Defining Moments

defining

MOMENTS

Center for Public Service TULANE UNIVERSITY

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E ARE DEFINED BY MOMENTS. Moments when we decide to act, moments of intellectual discovery,

internships, days of service,

moments when we realize what matters to us, moments

and student

that impress themselves upon us and shape our outlooks

groups devoted

for years to come.

to service.

Public service offers us the chance to have such moments.

These moments happen, in part, because when we engage in public service, we are working with others to address the great challenges of our time – challenges in medicine, public health, the environment, poverty, and education. Defining moments also occur while doing public service because it involves us on numerous levels at once, it engages our full humanity. Public service can affect us on a personal level and offer us fresh perspectives on who we are and how we are connected to the people around us.

Hearing about these moments from a diverse group of participants in Tulane’s community engagement initiatives

We also share these defining moments as a way of reflecting on our vision for public service at Tulane. We believe that everyone involved in these collaborations – students, faculty, community partners, and community members – should be heard and directly involved in planning and organizing, and in regular re-evaluations. Healthy collaborations are not the result of chance; they flourish when everyone involved has a voice. It is no coincidence that defining moments tend to happen more frequently when there is genuine collaboration.

Finally, the defining moments collected here help us to show why we are sincerely grateful to all those who support the Center for Public Service.

reminds us why we do what we do at the Center for Public Service: collaborate with hundreds of community partners and provide support for service-learning courses, public service

AGNIESZKA NANCE, Ph.D. Executive Director, Tulane Center for Public Service

DEFINING MO MENT S

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MYR I AM H UE T | PROGRAM MANAGER FOR INTERNSHIPS AND INTERNATIONAL PROGRAMS, CPS

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I went there to give. I learned to receive. { Moment: Not long after arriving in St. Martin }

AFTER SEVEN MONTHS OF UNEXPECTED CHALLENGES AND LOW MORALE AT ANOTHER RESEARCH SITE, I had made the difficult decision to relocate. I had just arrived on the island of St. Martin to continue conducting ethnographic fieldwork on the Rastafari movement for my dissertation in cultural anthropology.

With no place to stay and little grant money to spare, I found comfort when a Rastafari sistren spontaneously invited me to stay in her small home until I could secure a more permanent residence. Within a couple of days of my arrival, word of mouth spread that I was looking for housing and a Rastafari bredrin let it be known that he had a storage space adjacent to his house that was available but in no condition to be lived in. Before I knew it, one of the elders gathered a group of bredrins and told me they would renovate the space for no charge – I just had to pay for the materials! Each day, they worked in the sweltering heat, cleaning up, laying floors, painting, cutting boards, putting up counter tops, doors, a sink, and running water to make the space cozy and welcoming. All they accepted were drinks and food. Others in the community donated a mattress, tables, chairs, and other essentials to allow me to move in and feel at home.

A few weeks later, I gave a housewarming party to thank everyone for their generosity and support. I could not stop saying “thank you,” to which one sistren responded: “An lanmen ka bat ak an lot lanmen,” which is Creole for “you need two hands to clap.” She was gently reminding me that I should be willing to receive as much as I was eager to give. Plainly said, I should not turn down support or neglect to ask for help. If I did so, I would rob those around me, even if they seemingly didn’t have much, from the pleasure of giving and sharing

with me. In a community where the reciprocal exchange of services often took the place of paid services, I had to learn to suspend behaviors that reinforced individualism.

The initial hospitality, kindness, and attention I received from members of the Solidarity Rastafari Organization was only a taste of the overwhelming and inspiring power of community building I would experience over the next few months there.

“You need two hands to clap.”

As I lived and worked with the Rastafari in St. Martin, I saw the way they support, inspire, and strengthen the community – especially the youth who face unemployment, temptations of violence, drugs, alcohol, and a lack of hope.

Although they might be “resource poor, they [are] network rich” – a phrase I borrow from an article by George Lipsitz written in the wake of Hurricane Katrina about displaced New Orleans residents.

My experience in St. Martin gave me a powerful understanding of the potential for positive impact we each hold. The experience also informs my work as the Program Manager for Internships and International Programs at Tulane’s Center for Public Service, where nurturing community and networks is essential. CPS is a hub – the sweet connection and intersection between creative, intelligent, resourceful, and engaged people in the community and on campus, making all things possible.

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By designing for others, I build communities. { Moment: After hours, Tulane City Center } LAST SUMMER, WHILE WORKING THROUGHOUT NEW ORLEANS AS A DESIGN FELLOW AT THE TULANE CITY CENTER, I began to realize the impact I could have – as a student and in my career as an architect.

Tulane City Center, among many other things, provides design services for organizations that wouldn’t otherwise have access to them. And at the same time, the Center is a resource for students like me to get valuable work experience in an important field, while surrounded by passionate people who work everyday to further education and design in New Orleans. Over the past few years I have worked as an intern for the office, collaborating with other students and faculty on projects such as developing low-cost

SAM NAYLOR | FOURTH YEAR OF A FIVE-YEAR BACHELOR AND MASTER’S PROGRAM IN ARCHITECTURE

housing for a nonprofit in Gentilly and planning an environmental and research education initiative in the Lower Ninth Ward. The work is always different – at times requiring the generation of ideas or design and at other times requiring my fellow classmates and me to physically participate in the construction of our projects. The work I have been a part of often operates on a small scale within our city, but incremental solutions can often have a big impact on the city’s neighborhoods and its residents.

Currently I am a member of this semester’s Design Build Studio, working with fellow students to design a project with the Center for Sustainable Engagement and Development in the Lower Ninth Ward. We are designing an outdoor wetland education

‘‘I began to realize the impact I could have – as a student and in my career as an architect.’’

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center along Bayou Bienvenue that the organization hopes to program with a variety of environmental research and education initiatives. The larger goal, shared by the students and the community alike, is to connect locals and visitors to this unique and important landscape.

During this past summer my co-fellows and I were able to participate in “design futures,” a national forum drawing in students, professionals, and pioneers in the field of public interest design. The conference gave me a glimpse of the multitude of different avenues I can take after graduation. Above all, I know now that even if I don’t specifically practice public interest design, a passion for it will always be a part of what I do. I have the tools and methods to consider the broader impact of every project, no matter how small or large in scope.

A MOMENT OF FAILURE TAUGHT ME HOW TO PLANT SEEDS OF WISDOM. { Moment: A Tuesday afternoon, just before the bell rang } THE STUDENTS WERE CLEARLY UPSET AT HAVING A MAGNIFYING GLASS PLACED ON THEIR PERFORMANCES. I realized at that moment that I had seriously misjudged the middle school debaters I was coaching.

I was following a lesson plan I came up with after our most recent tournament. I drew a flow chart on the blackboard showing the progression of arguments my debaters had used during one of the rounds at the tournament. I hoped to help them see their arguments more clearly and have a lively discussion about ways to improve. What I got was silence.

‘‘They surprised me with their sensitivity because they were often supremely confident and gifted speakers.’’

At that moment of failure, I had to abandon my lesson plan and quickly shift my approach. I fumbled a bit – I tried to smooth things over by sharing an anecdote about one of my many failures as a debater in high school. I then transitioned to a different exercise I had planned.

The failure I experienced with the lesson plan helped me understand that I had to get a better sense of the complicated stage of maturity of the middle school debaters. I needed to understand my audience and say things that could plant seeds of wisdom.

Direct criticism was not the way. They surprised me with their sensitivity because they were often supremely confident and gifted speakers – but I had to realize that

ZHENZHEN SHI | SENIOR MAJORING IN BIOLOGICAL CHEMISTRY

they were, after all, still kids.

Later that week I went back to the drawing board. I contacted two undergraduates from the Tulane Debate Team to ask them to engage in a mock debate for the middle school students. Afterwards, I led the class in a constructive discussion evaluating the arguments made in the round. The quick chatter of the students was a stark contrast to their previous silence.

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I REALIZED THEY DIDN’T KNOW THE MEANING OF THANKSGIVING. { Moment: Weekday afternoon in November } “WE EAT TURKEY. WE GO SHOPPING. WE DON’T GO TO SCHOOL. WE SEE OUR FAMILY MEMBERS FIGHT.” Those were the answers we heard from our elementary students at the afterschool program when they were asked, “What does Thanksgiving mean to you?” I knew then that we had to do something creative to teach them the true meaning of Thanksgiving. So we decided to ask the afterschool elementary students at the Kedila Family Learning Center to write, produce and act in a play about Thanksgiving that they entitled: “Mayflower at Kedila.”

‘‘Our partnership with Tulane has helped Kedila.’’

When the play debuted, we had a standing-room-only audience.

It was at that moment I realized that much work was needed to expose our community to so many cultural traditions. And I realized that we needed to do it through family-oriented, artistic celebrations that could at the same time help us build relationships and a shared sense of civic identity.

Our partnership with Tulane has helped Kedila work toward those goals and offer afterschool programs and summer camp for as many as 400 New Orleans school-aged children each year. Tulane students and AmeriCorps VISTA members who work with Kedila through the Center for Public Service help in the classroom, conducting research, writing grants and planning summer camps.

The Center for Public Service’s professional development programs designed for community partners, including the Nonprofit Leadership Institute and the Experiential Education and Leadership Institute, have also been great opportunities to learn and build relationships with community leaders with similar objectives, which makes all of our organizations stronger.

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DIPO MOSADOM I | EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR OF KEDILA FAMILY LEARNING CENTER

I helped save a life.

I found my path. { Moment: 2 a.m. on a Saturday } THE PARAMEDIC KNOCKED ON THE DOOR FOR WHAT FELT LIKE 10 MINUTES. We had gotten a call that the man inside might be having a stroke. He heard us knocking but he couldn’t get to the door.

When he finally answered, I understood why it had taken so long.

The man’s body had been weakened by previous strokes. One side of his body was paralyzed completely, and he used a walker to get around. But he was so polite, so gentle, so happy to see us. He was alone inside the house; he told us that his family had moved away. He wasn’t sure if he should go to the hospital. But his blood pressure was high, which is one sign of a stroke. So he eventually agreed to go.

I saw and learned so much during my internship with New Orleans Emergency Medical Services. They let me help as much as my training as an EMT allowed. On a call, I might get a set of vitals or interview the patient. An extra set of hands can make a world of difference.

MEGAN J O HNSO N | TULANE ANTHROPOLOGY GRADUATE

We were sent on everything from mundane calls to car accidents, gunshot wounds, stabbings, codes. On a busy night there was no time between calls. But on a slow night, while we were sitting in different neighborhoods in the ambulance waiting for the next call, I would ask questions. I asked so many questions. It was great to help out people I admire for the work that they’re doing.

‘‘An extra set of hands can make a world of difference’’

The stroke patient has always stuck with me. It was a combination of things that led to his condition, including not knowing the signs of a stroke. Now, I’m in my first year at medical school at the University of Southern California, and I want to make sure my patients know the importance of disease and injury prevention, of nutrition, exercise and vaccination.

I like to think my experience as a public service intern with New Orleans Emergency Medical Services will be reflected in me as a doctor and in my career.

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In this space, I felt safe. { Moment: Reading Room, Sunday, 4:15 p.m. }

PRESTON MILLS |

I WAS MEETING WITH A GROUP OF TULANE STUDENTS in the Seltzer-Gerard Reading Room in Tulane’s Nadine Vorhoff Library.

Our meeting was a safe space – a place where everyone was JUNIOR MAJORING IN MATHEMATICS AND SOCIOLOGY open, welcoming, and respectful of everyone no matter their sexual orientation, race, class or cultural background. It dawned on me just how rare such safe spaces are. I realized what a privilege it is to be in a place where people can be themselves, without fear of harassment or violence.

After that meeting I decided to dedicate myself to making more safe spaces on campus and off. Interestingly, through my service learning, I gained insight into an aspect of safe spaces. I was serving as an ESL tutor at La Semilla, which wasn’t a safe space, exactly, but it was a place that welcomed

undocumented immigrants. Even more than that, after a couple of months working there, I felt a genuine connection to the people. It was like I was working with my own family.

I didn’t mind when they needed me to do child care or to file papers instead of using my English teaching skills because it wasn’t just about me, it was about being part of a community.

I was able bridge my interest in creating safe spaces and working in the community through the Community Engagement Advocates (CEA) program run by the Center for Public Service. Through this year-long program I gained new skills to facilitate discussions of class, race, sexual orientation, identity, and cultural differences. Professors and student groups now arrange to have me (usually with another CEA) visit their classes or meetings to orchestrate conversations about these subjects. These issues are often brought to life by service-learning experiences that take students out into various communities throughout the city.

And by opening up safe places for students to talk about the complexities of our humanity, we are learning together about what it means to be a community.

‘‘It was like I was working with my own family.’’

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MY LIFE CHANGED IN A MOMENT OF SILENCE

{ Moment: Sunset, end of a long workday in Honduras } I SAT ON THE SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN AT SUNSET WITH EVERYONE I’D BEEN WORKING WITH over the past week: Honduran masons, college students, and the family we were helping – David, Noenya, and their daughter. We were all silent, but our silence spoke volumes.

It was our last day together and we were sitting beside the new water pila, latrine, shower, and eco-stove and passing around coffee – coffee that was made from beans picked from the rows of coffee trees we could see stretching for miles. This silence and the moment that followed changed my entire perspective on what it means to serve. I realized that although I had only spent a week with them, the implications of what we were doing would last for so much longer.

Each day we’d work from sunrise to sunset and, despite communication barriers, as the week went on we felt like a family – we felt like were working on our own house. And each day I’d leave David’s home and take a two hour commute back to our hostel, not without saying “See you later!” to which he replied, “Hasta luego!”

Sitting above the clouds on the side of that mountain made me reevaluate my

time at Tulane and in New Orleans. I had developed a deep respect for the resilience of David and his family. And I began to recognize that the people of New Orleans have that same grit, which allows them to not only survive enormous challenges, but to enjoy life as they do it. Their resilience allowed me to see with a stark clarity that most of my day-to-day worries are trivial.

At the same time, I saw how life-changing the work we were doing would be for David and his family and I had a new understanding of how significant the programs that help those in need can be. In those few minutes on the side of a mountain, I realized that we were doing something that mattered, something that was changing all of us for the better.

‘‘Their resilience allowed me to see with a stark clarity that most of my day-to-day worries are trivial.’’

I finished my coffee and got up to say goodbye to David. As I walked towards our van for the last time, I heard David call out for the first time, “See you later!”

DEFINING MO MENT S

KRISHNA PANDYA | CELL AND MOLECULAR BIOLOGY GRADUATE AND AMERICORPS VISTA MEMBER

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thank

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Tulane University’s Center for Public Service is grateful to our friends and donors who help make defining moments possible.