Searching beyond borders ...

In this post, Kyra Ghosh, who graduated in 2013, writes about a topic that is at the core of this blog: the formation of identity.

As I was reading about her time in Indonesia and the impact it had on her, it occurred to me how much the formation of identity comes up in my classes. No doubt this is partly the result of my own biases, because it is a subject that has always fascinated me. Just today, for instance, in my English 11 class we were talking about how Nick Carraway, from The Great Gatsby, learns something about who he is during his three months partying with Gatsby and Jordan and those awful Buchanans. He comes to embrace his midwest roots, his family values, his “provincial squeamishness.” At the same time, it is clear to the reader that he never could have reached these conclusions about himself if he hadn’t experienced the diminished values and general messiness of life in West Egg.

Kyra didn’t spend three months living the fast life in New York, but she did spend 10 months teaching English in Indonesia. As you’ll see from her post, the situation was challenging and difficult -- but also life-changing.

Kyra attended Pitzer college for four years where she thrived. “I had an amazing group of friends and benefited from the perks of a consortium of small liberal art schools… small classes, great professor relationships, tight-knit friend groups, and larger social scenes.” After majoring in History and minoring in French, she was offered a Fulbright Scholarship teaching English in Indonesia, which she writes about below. Nowadays, Kyra is teaching 3rd graders at an all-girls school in San Francisco, where she is learning about what it means to be an educator (i.e., fulfilled but broke).

Kyra’s piece is about making intentional efforts to venture outside your comfort zone. “I wanted to write about how an expansion of perspective and embracing uncomfortable change can shift not only your mindset but also shape your identity,” she said.

- C.H.

No one ever really knows who they are in high school.

In fact, if you do, then you probably peaked in high school -- which I’ve come to learn is definitely not a good thing. I remember constantly being in a state of molding. Molding myself to adhere to different friend groups, different personas. When I was with the drama kids, I tried to be more flamboyant. I trained myself to be more “authentic.” When I was with the “popular” kids, I laughed at all the jokes no matter what. I worried too much about my appearance. I put myself in situations I am now ashamed of mentioning. I often made myself feel small.

I could feel the angst and was aware of it, but I felt quite certain that high school was just a weird period of life and as soon as it was over I would know. I would know exactly who I was, what I wanted to do, and what I was looking for in a romantic partner. I was convinced that this period of the unknown, of residing in a constant state of searching, would subside.

Then I realized one day that it wouldn’t.

I realized that I don’t think I will ever understand myself fully. This revelation actually put me at peace. I hope I don’t completely figure myself out because then I would be stagnant. I hope I am growing every day and I hope I am able to constantly question my choices, but also be truly proud of myself. However, possessing the knowledge that you may never fully understand yourself does not mean that you lack the power to shape your identity. For me, this shaping meant leaving the country….

“My home at the moment is a small room sandwiched in between classrooms at the senior public high school where I am co-teaching English classes. It is a Catholic high school called, “SMAK St. Ignatius Loyola” located in the heart of “Labuan Bajo” -- the up-and-coming growing tourist town on the island of Flores, Indonesia. The town is famous for its world-class scuba diving and nearby Komodo Islands. As far as I know, the Komodo dragons on the island are similar to the ones I’ve seen in the San Diego Zoo… except that they are about the size of an alligator and have been known to kill humans. I have yet to visit this island. The town itself is very pleasant, with a number of “Western” style restaurants, rooftop bars, sunset views and yoga. Very catered to a certain type of tourist -- the kind who I overheard in a sushi restaurant the other day saying, “Yes, don’t worry we ordered the spirulina for you from Bali, should be coming in about a week.” I would be lying if I said I didn’t benefit from the luxuries of the town, but in conclusion, tourists like to spend money here. The touristy section of the town is thriving; however, from what I have observed, the money stays insulated in a single street of tourism. As soon as you step away from the main drag, poverty ensues. I have been very curious about the local opinion of tourism. From a few questions posed at my students, I understood that people seem to be more happy than not by its presence. However, it also makes me wonder about the wealth disparity and how perhaps the growing tourism has changed not only the economy but the lives of locals. Maybe more about this later…”

This was an excerpt from a blog post I wrote about two months deep into living in a small town in Indonesia where I co-taught English for 10 months on a Fulbright scholarship. I had received the scholarship at the end of my senior year of college, and in July of 2017 I jetted across the world to call a very far away place home for 10 months. Like many college students, as senior year came around, I experienced the expected and poignant confusion surrounding the “next step.” Lo and behold I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life! However, this time I felt more comfortable recognizing that the “not knowing” was a healthy sign. I decided to avoid corporate America for a year, and explore another part of the world. As I prepared for the journey, I was very aware and sensitive to how what I was doing would be interpreted. This was no “Eat Pray Love”; this was not a vacation in Bali; this was also not some neo-imperialistic attempt to westernize Asian countries (as far as I know…) The program was very intentional about its goals and about our role as teachers and Americans. I was trained alongside a cohort of other American teachers, both in how to teach and how to interact with Indonesian culture and life. We were expected to co-teach every class with an Indonesian teacher at our schools. We were also only given a total of twenty-eight vacation days for the year; a clear sign that the program felt strongly we stayed in our placement sites for most of the year. Although we were technically employed as teachers, the program also emphasized that we were ambassadors of cultural exchange. We were expected to attend wedding ceremonies, birthdays, cultural events, dinners, etc. We were expected to give Indonesians a broader picture of life in America and were expected to receive the same from the Indonesians in our respective communities.

I think Dickens stated it best: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I experienced soul-sucking loneliness. The exhaustion which arose from heat and the language barrier made for a constant state of slight discomfort. I lived in a high school classroom and shared a wall with another classroom whose students started chattering and sometimes screaming at 6:30 a.m. My purse was ripped off of my body while I was riding a motorbike, and less than a week later I was robbed for the second time. In other words, these 10 months were by no means easy. I didn’t realize until returning to the United States how strenuous and draining many of my everyday activities were in Indonesia. I also didn’t realize how much I would profoundly yearn to be back. I began to experience a stronger sense of gratitude for living in the moment. It was something I practiced religiously for I realized that instead of resisting the discomfort I could simply feel and embrace it. I grew to completely let go of any constraints of time (although I never had a problem with that in the US either). People in my town would live their lives according to their needs in the moment. If they were hungry five minutes before school started, they would eat, and class would start late. It was liberating. I also developed some connections with people who are now etched into my identity. In some corny way, it is a beautiful realization that across culture, language, and an ocean there are just some people in the world who understand you.

As I am writing this, I am realizing that I could write a novel and still not express everything I learned and felt that year. But if you are to take anything away from reading this, please just stop reading and do something that makes you uncomfortable, something that expands your bubble, and something that challenges your perspectives. You will not regret it, and maybe you’ll understand yourself just a little more.