Final Process Writing

Whew.  The three written assignments for this class have been difficult to say the least.  Narrative journalism is hard.  Good narrative journalism is harder!  In my first two pieces, I really struggled with developing the "I" character.  In my personal narrative, I had a hard time distancing myself from the story and making myself a credible, well-rounded narrator.  I assumed too much.  I definitely was writing it for the Narrative Journalism class and not for an audience that didn't know me.  In my Profile on Laura, I had a hard time inserting myself into the story and showing our shared experiences.  Out of the two pieces, I liked my "I" character better in the second piece, probably because the narrative wasn't focused on me.

When reporting for my Profiles on Laura and Jenn, I faced numerous problems.  The main problem was the distance.  We had to rely solely on Skype and phone conversations for the majority of the interviews.  Though this worked better than I expected, I really would have loved to have visited Chicago and Schaumburg to collect data.  As subjects, both Laura and Jenn were great.  Both of them are very passionate people and just talk and talk.  I found that if I just shut up and listen, I could get some really great stuff.  My second main problem was with contacting sources.  For the profile on Laura, all of Laura's friends that I wanted to interview (minus Salwa) were unreliable.  Either they would not get back to me when I contacted them for interviews or they said really unsubstantial things.  For the profile on Jenn, I desperately needed more sources and was unable to get what I wanted.  Ron was unavailable every time I tried to contact him and was traveling with business for the last week.  I think he would have really added a nice and necessary dimension to my profile on Jenn, even though he is "a man of few words."  I'm really bummed I didn't get an interview with him.

For all three pieces, the workshops helped improve my narratives immensely.  My classmates' comments were incredibly detailed and helpful.  Hearing what exactly was lacking in my story, or seeing what dimensions just didn't work, was an integral part of the revision process.  My peers gave me great suggestions on what else they wanted to know about Laura and Jenn and how exactly I could about addressing though things.  They also gave very substantial suggestions for how to make my structure better and how to make my narrative flow.  My only real qualm with the workshop groups is that they tended to be pretty much the same people every time we did workshop.  There were three or four people I had workshops with every time and some people whose feedback I never got to hear.  I would have liked the groups to have been mixed up a little bit more.

As a writer, I believe this course allowed me to experiment with an incredibly different style of writing.  It forced me to combine everything I have learned about journalism with everything I know about creative writing (which isn't a whole lot since I've unfortunately never taken a creative writing course).  I really enjoyed having more creative license.  I think also since this class was more "doing" and less "teaching," I was forced to be more critical of my own work.  While at times this could be frustrating and I would often wind up at Marin's office hours the day before a story was due, this class also pushed me to take more initiative and figure things out for myself.  One thing I realized through this course is that narrative journalism takes a lot more time than good old hard-news journalism.  I really had to get to know my subjects, spend time with them, and reflect on shared experiences to get the narratives that I wanted.  While I think Laura's story definitely benefited from the time I put into it, I wish I had had more time for Jenn's story.

Overall, I believe this course was an integral part of my writing and learning process here at K.  I think that I will be able to apply certain concepts to my SIP and will definitely be using what I've learned for coursework during my final year of college and beyond.  Thanks for a great quarter!!    

Audio/Visual Laura Bowers

Below is my audio/visual piece on Laura.  For some reason when I uploaded the video to my blog, it came out a bit blurry.  Anyway, happy viewing! 

Realities of a Muslim Convert

By Alaina Love McConnell

Photo by Crystal Costello

Intended Publication: The Chicago Tribune

Laura Bowers has completed three of her five years of a Bachelors and Masters program at Loyola University where she is majoring in Social Work.  At 18, Laura joined the Islamic community and now self-identifies as Muslim-American.  She openly embraces many facets of her new religion including its moral code, its dietary practices, and its prayer rituals, though she admits to sometimes having trouble praying before dawn on account of sleeping in.  During her free time, Laura enjoys going out to eat with friends and reading about Islam.  After graduation, she hopes to earn a Doctorate in Islamic Studies and ultimately pursue a joint career in social work and Islamic studies.

LAURA BOWERS IS sitting cross-legged on her bed.  A long, black abaya dress is hiked up around her hips, revealing a pair of faded GAP blue jeans.  Her laptop rests comfortably on her knees.  She is logged in to Facebook.

“There is an 8:40 and 9:20 showing of The Hunger Games,” she says flipping through her iPhone.  “Which one do you wanna go to?”  “8:40,” I reply, flopping down on the bed perpendicular to hers.

We are on the twenty-first floor of a Chicago high-rise apartment complex.  The one-bedroom unit Laura shares with three other young women is modestly decorated and messy with undergrad intellect.  Old notebooks and “A” papers scatter the room in frenzied disarray, while a roommate’s aversion to a chemistry class is scrawled sloppily across a whiteboard; “Orgo sucks!”  A book titled “In the Footsteps of the Prophet” by Tariq Ramadan lies lazily on the bedroom floor.

Half an hour before, Laura met me in the apartment lobby, her face flushed with excitement from having just returned from a meeting with Ta’leef, a nationally renowned organization geared toward connecting with and practicing Islam.  Momentarily, I was shocked at how visibly different my friend looked.  In the two and a half years since her conversion, this was the first time I was seeing her covered.  The girl I had met nearly four years ago during a 2008-2009 gap-year in Spain, who donned white Diesel high-tops and silk-screened Vespa jackets when we hit the Barcelona bars, could not have looked more different, more confident standing in front of me now.  She was glowing.   

Loyola’s Muslim Awareness Week of 2010 was coming to a close when Laura, then a freshman, testified her devotion to Allah.  “I was so scared,” Laura admitted.  “I kept thinking, ‘Can I even do this?  I’m white?’”

Initially, Laura said, she did not tell anyone about the conversion except her mom and a close Muslim friend, Salwa Shameem, whom she met in high school.  Although Laura grew up in an open-minded, non-practicing Christian household— her family commercially celebrated Christian holidays but not much else—she was unsure if people in her home and college communities would be accepting. “I didn’t even tell you, Fein,” she said one evening over Skype, addressing me by the nickname she coined for me in Spain.

It was true.  We were sophomores—she at Loyola and I at Kalamazoo College—by the time she nonchalantly inserted her conversion into a phone conversation. “Oh really? Cool,” I probably said, my memory flashing to moments in Spain when she struck up conversations with the Moroccan subway pick-pocketers and when she took an eleven-year-old Muslim boy who attended our school under her wing.  Her interest in Islam had been noticeable even then.  But had I ever thought she would convert?  Not really.     

   

“I was so worried for her,” Salwa said, thinking back to when Laura first expressed interest in converting.  “I told her, ‘Laura, you don’t need to rush this.’”  But Salwa remembered that Laura was adamant, which could suggest that her mind was already made up long before voicing her thoughts aloud.

Laura’s mom, Jennifer Bowers Iwanski, and step-dad, Ron Iwanski supported their daughter’s decision.  When Laura asked her mom for her blessing before the conversion Jenn recalled, “I didn’t even think twice… I just said,  ‘Okay, well of course you have it,’” she said. 

Jenn’s daughter has big brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when she laughs.  Her wit comes naturally and she, like her mom, can easily command the attention of a room.  Laura’s five-foot, nine-inch frame supports her healthy appetite—she loves her mom’s chicken potpie— but good genes and a speedy metabolism allow her to remain slim despite her opposition to working out.  Laura’s friends and family describe her as bright and inquisitive, two characteristics that have undoubtedly fueled her journey of conversion.

Salwa recalled that in high school, Laura always asked questions about her spirituality.  “She would ask, ‘Why do Muslim women cover?’ or ‘What do you think happens when you die?’” Salwa said.  “She wasn’t so much affected by what we [Muslims] did, but why.”

The information Laura obtained from Salwa and her other Muslim friends, such as covering is about preserving modesty and not about oppression or that Earth is a temporary abode on the way to an eternal paradise, only ignited her interest in the religion.  She soon turned to the Qur’an, which Muslims believe is the literal word of God, and other religious texts to further her Islamic education.  “The more I learned, the more I realized this is how I feel in my heart,” she said.  “Consciously, there was no intention to find my faith.  It just kind of happened.”

Of all the moral codes Laura now adheres to, gossiping and backbiting were two of the habits particularly tough for her to kick.  The seventeen-year-old Laura that I remember from Spain was reining Gossip Queen of Ausiàs March High School, her Queendom challenged only occasionally by me.  Now, Laura said, if she falls back into old tendencies she must confront the subject to ask for forgiveness.  “And that’s really hard to do,” she said.  Rather, she prefers to eliminate these toxic tendencies altogether.

Laura described her reasons for converting in relatively simplistic terms.  “I just wanted a religion where the Prophets, God’s message, the Book, and Science had no contradiction among each other,” she said.

 

As a child, Laura observed religion as means to exclude or condemn people who were different.  If she tried to apply her grandfather’s practicing-Christian framework to a Jewish friend of her dad’s, for example, she became scared and hurt.  “I couldn't understand why he had to go to Hell,” she said.  The hypocrisy of “Jesus’ love” did not escape her and as she grew, her angst was replaced by skepticism.  She became wary of an obtuse God who ostracized non-believers.        

When she began hanging out with Muslim kids at school, her entire outlook on religion changed.  Her friends taught her how in Islam, God judges a person based on one’s actions, character, and heart.  “Having friends of all faiths and of all backgrounds, [that’s] really important,” she said. 

Since her conversion in 2010, Laura has grappled with her perceived and projected identities, trying to find a balance that gratifies both internal and external acceptance.  The dissonance between these identities, particularly in a Western, image-based society, is powerful and unaccommodating.   “There is no cultural context for a person like me,” she said.

By no means is this disharmony solely perceived by Laura.  When she and I went to dinner and to see The Hunger Games, for example, the response the pair of us received from fellow subway riders, waiters, and ticket collectors was startling.  Everywhere we went we perplexed people.  What are these two doing together? I imagined people whispering.  Who is the mysterious covered woman and who is the blonde in skinny-jeans?  We were observed and then probably dismissed, unable to be placed within accepted social frameworks.  

Laura once described to Salwa her reality as a pendulum, swinging back and forth between personal extremes, working to find a comfortable, middle ground.  On one extreme, she is the fresh-faced convert who tried to simultaneously embrace physical and spiritual transformation when she had still not completely come to terms with either. 

“One day, I just went down to the cafeteria wearing a hijab,” Laura said.  She recalled that the friends she was supposed to meet that evening for dinner decided to sit elsewhere once they saw what she was wearing.  “A girl yelled at me that wearing a hijab was oppressive.  [Another friend] told me that he didn’t want to sit with covered Muslims.  I had just converted,” Laura said.  “I wasn’t ready for all that.  I wasn’t ready to debate.”

On the other side of the pendulum, she struggled with the skepticism and confusion of others, even by those closest to her.  A heated discussion with her mom about the hijab, for example, compelled Laura to stop covering for an entire summer.  “In my mind, I thought she was so feminist and so strong of a woman that she would never want to wear the headscarf,” Jenn said.  “I didn’t understand what the headscarf was all about.” 

As Laura contemplated the conundrums of the female, American-Muslim convert and tried to find spaces of inclusivity, other demons jumped out from Chicago’s dusty closets.    

 “I think people perceive her as Middle Eastern,” Salwa said.  “People naturally associate wearing hijabs with being an Arab-Muslim.”  Laura’s dark hair and light complexion compel people to make all sorts of assumptions about her; from thinking she’s a fair-skinned Jordanian to concluding that English cannot possibly be her native language. 

While at times appearing to be non-white can be stressful, even alienating, the hijab grants Laura access into some of the most intimate circles of minority communities.  When attending Muslim events or hanging out with students of color she said, “I get to hear stories now that they would have never shared with me had they not assumed that I was a part of their group…It gives people a level of comfort to know that I am being labeled the same as they are.” 

This acceptance into minority communities can be described as a type of “reverse otherization” one in which she, the white girl, finally “gets it.”  “Probably one of the most transformative experiences [of my conversion] is that all of a sudden I am treated like a woman of color,” she said. 

As someone perceived as both white and non-white, Laura has taken on the role of stereotype breaker.  For example, she works to promote the differences between religion and culture. Just as other religious communities span multiple geographic regions, have ties to various cultures and practices, and have no one, concrete system of values, Muslims also cannot be defined to only one sphere of existence or way of living.  This distinction can be useful when considering the role and treatment of Muslim women.

 

“I think everybody has this idea that Muslim women are oppressed and that they are not allowed to have personalities and opinions and passions.”  That’s not what the religion is about, she said.  Study of the Qur’an reveals that Islam promotes gender equality, from its creation tales of Adam and Eve, to advocating for equal education, work, and money, to giving Allah both male and female characteristics.  

    

The cultures that do tolerate oppression are “enforcing practices that do not exist in Islam and are antithetical to Islam,” Laura said.  “And that makes me furious and also really sad because the community is only breathing with one lung when its women are oppressed.”

What is more, Laura explained, covering does not reflect male control or voiceless women.  Wearing a hijab is a choice made by a practicing Muslim woman and centered on preserving the modesty and the integrity of the female body.  In many regards, covering is an assertion of power by women to reclaim their bodies and reject notions of sexual objectification.  It encourages men—who also observe modesty requirements— and women to focus on one’s actions, character, and intelligence, rather than one’s outward appearance. Laura, like other hijabis find covering to be liberating. 

Since 2001, Islamic conversion rates in the United States have skyrocketed, with three in four converts being women.   “After 9/11 Islam has been on center stage and everybody wants to know what is Islam?  Who are these terrorists?  Who are Muslims?” Laura said.  “So people look into it expecting to find these horrible terrorists and they come out finding themselves.  I think 9/11 has only increased the opportunity for learning and dialogue," she said. 

While Life as a female Muslim-American in a post 9/11 world is complex at best, Laura has never regretted her decision to convert.  In recent months, the swing of the pendulum has slowed to an occasional twitch, goaded more by cultural discrepancies than inner unrest.  At twenty-one, she understands her purpose in life as learning about God by compassionately serving His creation.   “Islam, for me feels like I have discovered the truth,” she said.  

The Events of October Response

Gail Griffin's The Events of October has provoked a physical response from me both times I've read it.  The first time, over Spring Break, I had to literally put the book down every few pages to grapple with and attempt to digest it's content.  It made me shudder, lock myself in my room and cry, and feel sick to my stomach.  The second time I read the book, I was back on the Kalamazoo College campus and everything looked different.  For the last week, I have had a knot in my stomach that seems to tighten every time I walk by DeWaters,  or Maggie's beautiful dogwood tree, or even when I go to the cafeteria.  The story of Neenef and Maggie is everywhere I look on this campus.  This book has literally shaken how I experience "K" now.  Particularly in the context of Noah K's suicide last year, I can't help but think how tragedy can sweep like a shadow over our small community.
In terms of production, Gail's book has taken narrative journalism to an entirely new level.  She combines story, memory, interpretation, and lived experience to recreate an incredibly emotional retelling of the events of one October night in 1999.  I particularly admired her use of the "I character," inserting herself when necessary but humbly backing off to tell the larger story.  She did not use her personal experience to dictate or recreate the story, rather her experience supplemented the stories and realities of others.  This book was incredibly moving.  I am very much looking forward to our discussion in class today.
Some questions I hope we can address are:
1)  How did the author navigate the emotional challenges of producing this book?  What was it like to speak to Maggie's family and friends?  Who was willing to talk and who wasn't?  How did the author separate or compartmentalize her own emotional experience to effectively write this text?
2) What was Maggie's family's response to the book?  Her friends?
3) Who are the audiences for this text?  How can various readers experience this story differently?

Explanatory Narrative Pitch

After reporting and writing about my friend Laura these last few weeks, I have found myself becoming more and more intrigued with the Islamic movement in the United States.  For my explanatory narrative, I am proposing to write a piece on the increasing popularity of this religion among young people in the United States.  By doing online research, speaking with Professor Anderson of the Religion Department, and talking to Muslim students here at Kalamazoo College, I plan to look at the root reasons for an increased interest in Islam in a post 9/11 climate.

Some questions I hope to address are:

1) Why has youth interest in Islam increased?
2) What factors play a central role in its growing popularity?
3) Who are the primary converts?
4) How has 9/11 changed Muslim/American relations in the U.S.?

Finkel and Boo Reading Response

I thought both pieces, The Marriage Cure and New America Foundation, were interesting examples of explanatory journalism and can easily be used models for what to do and what not to do in our own pieces.  The use of vivid description and imagery made Boo's piece come alive for me and gave me a good sense of who and what Kim and Corean are.  I loved the physical descriptions of both women--Corean with her dark red lacquer nails and pumps and Kim with her "ripe" body and gold lamé thong.

I appreciated the smooth transitions throughout this piece and liked the integration of background with present day and future.  This is something that I am personally struggling with in my profile piece and am hoping take some lessons from Boo.  

While this piece is incredibly well researched, it seems that there is an inherent class and racial divide between the author and her subjects.  Unlike, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc who I felt was too connected with her subject Boo, on the other hand, didn't seem to connect enough.  Being the epitome of one of those "normal, 'wealthy'" ladies that Kim and sometimes Corean strive to be, Boo was automatically disadvantaged from having legitimate connection with the two women.

In light of last week's conversation about effective leads, I have to admit I had to re-read Finkel's lead (of Part 1) several times to decide if I liked it or not.  Ultimately, I decided that it made me feel uneasy due to his use of foreboding as an opener and his chronological recount of democratic experimentation in Yemen that followed.  Perhaps this is the effect he wanted, though I wonder if making a reader feel uncomfortable right from the beginning is a good tactic or not.  However, it made me keep reading so I guess, ultimately, it was effective. 

Finkel's use of sources and attribution in this piece is admirable.  It is evident that he has a vast series of networks within the U.S. and Yemen governments and that they are effectively used in each one of his three segments.  

Another interesting point to consider is the somewhat hidden descriptions we get of Madrid.  Though this piece mostly focuses on her professional side, Finkel cleverly inserts small tidbits of descriptive details about her personal life that make her instantly more relatable.  I think tactic keeps the focus on her as a political and professional figure, yet makes her story more readable for a larger audience. 

Auperlee Reading Response

In general, I thought that Aaron's pieces were straightforward and well-reported.  It was obvious in the Grass Lake Teens piece, for example, that he spent a lot of time with the two boys and their families to really get to know them and their stories.  Aaron made his readers feel compassion for the teens and invested in their triumphs and failures.  His attention to detail and imagery in this piece and in the Life on Chittock article really stood out to me and allowed me to connect with the people in his stories.  Specifically, the section about Wanda Jordan and her grandchildren was very effectively described and the part about a child's distinct screams was both humorous and telling.  I really liked watching and listening to the audio/visual segment that accompanied this piece in particular but wish that Aaron had captured the charismatic quality of Edward's voice through his writing as well.  While all three stories mostly followed "good" journalistic form and were interesting to read, I found myself questioning whether the Mother Beat Cancer article wasn't pointing to some larger issues that ultimately go unaddressed.  For example, does the situation of this one family allude to a critique of the American housing, healthcare, and jail systems?  Or, is this story really just about one mother's love for her family?  I almost felt like Aaron hadn't quite gotten to the heart of the story in his reporting but was on deadline and had to file the story as it was.  It was really exciting to read a "K" graduate's work and see his name in print!

Captive Audience Response

I loved how multi-layered this piece was.  Though the piece focused on the kidnappings, I liked how the underlying story brought out the importance of radio through radio.  I think it was much more clever and effective to have this piece told as an audio segment rather than as a visual or written piece because we got to see how important radio was to the prisoners.  

I thought that the Spanish in the piece was a great addition.  It was so heartbreaking to hear the real recordings of the messages sent out to missing family members.  I can see, however, how the mixing of the two languages could become distracting or even alienating for someone who doesn't speak Spanish.  Had I not been able to understand it, I would have felt like I was missing huge chunks of vital information.  This makes me wonder, then, who is the intended audience?

I definitely think that it is appropriate that Viviana's story is left unresolved.  It only strengthened the point that many family members don't end up coming home and leaves the audience wondering about this young girl's father.  We've become invested in the story and when it doesn't resolve, I think it makes the realities of the kidnappings in Colombia all the more devastating and impacting.

The French Fry Connection Response

I thought it was clever how the author of The French Fry Connection used the potato industry to track the larger issue of the Economic Crisis in Asia and it's effects in the United States.  I think Richard Read effectively illustrated how complex the production and maintenance of this product is and how there is an entire international force behind each batch of fried spuds.  Having visited McDonald's restaurants in both China and Japan, it was interesting learning about the context and history of french fries in these countries.  One difference that I noticed with the french fries and other McDonald's food items in Eastern countries is that they tend to take on an Asian twist.  For example, I've seen french fries and burgers accompanied by soy and sesame products instead of ketchup and mustard.  It would have been neat to have Read identify some of these differences and talk about how a product as generic and "American" as a french fry can take on distinct cultural characteristics and appeal to people around the world.

I thought it was also interesting that Read decided to make The French Fry Connection a three-part series.  After reading all three sections, I wondered if it wasn't a bit long and, at times, repetitive.  I almost feel like he could have combined the pieces into one longer narrative.  That way, the author wouldn't have to assume that the reader has certain background knowledge when reading each section and he wouldn't have to make his writing repetitive.  Overall, I really enjoyed reading this series and thought the author had an insightful, creative approach to narrating and analyzing the french fry industry both domestically and abroad.  

Profile Rough Draft Process Writing

Ahh.  This piece has been so difficult for me to write, yet so, so great to report.  I have seriously loved every minute of learning about my best friend.  Our interviews have been nothing like any interview I have ever conducted before.  They are hilarious.  They are heartbreaking.  They all full of inside jokes and profanity and food!  Only Laura would chomp away on some kind of microwavable pasta dish while we chat charismatically about her Islamic life, then shoo away her roommates because she's having "a formal interview."  Ha!  It's also been lovely to talk to her mom about the conversion and hear her side of the story.  What's crazy is that Jenn opened up to me more than I could hope for and shared an intensely personal version of how the conversion effected her job, her personal life, and her mental health.  It's a story that I doubt Laura knows.  If I could, I'd love to write another profile, just on Jenn during the conversion period.  She gave me some really fascinating stuff that just doesn't have a place in a profile on Laura.  The reasons why this piece has been so hard to write are A) I have SO much information and B) I want to do justice to this story.  I want to tell the story well and tell it for my friend.  I feel that there is so much personal investment in this piece that it's almost giving me writer's block.  I think that I need to decide what I really want this story to be about and then I'll need to go through all of my notes more thoroughly and nix the parts that are excessive or irrelevant to my story.  I'm so excited to keep reporting and writing this piece though.  I know it's it pretty poor shape at the moment, but I really do have high hopes for it once I figure out my direction a bit more.  

Profile Rough Draft

Here is my rough draft of my profile on my friend Laura.  I have a lot of information (some of it hasn't even been included yet, like the interview with her mom), but I am having trouble organizing it all into a cohesive narrative.  As readers, if you could help me decide what's important and what exactly you want to know/take away from the piece, it might help me to decide what to nix and what to fix :)  Thanks!

Title: TBA

LAURA BOWERS WAS sitting cross-legged on her bed.  A long, black abaya dress was hiked up around her hips, revealing a pair of faded GAP blue jeans.  Her laptop rested comfortably on her knees.  She was logged in to Facebook.

“There is an 8:40 and 9:20 showing of the Hunger Games,” she said, flipping through her iPhone.   “Which one do you wanna go to?”

“8:40,” I replied, flopping down on the bed perpendicular to hers.

We were on the twenty-first floor of a Chicago high-rise apartment complex.  The one-bedroom unit Laura shared with three other girls was modestly decorated and messy with undergrad intellect.  Old notebooks and “A” papers scattered the room in frenzied disarray, while a roommate’s aversion to a chemistry class was scrawled sloppily across a whiteboard; “Orgo sucks!”  An enormous book titled “The Oxford History of Islam” lay lazily on the bedroom floor.

Half an hour before, Laura had met me in the apartment lobby, her face flushed with excitement from having just returned from a meeting with Ta’leef, a student organization at Loyola University geared toward connecting with and practicing Islam.  Momentarily, I was shocked at how visibly different my friend looked.  The girl I had met nearly four years ago during a 2008-2009 gap-year in Spain, who donned white Diesel high-tops and silk-screened Vespa jackets when we hit the Barcelona bars, now stood in front of me fully covered, expect for her face and hands.  The girl was glowing.

Just months after our return from Spain and as a freshman at Loyola, Laura converted to Islam, originally telling no one except her mom and one close friend.  “It’s not something I wanted to spread around,” she said.  “I was so afraid of people’s reactions."

In our post 9/11 climate, it's not hard to understand Laura's apprehension.  “After 9/11 everybody wanted to know what is Islam?  Who are these terrorists?  Who are Muslims?  What is all this?” Laura said.

In part, these questions fueled Laura’s own search for Islamic knowledge.

“Laura always used to ask me questions about my spirituality,” said Salwa Shameem, one of Laura’s close friends.  “She would ask, ‘Why do Muslim women cover?’ or ‘What do you think happens when you die?’ She was always asking questions which really speaks to her character.”  However, Salwa recalled that Laura’s questions were always focused on the reason for doing something and not necessarily the action itself.  “She wasn’t so much effected by what we (Muslims) did, but why,” Salwa said.  The reasons behind not eating pork, not drinking, and why we covered ourselves were so much more important for Laura than the acts themselves, she said.

The conversion took place at a banquet dinner at the end of Loyola’s Muslim Awareness Week in 2009.  “I kept thinking, ‘I’m white, can I even do this?’” Laura recalled.  However, the attendees of the ceremony supported Laura with hugs and smiles as she stood up in front of a podium and publically accepted the Islamic God into her heart by declaring: “I testify that there is no God but God and that Muhammad is His last witness.”  Afterward, shouts of “Allah wak-bar! God is great!” reverberated throughout the room, she said.  “I felt nervous and scared,” she said.  “But I knew my heart that I had done the right thing.”

The support Laura received from the Muslim community that night, however, could not stand in sharper contrast to the reactions of some of her friends and acquaintances immediately following her conversion and even now, two and a half years later. Many people are offended and angry at the image of a covered Muslim woman, Laura said.  There are so many people who are misinformed and don’t understand what covering really means, she said.

“I think everybody has this idea that Muslim women are oppressed and that they are not allowed to have personalities and opinions and passions.  It’s not like that at all."

My friends at Loyola only saw my physical transformation, Laura continued.  “They didn’t understand the internal transformation that went along with the external one,” she said.   “One day, they just saw me come down to the cafeteria wearing a hijab.”

Laura recalled that the friends she was supposed to meet that evening for dinner decided to sit elsewhere once they saw what she was wearing.  “A girl yelled at me that wearing a hijab was oppressive.  [Another friend] told me that he didn’t want to sit with covered Muslims.  I had just converted,” Laura said.  “I wasn’t ready for all that.  I wasn’t ready to debate.”

In the following months, Laura consistently struggled with her identity, at times wearing the hijab proudly, others times, removing it completely.  Salwa remembered how Laura had trouble identifying as both an American and a Muslim.  It didn’t help that others tended to perceive her differently, depending on how she was dressed.

“I think people perceive her as Middle Eastern,” Salwa said.  “People naturally associate wearing hijabs with being an Arab-Muslim.  Someone’s outward appearance automatically effects how they are perceived.”

Laura described a time when she went to lunch with her dad in Schaumburg, the suburb of Chicago where she was raised.

“We walked in and my old “lunch mom” was there.” (A lunch mom, Laura explained, was the mother of a classmate who helped out during the lunch period in elementary school.) 

“She didn’t say anything,” Laura continued.  “But she didn’t have to. She went out of her way to stare daggers and was just so appalled and offended that a covered, oppressed, Muslim woman would have the audacity to walk into this Schaumburg diner.  I was I sitting there like, you don’t even know who I am.  You were my lunch mom and I was your favorite and everyone knew that I was your favorite student.  I didn’t say anything and I didn’t tell her who I was. But someone who I had such good memories of, someone who I thought was such a sweet, older woman, was just this hateful, violent, angry person who wanted nothing but harm for me because of the way I was dressed.” Laura said that this isn’t the first time she has felt this way.  

“People will just stare and whisper,” she said.  “And you can tell they are making comments about the men I am with. Like I can tell that they assumed that my dad is my husband because I am a young, covered Muslim woman and he is just this older man who had snatched that up without my consent. It a really disgusting feeling and you can’t say anything.  You can’t just launch into a speech about Islam.  People don’t want to hear it.”   

There is so much more I'm planning to say with this piece.  Specifically I want to include:

-more about her childhood/upbringing

-more about her family

-more concrete scenes in which she has experienced racism/sexism

-maybe adding in how her conversion changed my relationship with her (if it's relevant) 

What else do you (my readers) want to know?

This Must Be The Place Response

This series of videos makes me so excited to do the audio/visual piece!
I thought that the use of audio in these pieces was really expertly done.  The filmmakers did a great job of combining music, natural sounds, and speech to effectively tell a story.  I thought the audio in the Hill piece was particularly effective and I liked how at the beginning we heard the voice before we saw the speaker.  Like RadioLab, these pieces illustrate how powerful the voice of a subject can truly be.  Furthermore, the music made the transitions smoother and, overall, made the pieces more engaging and interesting.
The pacing of the four pieces is also something important to consider.  I think that with audiovisual the pace of a piece can afford to be slower than with just plain writing.  In Byun, for example, the filmmakers combine slow, long shots of the busy, cluttered room with more melodic music.  This effect works to make watchers less overwhelmed by the complete chaos of the artistic presentation.
However, while they work really well as audio/visual pieces, I have to wonder how well the text would work on its own.  As compelling at the text is, I do believe in these four videos the sounds and pictures are really quite complementary.  So complementary, in fact, that the text might seem a bit quite weak without them.  Thoughts?

The Most Dangerous Gamer Response

I loved this piece and thought it was a fascinating read despite being a "non-gamer."  I think Clark carefully crafts his narrative to speak to those of us who know nothing about gaming while simultaneously reaching out to a more informed gaming audience.  He does this, I think, by weaving historical narrative with contemporary story-telling techniques to create an easy-to-navigate profile that highlights both the game creator and his games.
I particularly loved Clark's in-depth descriptions of both Braid and The Witness and, with the help of the video, could really visualize how intellectually and creatively different Blow's approach to game creation really is.  I also enjoyed the background information about Blow.  Clark's looks into the past let us glimpse the child "computer nerd" and helped illustrate Blow's metamorphous into renowned video game creator.
One thing that I think comes across in this piece, however, is Clark's awe of Blow.  While in some ways this benefits the piece, such as in the ways he describes how his kind of work has never been done before, in other ways it hinders the piece.  Blow obviously has a troubled and somewhat dark past, yet Clark does not fully uncover it nor does he reveal the secret self that Blow has incorporated into Braid.  I was kind of hoping that Clark would dig up the dirt on Blow and talk, for example, to his estranged family members or figure out who this "princess" is and talk to her.

Final Draft- Personal Narrative

Intended Publication: NYT Lives

Title: Unexpected Acceptance

I awoke with a start.

The neon hands of the bedside clock glowed eerily into the darkness.  3:16am.  I rolled over and willed myself to fall back asleep.  It was no use.  Jetlag tugged me into consciousness and my mind began to race.

Goosebumps coated my skin as I pushed back the covers and shuffled into the kitchen of our small, three-person apartment to start a pot of tea.

It was cold for October in Morioka.  Any day now, we could expect a snow-capped Mount Iwate, my parents had recently said, both pointing to the impressive silhouette of Japan’s second largest volcano which was visible from our apartment window.

After my tea was ready, I poured myself a generous cup, allowing the steam to swirl around my face.  It reminded me of the onsen, or volcanic baths, we visited the day before.  I longed for the serenity of the baths now, sitting wide-awake in nervous anticipation of my first day at Morioka Dai-Ichikou high school.

I finished my tea quickly and despite the early hour, pulled on my starchy, blue uniform.  At seventeen, this was my first time wearing a uniform to school.  My parents said it would help me fit in with my classmates, but I was not too sure.  My broad-shouldered frame surpassed all Japanese female size charts, requiring me to order a specially tailored uniform blazer and my size ten feet forced me to visit the men’s section for uniform shoes.  Paired with my five-foot nine-inch stature, blonde hair, and blue eyes, I was sure “fitting in,” at least physically, was pretty much out of the question.   

However, fitting in was never my strong suit.

In elementary school, kids made fun of me for bringing rice balls for lunch instead of peanut butter sandwiches and thermoses of green tea instead of boxed JuicyJuice.  In later years, these same kids teased me for dressing up as a geisha for Halloween.

“Don’t you know that geishas aren’t prostitutes?!  They are respected!” I yelled, hurling handfuls of Reese’s Pieces at the jeerers.  They laughed. 

Life went on. 

By the time I reached high school, I began to think critically about my white, middle-class peers who taunted me and, by extension, the academic institution that we all attended.  I dreamed of breaking away from Wooster High School’s stifling, Republican landscape to expand my education.  My classmates’ interest in Prom and the latest Gossip Girl did little to hold my attention during those long years of high school.  That’s why, when my dad was offered a position with Earlham College as the Japan Study Abroad Coordinator in the fall of 2007, I was eager to go along.

But today, the reality of what I was getting into hit home: I had little means of communication and I was visibly different.  What was more, the oddities that my American peers had mocked growing up were not so odd in Japanese culture.  Almost overnight, my strangeness was normal and my normality could surely be considered strange. 

As I entered the schoolyard, on that first day of class, I straightened my blazer.  My heart pounded in my chest.

A kind-faced English teacher greeted me at the entrance the moment he saw my blonde head bobbing in a sea of black.  He guided me down a wide hallway to a door on the left.  He pushed it open and time seemed to stop. 

Thirty pairs of eyes instantly shifted from an early morning assignment to fixate on me.  I turned toward them mechanically, looking into the faces that looked intently into my own.

I mumbled some memorized lines in Japanese: Hajimemashite.  Alaina desu.  Dozo yoroshiku. Onegaishimasu.  Then, my cheeks as red as Kyoto cherry blossoms, I rushed to a desk toward the back where I sat in silence for the remainder of the morning classes.

All too soon, a tinny, unwelcome ring sounded throughout the room: the lunch bell, every new kid’s worst nightmare.  I pretended to look busy, intentionally adjusting and readjusting my materials in my new, navy blue satchel.  Slowly I looked up as a classmate approached. 

She stammered in broken English, “You…like… ‘High School Musical’?” 

In that instant, my two worlds collided with such force I was left breathless.

The white, middle-class brand I thought I was leaving behind had actually slinked along, following me like a shadow.  Here, in this Japanese classroom, I was that girl.

I wrestled momentarily with my response. 

Maybe I could be that girl, if just for the lunch hour. 

"I love 'High School Musical.'" I replied.

The girl smiled and beckoned me to join her and her friends. 

As I approached their table, I couldn't help but match her grin: the girls had all brought thermoses of green tea.

Reading Response, Week 4

This week's reading, "Telling True Stories," was a nice followup to last week's "Writing for Story."  I really enjoyed the collage of stories, tips, and experiences offered by this text and felt that they provided a more well rounded view of the story telling trade.  While Franklin's book covers a wide variety of topics and offers some extremely helpful advice, I preferred having the opinions of numerous notorious writers all in one place.  It was helpful for me to read entries by writers clamoring for one particular style or technique and having those essays immediately followed by opposing styles or techniques.  One example that stood out to me begins on page 39 with Anne Hull's "Being There."  Her advice on where to go, what places to visit, and how to be present as a reporter was very enlightening.  Not being religious, I wouldn't have thought to visit a church in the community that I am reporting on, for example.  However, reading Louise Kiernan's "Not Always Being There" directly after offered a nice juxtaposition and reminds us that reporters really have to use their gut to decide when we should intrude and when we shouldn't.

The reading in "Telling True Stories" gives helpful context when reflecting on the other short stories for this week, "Trina and Trina," by Nicole LeBlanc and "The American Man at Age 10," by Susan Orlean. While these two stories were both great fun to read, it's interesting to look at how different the pieces really are.  The writers tell their stories in such contrasting ways, with such different styles, characters, and voices.  The way each author choose to insert herself (or not) in specific scene also caught my attention.  When thinking about how to place myself in the profile we are writing next week, I think that it will be very helpful to revisit both of these stories.  

Profile Pitch

For my Narrative Journalism Profile I am proposing to write about my friend, Laura Bowers.  During her freshman year at Loyola Univeristy, Laura, a white-middle class girl from a suburb of Chicago, converted to Islam.  She now attends regular religious seminars, wears a hijab daily, and wants to become one of North America's first female Islamic scholars.  This girl, who I first met in Spain, who used to split beers and hotdogs with me on Barcelona boardwalks, now doesn't drink, doesn't eat pork, and doesn't date.  Everyday this white girl, who used to be at the top of American social hierarchy, now faces blatant racism and sexism.  People ask her if she's from Morocco, Jordan, and Lebanon.  She says, "No.  I'm from just outside of Chicago."  She has faced criticism from her white friends.  She has lost friends.  She has fought with her family.  She has been accepted by her family.  This girl is my best friend and there is a huge part of her life that I want to understand better.

While I don't exactly know where this story is going, I feel a story is just waiting to emerge.  Some potential points of conflict that I hope to address include:

1. Her decision to convert. WHY??
2. How did her decision change her relationship with her friends and family?
3. Racism.
4. Sexism.
5. What is her role in society?  How does it point to larger issues?
6. Why did she keep her conversion a secret?
7. What is my experience in relation to her conversion?
8. Why now?
9. Cultural/religious practices.
10. Stereotypes.
11. Education.          

Personal Narrative Outline

Final Outline-

Complication: Alaina seeks acceptance

Development:

            1. Anxiety encumbers Alaina

            2. Change troubles Alaina  

            3. Alaina embraces change

Resolution: Alaina finds acceptance

Rough Draft Outline-

Complication: Alaina seeks acceptance

Development:

            1. WHS suffocates Alaina

            2. Dissimilarities trouble Alaina

            3. Alaina welcomes change

Resolution: Alaina finds acceptance

Wonder Town Response

What really worked well in this piece is the author's use of description to make readers really feel the music.  His imagery and jarring details actually had me cringing in my seat in both disgust and awe.  I think Cam and Jordan are exactly right in saying that the author can effectively describe the music experience in non-music related terms.  Specifically, lines such as "The feeling was a little like being held hostage in a room with someone who refuses to turn on the lights," or, "... broken open garbage bags of noise ..." really grabbed my attention and gave me concrete images and sounds to hold onto.
While I think, ultimately, his audience is relatively specific, I don't think he alienates those of us who don't so readily identify with this type of music or music history.  He combines music fact with narrative to produce a cohesive, fairly easily-to-navigate piece of text.  I enjoyed learning about the history of this particular band, this genre, as well as the author's own experience of attending a Sonic Youth concert.
One of my concerns with this piece, however, is that toward the middle the author seemed to lose his authoritative voice.  Specifically, when he places himself into the narrative I felt like the tone of the piece switched from a polished, music savvy reporter writing a profile to more of an amateur, Sonic Youth groupie writing a concert review for a high school newspaper.  This switch in voice is really the part that confused me the most.  Did anyone else have a similar reaction or did the author seem to have a consistent, grounded voice throughout the entire piece?

Shooting an Elephant Response

For a text to be considered "creative non-fiction" it must, first and foremost, be factually sound.  While the author may shape the piece to read more like a work of fiction (hence the creative part of the name), the text's main objective is to inform its readers in a factually accurate manner.  George Orwell's "Shooting an Elephant" does just that.  Orwell combines fact with creative narrative to effectively tell a true story.  When reflecting on Ellen's questions (do we actually think Orwell shot the elephant and does it really matter) I believe yes, Orwell did shoot the animal and yes, it does matter.  

For me, breaching the rules of non-fiction by inventing a time, place, or event is comparable to breaking an academic honor code.  The breacher automatically loses the trust of those who are most important to their success (for students it is their professors, deans, and fellow students; for writers it is their editors and readers).  When an author loses the trust of his/her readers, it is almost impossible to gain it back.  

I can't help but think of the case of James Frey, author of the national bestseller "A Million Little Pieces."  Frey initially sold his story as true, gaining the respect and sympathy of millions of people.  It was later discovered, however, that not all of his story was actually factual, and his blatant dishonesty caused a major uproar across the nation. (Oprah even called him out on national television.)
As a reader who has been deceived, I believe it is incredibly important for writers to properly identify the genre of their writing and to remain faithful to it throughout the entirety of the text.  Though I suppose nobody can know for sure if Orwell really did shoot the elephant, I would like to believe that he honors himself, his work, and his readers enough to tell the truth.  

Emergence Response

Oops!  Accidently posted this on Emily's page and not on my own.  Here is my response to Emergence:

As someone who doesn't really listen to a lot of radio news, I found this piece quite interesting. One thing that really stood out to me is radio's capability to literally capture the voice of the interviewees. In some ways I think that hearing the voice of a source can effectively portray their emotion and depth of knowledge in ways that written journalism cannot.

I found that the sound effects generally significantly contributed to setting the scene and giving the piece audible context. However, it makes me wonder if this piece were scripted, how a writer would choose to capture those sounds with words. There were a few instances though, when I found the sounds to detract from the piece rather than add to it. At times they took the attention away from the speaker or were excessively played. (Specifically the repeated use of the word "coffee" or the singing around minute 45.)

The main question that I took away from the piece was, how does order assume from disorder? I think that the opening example of the fireflies was really great and provided a nice transition into the exploration of ants and bees. I also liked how the emergence of order from disorder was investigated in both natural and urban settings.

Since I believe that there are other in the class more radio savvy than I, I'm curious to hear everyone else's take on this piece and what exactly about was intriguing.  

Reading Response, Week 3

While reading "Chapter VI: Outlines" of Jon Franklin's Writing for Story, I had this strange sensation that the author was speaking directly to me.  A true fighter of outlining, Franklin seemed to call out my resistance as a measure of literary and, perhaps, intellectual weakness.  Initially offended by his pompous, cheeky declarations that all writers of merit from the last 500 years have used outlines, I found myself reconsidering his remarks once he gave some concrete, more relatable examples.  Personally, I identified with his example of a writer who sets out with a great idea but only a vague concept of where the story will actually go.  While it is easy going at first, soon the writer's progress slows, the details get confused, and the story line becomes muddled.  A stubborn writer might plow ahead for a few hundred words more, a smarter writer would realized they've been "spaghettied."  I definitely have been "spaghettied" uncountable times.

Looking back, I really do appreciate how Franklin addressed the problem of outlining.  I think he acknowledges outlining as a very basic, yet frequent problem that seems to stump young writers.  Specifically for me, outlines always seemed so daunting.  The student examples that Franklin provides, however, illustrate that outlines don't necessarily need to be complex, just well thought out.

Finally, I found this section particularly helpful and relevant in light of our Personal Narrative workshops last week.  Many of us, myself included, had problems discerning the true focus of our pieces.  We tended to start telling the story in one place, then ending up somewhere completely different.  I think we can definitely apply some of Franklin's outlining theory to our future work in this class.  By thinking through our stories ahead of time and determining what exactly we want our readers to come away with, it will make the whole writing process a lot easier.

Questions to consider:

1. Did you find Franklin's authoritative voice commanding and reassuring or disheartening and stressful?  Did he ever provoke an emotional response in you?  If so, when and what was the response? My own feelings toward him seemed to fluctuate depending on how much I related with the different topics that he addressed.

2. In the section titled "The Moment of Truth" located in Chapter VII: Structuring the Rough, Franklin swears that if a writer begins his or her story at the end, working backward to fill in the transitory and preparatory narrative, it will be a hundred times easier to write.  Have any of you ever written a story from back to front?  If so, do you find Franklin to be right?  If not, is this a tactic you are willing to try?  Why or why not?

3. This book was first published in 1986.  Do you find aspects of it outdated or irrelevant to what we know about writing for story today?  Or, are the author's points so classic and concrete that they have, in a sense, become timeless?

CYOA- Alaina and Julia

Here is our CYOA article, a profile on Jacob Zuma.

As you read this piece, consider these points:

-Does the structure work?  For example, what do you think of the lede?  How does the writer balance description with fact?  Is it easy to navigate and does it flow?

-Pay attention to the sources the writer uses in this article.  Is it well researched?  Who else should the writer have interviewed?

-How is the information presented?  What does it highlight about Zuma?  Does it give us more insight/understanding about him as a person?  As a ruler?  What does it reveal about South Africa and it's people as a whole?

-Does the author's language/stance affect how we, as readers, view Zuma and, by association, South Africa?

We look forward to your thoughts and to the discussion on Wednesday!

Process Writing- Personal Narrative

When I saw on the syllabus that our first Narrative Journalism assignment was to write a personal narrative, I expected to just coast on through.  I've always found writing about myself to be relatively easy and enjoyable and I anticipated that this essay would be no different.  Well I was wrong.  This assignment actually really perplexed me.  One of the most difficult parts was trying to pinpoint a "pivotal" moment in my life that I could recount in a short, 900-word narrative.  Even though I have had numerous turning points or Ah-ha! moments growing up, most of those moments were the product of a series of events, not just one, some even spanning months or years.  I finally decided to focus on my time in Japan after talking to my parents last weekend.  I told them about the assignment and my mom suggested that I talk about my first day of school in Japan.  After giving the essay and this particular topic some thought, I realized that she had a point.  Going to Japan at age seventeen truly marked a pivotal point in my life.  For the first time, I was immersed in a culture, language, and race different from my own.  All of the anxiety I felt (and still feel whenever I travel) could really be captured by my first day of school.  The idea of wearing a uniform and being "the same" as everyone else while simultaneously being acutely different also really intrigued me.  While I am glad that I chose this topic and decided to explore and reflect on such an important time in my life, I think my piece still has a ways to go.  Specifically, I would like to experiment with Julia's suggestion of slowing down time when I enter the classroom.  I think it would be really interesting to add in some more sensory images, detailing what I saw, heard, smelled, etc...  After the stress of deciding a topic melted away, I found myself to really enjoy writing this essay.  I am looking forward to delving deeper into this piece and play around with all the great suggestions made by my classmates.   

First Draft- Personal Narrative

Intended publication: NYT Lives

Title: TBA

I AM TRYING to relax.  I take a deep breath and then another, wishing my pulse to slow.  Onsens are a place for relaxation after all; a place where many Japanese flock to on the weekends to wash away the grime of the workweek, to soak their bodies in semi-scalding volcanic water, to turn soft and pruned, and to allow their thoughts of the looming Monday to evaporate along with the swirling steam.   

But my mind will not rest.  I feel nervous and exposed, two sensations that have surprisingly little to do with sitting completely naked in an outdoor hot spring next to several elderly Japanese women, one of whom keeps flashing me a crinkly, toothless grin.  The women appear perfectly at ease; each in a deep recline with their lined faces tilted toward the sky, their breasts peeping out of the water as it gently ebbs and flows.

Tomorrow is my first day of school at Morioka Dai-Ichikou high school in Morioka, Japan and I am terrified. 

The toothless woman senses my angst, I think.  She gives me a sly smile then slowly raises a dripping finger to the sky.  Snow.  It was coming down softly, dancing sweetly around my face before being swallowed by the heat of the hot spring.   

*            *            *            *             *

 

First Day of School in Morioka, Japan

The next morning I rise early.  Goosebumps coat my skin on this cool October day and I dress quickly in the uniform I had laid out the night before.  At seventeen, this is my first time wearing a uniform to school.  My parents say that it will help me to fit in with my classmates, but I am not too sure.  My broad-shouldered frame surpassed all Japanese female size charts, requiring me to get a specially tailored uniform blazer and my size 10 feet forced me to visit the men’s section for uniform shoes.  Paired with my five-foot nine-inch stature, blonde hair, and blue eyes, I am sure “fitting in,” at least physically, is pretty much out of the question.    

Secretly, I think my parents want to stir the pot of comfort a bit.  They want to break up the monotony of the white, small town life I had lived so far and give me the opportunity to reconnect with the country when I was born.  When my dad was offered a position with Earlham College as the Japan Study Abroad Coordinator in the fall of 2007, both of my parents encouraged me to think about accompanying him and spending part of my senior year of high school there.  I eagerly agreed.  But today, on the first day of school, that eagerness is replaced by anxiety.  My knowledge of the Japanese language consists of a toothbrush song my mom sang to me when I was little and a few words I had picked up from Hayao Miyazaki’s “My Nieghbor Totoro.”  I have little means of communication and I am visibly different.          

On the way to school, my parents jabber back and forth giving me a condensed lesson in proper Japanese social codes, rules, and norms. “Remember,” says my mom, “when you change from your street shoes into your school shoes, don’t let your socked foot touch the floor.”  “When you’re eating lunch,” my dad chimes in, “never point your chopsticks directly at anyone.”  “When a teacher enters the room,” my mom adds, “make sure you stand up, bow, and welcome him into the classroom along with the rest of your peers.”  As I enter the schoolyard, I cling to these scraps of advice for dear life. 

My introduction to my class, however, is quick and relatively painless.  I stand at the front of the room, towering over a kind, English-speaking teacher, and say a few memorized lines in Japanese.  Hajimemashite.  Alaina desu.  Dozo yoroshiku. Onegaishimasu.  To my surprise, the class breaks into applause and I feel myself turning as red as a Kyoto cherry blossom.  I rush to an empty seat near the back of the classroom and will the teacher to begin the lesson.  He does, but throughout the remainder of the morning classes, eyes from around the room are drawn to the back corner when I am sitting, quickly darting forward again when I try to make eye contact.  Could any of these be eyes of a friend? I wonder. 

Just as I begin to feel slightly more comfortable in my seat in the farthest corner, the lunch bells rings.  The lunch bell- every new kid’s worst nightmare.  I pretend to look busy, intentionally taking too much time to put away my class materials, adjusting and readjusting them in my new, navy blue satchel.  When it seems like I can no longer switch the location of my eraser from the back pocket to the front pocket one more time without looking like a total weirdo, I look up hopeful, searching for the friendly face of someone who wants to have lunch together. 

I smile shyly as one of my classmates approaches me.  She is a slight girl, with long dark hair that she sweeps gracefully over one shoulder and a smile that seems to stretch across her entire face.  In broken English she stammers, “You…like… ‘High School Musical’?”  At that moment, I automatically love “High School Musical”.  I would have loved anything that could help bridge the gap between my classmates and me.  I nod enthusiastically and she beckons me to join her and some other girls for lunch.  “I… am… Asako,” she says.  The other girls all smile when I approach them with Asako.  They chatter back and forth in fast Japanese until someone gets up the courage to say something to me in English.  Everything seems to be “High School Musical” related.  “You… like...Zac…Efron?”  “You…know…dance?”  I quickly weigh the pros and cons of confessing that I do, in fact, know some of the dances from the movie.  I decide it is safer to say that I don’t.  Asako jumps up.  “I…teach…you!”  she exclaims and immediately pulls out some stellar moves while singing “We’re All In This Together.”  Before I know it, I am laughing.  We are laughing; these Japanese girls and I are laughing together.  Coming from different cultures and unable to speak the same language, somehow we have found common ground.  In this moment I know that the rest of my first day—and perhaps the rest of my time in Morioka—will be okay.