy. It’s well groomed, it’s generous, it’s exciting. It stays up late, and it knows how to make you smile.
After a much-needed espresso and selection of tapas, we checked into Majestic and unpacked our luggage to join the rest of the city in their mid-morning siesta.
Our hotel is on the Park Avenue of Barcelona. It shares a building with Chanel, and a block with Hermes and Louis Vuitton. Sitting on the balcony outside of my room (almost every room or apartment in central Barcelona has a balcony; as Toni described it, “They chop off the corners of buildings for all those beaaaautiful terraces… who wants a window?! No one wants a window. You must go outside and be a part of the street”), my vision was overwhelmed by the constant whirring of motorcyclists and picture-snapping tourists, leggy-models and Armani-clad homes.
We reconvened after our early morning siesta on the roof of Majestic, where my sister was dying to visit the swimming pool. To our surprise, the roof was a thousand times as splendid as our little rooms and balconies; the azure pool glimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the mountainous, city-wide view that circumnavigated it. A bartender brought us snacks and drinks as we leaned over the latticed railways towards La Sagrada Familia, Montjuic and the Mediterranian, breathing deeply the smell of lilacs, orange trees and palm growing on a terrace beneath us.
As the sun peaked in the sky and the locals rolled out of their beds, we jostled our way across the street, weaving between bicyclists on community-loaned bikes, subcompact cars, motorcycles, and all of the endless picture-taking tourists. Like many of the tourists, we headed for the line into La Casa Battlo, a private home designed and renovated by Antoni Gaudi, the riotously popular local architect and designer of La Sagrada Familia (as yet unfinished), and the controversial La Casa Mila (also known as La Padrera), both of which I hope desperately to tour before my time here is through.
I like to call La Casa Battlo ‘the dragon house.’ It was built as a testament to St. George who slayed the dragon (the patron saint of Barcelona) and the multilevel house serves as a functional shrine, encapsulating their infamous battle. The dragon’s spine curves its way up the banisters and walls of the curvaceous, asymmetrical house to the roof, where it dips and peaks under George’s cross-shaped sword as it’s ultimately defeated. On either side of the main stairway, which circles around a beautiful, blue mosaic atrium, are hallways and smaller stairways that are indistinguishably bony and rib-like in their curved, white arches and spirals, which are meant to depict the bones of the dragon’s previous victims.
As is many other masterpieces of Spanish architecture, La Casa Battlo is naturally lit, with its atrium and windows gushing with Barcelona’s clear sunlight. When approaching the outdoors, though, the brilliancy of light is almost overwhelming. In taking photographs and making quick sketches, I was entranced by the interesting shapes Gaudi used in his windows and towers, which cast brilliant highlights and shadows across the space, as if the spaces themselves were imposing their voices upon the viewers and the floors and walls around them. I remember standing on the roof, watching as the shadows of an iron-barred window slowly cast themselves over a tourist photographing the terrace below. He snapped the picture and walked away.
I walked away, too, but not before capturing the little circle of shadowy black on the clay floor. I think that Gaudi’s magic reflects, and even promotes the magic I see in Barcelona. It is as though even the mundane is brought to life, reflecting the everyday as if in a funhouse mirror. Everything is slightly distorted, and looking makes you think.
I was telling my father, in a little bagueteria, about the power that South American and Spanish writers have had on me, about the reality I’ve found in their unbelievable stories. Barcelona is like that; Gaudi is like that. It wouldn’t be quite as magical if it followed any standards; it wouldn’t be as real if it made any sense.
With love from Barcelona,
Emily
2/18/2011
Paying Homage in the Homeland
When I think of Israel/Palestine, I think of what I’ve been taught in class. I think of maps, wars, declarations, walls, checkpoints and stones. I think about Christianity, Islam and Judaism. I think about a God that I have become disconnected from after years of struggling with religion. I think about oppression, how two of the most historically oppressed peoples have come together, having more in common than they could know or imagine, have come together to breed even more oppression. I think about a tiny piece of land with huge importance. I think about liberation, and equality, for the Palestinian and the Israeli people.
However, there is only so much I can learn in World Religions, Liberation Theology, Hiroshima to 9/11 or Model UN. There is only so much I can learn by writing Israeli/Palestine peace proposals or watching and reading countless works about the current and historical situation. There is only so much that can be learned from reel, or ink and paper. I want to learn all that I can learn about “the Promised Land”, as my Jewish faith calls it, and I can only do so by going there.
Our group of diverse students and faculty are just three days away from a long flight to a land with a long history, and I have no doubts about what I have chosen to do for my Senior Project. As I have stated, my choice of the Israel/Palestine trip is deeply rooted in finding my disconnected spiritual roots in Jerusalem, at the West Wall, in the land that was promised to Abraham’s descendants. I’d like to find something that affects me deeply in the holy land, and I have a feeling that I won’t have to look very hard at all.
However, my religion(or lack of it) is not the only reason that I’m going to take this once-in-a-lifetime journey. Journalism is the career field that I’d like to find myself in years down the road, and there is no better “on the job” experience than a trip to meet strong-willed people and see some of the world’s holiest sites in arguably the most controversial place in the world. My hope is that this trip will be a kick-start to my journalism career, and will be something that I’ll be able to use for reference for the rest of it.
I could sit here and write pages upon pages of why I’m going to Israel/Palestine, but I don’t intend to bore you, noble reader. In fact, I applaud you for making it through that wall of text. What I will tell you though, is that I am incredibly excited. In fact, more excited than I’ve ever been in my life. The textbooks that I have been reading from Sunday school at seven to the movies at seventeen will come to life. I only hope that I’ll be able to calm myself down and not over-analyze enough to actually enjoy myself and find my center while I’m there. I don’t expect to solve any world problems while I’m other, no one person can do that, but I do expect to solve some of Mike’s problems.
Thanks for reading,
Mike
“One Night In Bangkok Makes a Hard Man Humble”
Hey Everyone!
My name is John-Michael and I am a Senior at The Westtown School. For my Senior Project I am going to Thailand and will be there for about two weeks. One of my passions is creating videos and so most of my trip I hope to be vlogging, which is video blogging. Hopefully this will give everyone a visual of what we are doing.
I’m going to be honest with you, I’m actually kind of scared about this trip. Last week we had a meeting about our travel plans and what to pack, and let’s just say it’s going to be quite the adventure. We leave on February 22nd out of Philadelphia to Detroit. Then from Detroit we fly to Tokyo, and then from Tokyo, we fly to Bangkok. I think it comes out to about a 30 hour flight. Well, at least I’ll be rackin’ up the frequent flyer miles. During our time in Thailand, we are spending the first four days in Bangkok, then a week in an Elephant Nature Park, and then back to Bangkok for a day. While we are in Bangkok we will be site seeing and experiencing the unique culture. We are visiting temples and touring the city of Bangkok. While at the Nature Park, we will be working with elephants right outside the city of Chiang Mai. There we will wash them, feed them, and clean up after them. I have always wanted to see an elephant because I hear they are some of the smartest animals and they have very similar emotions as humans. It is going to be hard adjusting to the new lifestyle and culture and I have never really backpacked around a foreign country before.
I am going with a great group kids and I believe four of us are blogging. I have traveled out of the country many times before, but I have never been to Asia. Also I love animals and I can’t wait to see an elephant up close. I hope I will be able to post some video and pictures of the elephants up on my blog. So with seven more days until we leave, I am extremely excited but also very nervous. I’ll also be putting up a welcome video up for those of you who like visuals. Thanks
John-Michael
Journey to Paris
Hello everyone!
My name is Dennis (Chan Min), and I am from Seoul, South Korea. I have had invaluable experiences at Westtown School thus far and now very excited about my Senior Project.
My Senior Project will be an engagement with French culture and language through a French exchange program. I will be taking classes at Westtown’s sister school in Paris, Notre Dame des Missions. I will be studying European and French history and exploring historical sites. While I study Mandarin Chinese as my third language, I deliberately chose Paris as a place for new exploration because it is a historically rich city in arts, music, and European culture.
This has been my fourth year in the United States. Had I not come to this country, my life now would have been very different; I would be studying and memorizing figures and facts for college admission tests and school exams. Being at Westtown School, however, has helped me to discover my talents and maximize my potential. Quakers have a saying about “the calling out of gifts”, and that has been my experience in and outside of the classroom. The fulfillment that has come from interacting with people from diverse backgrounds, engaging in culture-crossing activities, and sharing my musical and interpersonal skills with people in my community, has taught me the two essential lessons: who I am and how I want to live my life. These discoveries have become fundamental to my understanding of the world. The way I see the world now is no longer myopic. I can truly think from a global perspective and see beyond my immediate experience to the world community. I hope to further maximize my potential this winter through my Senior Project. I am confident that new people I will meet in Paris and new challenges I will face through my project will not only add another layer to my understanding of the world community, but also help me to discover my passionate interests in world affairs and fulfill my cherished dream of becoming an ambassador and a respected politician in my country.
I am very excited about my trip to France. You are welcome to stay tuned in on my journey. I hope to learn more about the world around me and to share my learning with you through this blog for the next few weeks.
Dennis (Chan Min) ’11
Westtown School
We can do this John, we can do this.
“You have to call me once you get there, please. I’m worried they will screw up your swing,” says John, my golf coach. “I don’t think they can do any harm, really. It’s not like I’m going to show up and completely forget about everything I learned these past four years”, I say, “it should be fun! I’m not going to lie though, I’m super nervous”. “Casey,” John goes on to say “I want you to be prepared to be let down. You need to understand these players are playing in every top Division 1 college. They will beat you. And they won’t feel sorry for you. This will be one of the biggest challenges you will have to face. But remember, this isn’t for them. This is for you. This is for you to improve in ways you never thought you could before. No one cares if you have a bad shot. Just think about you and how you want to succeed”.
John, a man with a past career of Division 1 tennis and music, is one of the most encouraging coaches I have ever met. He is always early, stays after hours in the dark, tells me how bad I am at times, yet shows me how I can win a match, in the most difficult sport I have ever played, golf. He is always positive, telling me and his other students, that we can achieve what ever we set our minds to. He is always smiling, always rubbing and making jokes about his big belly, and always a father figure to us all.
“Kid, you hit the ball as hard as my grandma does, and she’s dead”. These comments are shot my way during every practice. “Yo, you hit like a girl. When are you going to start lifting weights, like I tell you every time you come to me?” he says. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m so busy. I’ve been trying my best” I say. “Well, obviously your best is not enough!” says my coach.
This makes me nervous. How am I going to survive two weeks at a golf school? TWO WEEKS?! I will most likely be the only girl and I will have to play with boys everyday on the course. Why didn’t my mom let me get out of this earlier? How far will I get until I break down in a panic attack? “Case, I understand how much anxiety you have. But that’s a good thing. If you didn’t have any worries, than there would be no reason to do this clinic. It will be rough, but you can do it. I have yet to have any doubts,” John tells me. If John thinks I can do it, then I think I can. He knows all. He is god of golf for me. Yes, John, I can do it. I’m doing it for not only me, but for you too. You will not be there but we are in this together. Every stroke, every pitch, every putt, I will follow your suggestions, tips, and advice. I will take a practice swing first, every motion identical to the way you taught me. We can do this John, we can do this.
Countdown To Ghana!
Hey! I’m Kevin and in less than two weeks I’ll be stepping off the plane in Accra, Ghana. I and 10 other Westtown students will be spending a little over two weeks teaching classes at Heritage Academy, helping to build additional classrooms for the school, and visiting local villages and various historic sites.
I jumped at this opportunity earlier this year when we were first presented with the challenge of choosing a Senior Project, and my excitement has only grown since then. I think the thing that appealed the most to me about this opportunity was the chance to teach children who don’t take for granted the importance of a good education. I’ve had a chance to teach a German class or two here at Westtown, and have enjoyed each one, but it’s one thing to teach 18 kids at Westtown who just want to get to lunch, and another to teach a group of children who view school as a privilege. With this in mind, I set myself the task of coming up with a lesson plan that would be informative, challenging, and yet more interesting than an average, run-of-the-mill class.
One day an idea just came to me, and I hope it’ll work out well. I thought it might be cool if the kids worked in small groups of 3-4 to make basic story books. At first, I thought it might be too simplistic and childish for Middle Schoolers, but T. Kwesi convinced me otherwise, and I’m going ahead with my idea. I figured it’d be a good way for them to learn about things like paragraph structure, plot lines, sensory details, character descriptions and the like. Allowing them to fill the pages with illustrations would also give them a creative outlet, and since kids don’t have art classes at Heritage Academy, I thought this might make the class a little different and hopefully more interesting.
All in all, I just can’t wait to go. In fact, I’m ready to step on the plane right now. It’s going to be great to go somewhere completely different from anywhere that I’ve gone before, and to try something new and meaningful.
Talk to you all later,
Kevin
Westtown Senior Projects' Blog 