Welcome our new bloggers

Though we get to hold on to Dermot through December, we welcome new bloggers from some of our other regions!
From the Midwest, meet Justin:

Justin grew up in Arabi, LA, a city in St. Bernard Parish located next to the lower 9th ward of New Orleans. He was raised by his perfectionist dad Anthony, a New Orleans policeman, and selfless mom, Karen. His older brother, Anthony Jr., currently works for Cintas Uniform Co. in Pensacola, FL, and his younger brother, Vinnie, is a freshman at Southeastern Louisiana University. Justin attended Jesuit High School in New Orleans and is a graduate of St. Edward’s University (Austin, TX) with a BA in Theology and a minor in English Writing & Rhetoric. Despite dealing with two major hardships over the past several years, the loss of his father to cancer during his senior year of high school and the loss of his home to Hurricane Katrina during his sophomore year of college, Justin enjoys finding humor in all things. He has performed as a stand-up comedian and co-hosted an internet radio show in Austin. Justin currently resides in St. Louis, MO, with four other Jesuit Volunteers. He works for Franciscan Connection, performing home repairs and renovations for senior citizens and low income families.

From the South, meet Lauren:

Lauren Carpenter is from East Hartford, Connecticut. In May 2008, she graduated from Smith College in Northampton, MA with a major in anthropology and a minor in Spanish. While at Smith, she rowed on the crew team, spent her junior year studying in Puebla, Mexico and was an active member “the Radical Catholic Feminists of Smith.” This year she is working at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in San Antonio, Texas. At Our Lady of Guadalupe, she runs the Social Services Office which provides groceries and financial assistance to families in need. She also works with the youth ministry program and other parish activities.

From the Southwest, meet Matt:

Mathew Carroll was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts and graduated from Boston College in 2008 where he studied Philosophy and English. With none of Wall Street’s top Philosophy firms hiring, Matt decided to pursue a career as a contemplative in action at Homeboy Industries, the nation’s largest outreach center for gang members, located in Los Angeles, CA. This is the first time living away from Boston for Matt, so a little homesickness is natural. Fortunately, Southern California’s recent futility against New England sports serves as an easy reminder of home. When he’s not working as a case manager at Homeboy, Matt enjoys “practicing” guitar, writing, sports, reading, the outdoors, and 90’s boy band music (perhaps just a bit too much).

Kate - Moving On

Wow. It’s tough to try and sum up a year of my life in a short blog. I just returned from Dis-orientation, and Orientation feels so long ago. I guess that is a good place to start. When I arrived at Orientation, I completely freaked out. I knew my parents had met through JVC, but beyond that, I didn't know a lot about their experience. However, at Orientation, I realized so much of my childhood stemmed from this program (hence the freaking out). I grew up with agenda meetings, occasional spirituality nights, and anywhere from two to eight other housemates living with my family of nine.

I think the other part of my freaking out was that I felt as though this was one of the first things I did that really paralleled my parents' lives. Before JVC, I had participated in multiple "programs" and spent substantial time abroad. My parents were always 100% supportive of me, and yet, at the same time, I had felt that they didn't completely know or understand what it was that I was doing. And then there I was, at Orientation, thinking about my parents at my age at their own Orientation. Did they have any idea what the year would bring? Did they know that it would result in a lifetime together?

The way my life was paralleling my parents made me feel vulnerable and less independent. I subsequently emailed my parents and told them that I needed some space to absorb what was going on and that I would call them in a month. Which, luckily, they were mostly understanding about (well my mom was very understanding, and my dad called me at work on my second day.)

I didn't exactly understand my own reaction, but I knew I needed that space. In retrospect, I think I needed to delve into JVC in my own way, and truly decide for myself what the year would mean to me. And, while I know so much of who I am stems from my parents, I needed to fully explore that on my own. What roles do I want spirituality, simplicity, social justice, and community to play in my life? How would my understanding of these values evolve over the year?

As I look back over this experience, there is so much I am thankful for. The lessons I have learned from my clients, the mentors I have found in my workplace, the opportunity to pray with others, and the constant support we receive. Some of the greatest gifts have been things I wanted to happen-a reconciliation with Catholicism, the breadth of knowledge and skills I have gained in my workplace, being humbled, and finally having an excuse for my own cheapness. And some of the greatest gifts have come from things I was adamant I didn't want to happen- dating a fellow JV, having my housemates be my main group of friends, and moving mid-year.

As I sat at Dis-Orientation last weekend, it felt so strange to by saying good-bye to all this. And I realized that was because JVC is not just a program I am doing; it has become my life. And now suddenly somebody was taking that away from me - my job, my co-workers, my housemates, and my home - and I sort of want to say “wait a minute, you can’t have this.”

But my JVC year is coming to an end, and so I have been thinking about how I want to continue from here. JVC has given me ample time to examine myself, and also to examine myself within the context of the four values. I have been blessed this year to see so many different ways these values can manifest.

I would like to say I have been "ruined for life" by JVC, but I don't think it is a direct result of this year. I’ve pretty much been “ruined” since birth, and for that I have my parents to thank. What I have realized this year is that I want those values to not just be a part of my life, but I want them to be a conscious, intentional part. And I hope my understanding of them will constantly evolve. I don't know that I'll ever be able to fully answer the question as to how I want the JVC values to play out in my life, but I hope I never stop asking the question.

** In regards to the photos, the first is of my parents during their JVC year (30 years ago!). The second is me laughing with my favorite attorneys/co-workers.**

Learn about Kate here.

Dermot - Api

To lay the groundwork for this story, I need to take you back to the battlegrounds of Mes de Misión: the month-long service trip I completed in January. This is where I first tried api: a warm corn-based drink that has the consistency of runny toothpaste, the flavor of something awful doused with a lot of sugar, and the potential to ruin your day, if consumed in large quantities. I imagine that in some dystopian future, an alien invasion force might force-feed api to rebellious humans, as the beverage is as torturous as it is other-worldly. If you disagree, ask yourself: how many times have you seen anyone voluntarily drink steaming, purple goo? Before Mes de Misión and outside of reruns of Star Trek, I had never encountered anything like the pseudo-beverage that has become the nemesis for my teaching at Cristo Rey.

Now, I can't entirely blame what happened on the api. I was on my third day of Mes de Misión and was getting ready to eat a simple breakfast, when my new best friend Doña Lila filled my Nalgene water bottle with an overwhelming quantity of the purple stuff. I was happy for the generous gift and was pleased to know that Doña Lila (the cook at the cafeteria where we ate every morning) had taken the bait from all the effusive compliments I had paid her about her cooking. Unfortunately, the Almighty frowned upon both my gluttony and my sycophantic tendencies toward Doña Lila by giving me the all-to-familiar rumbling in my stomach which sends me running to a Peruvian bathroom.

I politely excused myself from the breakfast table and headed toward my living quarters. I was fiddling with the keys to open the door and quickly redeposit the api in our communal toilet, when mother nature dictated that that the front door to our house would be a better place.

Luckily, no one actually saw me vomiting up purple bile. But, sure as sunshine, all my kids came marching out of the cafeteria as I was attempting to hide the evidence of my latest failure with Peruvian cuisine. I tried to play it off that a dog had done something nasty….or maybe it was funny run-off from the river (I tried to tell them, "It´s the rainy season, you know"). Then, the biggest smart-ass in the class stared at me deadpan and said, " Meester Liinch, es vomito de api." (No translation needed).

The cat was out of the bag. And it’s been the running joke in the school ever since. In class, on a bad day, I turn around to write something on the board and I hear “api,” “api,” “api,” from various corners of the room. I try to discipline the kids and somebody invariably yells, “don´t worry, Miister Liinch, be api (happy).” Two weeks ago, I was watching Cristo Rey play a soccer game and the entire 4^th year and 5^th year classes (120 students) started chanting “api” as I walked by.

What can I do in the face of this problem? In reality, very little. At first, I tried to be rigid: a strict disciplinarian. I tried to make the kids fear me. I threatened them too much with detention. I tried to shock and awe them with meticulously organized lesson plans. None of this really worked. I realized that excessive punishment only alienates you from the students, while more trust will give you a great class.

I learned this valuable lesson in balancing discipline and encouragement after visiting the houses of my "tutoria" students. As part of the Peruvian education system, every thirty kids are assigned the equivalent of a super-homeroom teacher who must fulfill the role of head disciplinarian, counselor, spiritual guide, and adult best friend for the student. Part of this job entails a visit to each students’ house during the first half of the year. As an assistant tutor (working with a very capable Peruvian), I have visited 29 of the 30 kids at their homes and have learned about the difficulties many of them have overcome.

Perhaps most shockingly, I learned that about half of my students come from broken families. The parents might have had children early (and unexpectedly), as is often the case in Latin America, and now have trouble maintaining a marriage caused more by an accidental pregnancy than through mature and prolonged feelings of love. On the other hand, there are a surprising number of families who are split for economic reasons: the man or the woman might work across the border in Chile or in the mines outside of Tacna, while the other parent is left to work in town and take care of the family. Either situation is far from ideal and certainly gives my kids more to worry about than the correct way to conjugate the past perfect simple.

Furthermore, after talking with my fellow JVs who teach at another school in Tacna, we all concluded that depressingly few of our kids have positive male role models in their lives. I´d never known so many single mothers until I came to Latin America. I´d never met someone who beat his wife until I moved to Tacna. And I felt especially grateful this Father’s Day to have such a caring and stable father, when so many of my students lack the same.

I kept all this in mind when I saw the 120 kids chanting “api.” What did I do to stop them? I could have flown into a fit and punished the entire class. I could have grabbed some more teachers to "tranquilizar" the students. I could have ignored them.

Instead, I put a big smile on my face and charged head-on into the crowd. I half-tackled the ringleader of the group and introduced him to the very American concept of a "noogie," only after picking him up and playfully throwing him in the air, in a move reminiscent of the WWF wrestling stars all these kids love so much. The kids enjoyed my antics thoroughly and only chanted “api” in a louder voice: something I interpret as a good thing.

I understand now that these kids need a male in their lives that will do more than yell at them and demand of them without reward. In short, I've learned to embrace api in all its forms, as long as it will bring me to a closer and more respectful relationship with my students. Not, I join in the api jokes when it suits me, as a self-effacing way to connect with my students.

Learn more about Dermot here.