Way Up North

I never really was much of a summer camp kid. After one bad experience at a church camp at the age of five, I always refused to be shipped off to some woodlands camp for weeks at a time. However, during my sophomore year of high school, we were given the opportunity to go with our fellow sophomores to Poly North, on paper a classic camp experience. I wasn’t all too psyched to go, but quite a few of my friends wanted to go so I begrudgingly accepted the offer.

The long bus ride out of the Los Angeles metropolis and into the forest had me worried. I had no experience in this sort of environment, so if they made me canoe or rock climb or hike or whatever else you do in the middle of nowhere, I would be clueless. When we first arrived, it was very apparent this converted YMCA camp was going to be extremely different than the traditional camp idea that was in my mind.

Before we had arrived, the staff, all seniors from Poly, had divided us into separate cabins, dispersing the different ethnic groups, academic programs, and athletic teams into mixed groups. I only knew two people in my group, and was instantly forced to mix with people that I never would have talked to at school. They just weren’t part of “my group”, ya know?

We started off the weekend by sitting in our cabins, quiet, not really sure what was going on. After a few minutes of looking around confused, our cabin leader Trey ended the silence. “Alright, I don’t care about names. Tell me every racist joke, stereotype, or demeaning fact you have ever heard about blacks.”

Wait, what? We didn’t know what to say. Is he being serious? He was African-American himself, and I surely didn’t want to offend anyone. After minutes of prodding us along, we started to slowly share our thoughts. 30 minutes later we had a comprehensive list of every African-American stereotype we had ever heard. The process was then repeated, and pretty soon we had covered Asians, Caucasians, Latinos, and Pacific Islanders. Sure, it was amusing, but what did it have to do with anything?

Trey then shared with us the purpose of this exercise. Long Beach Poly, a school that represented over 200 different ethnic groups and over 90 different languages, requires a tight-knit community to support the amount of diversity it has. By clearing the air of all the stereotypes before we met each other, we could focus on being friends with everyone, rather than sticking in our own “group”. The rest of the weekend had many similar activities, all for the purpose of breaking traditional stereotypes and strengthening the Jackrabbit community.

I didn’t get to go hiking or horseback riding like a traditional camp, but Poly North was one of the best weekends of my life. After the trip I was comfortable with everyone, no matter his or her race, age, gender, or socioeconomic background. Honestly, I would consider that one of my unique qualities, as most who attend TCU haven’t had the same diverse experience as I did. I will never forget my time at Poly North, and I will carry the things I learned about others and myself for the rest of my life.  

Foreign Territory

I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. Dropped off in a new land, the bright yellow caravan pulling away leaving me to my certain demise. As I slowly moved my stiffened legs along the path, I could feel my heart pound.  The tops of the walls are covered in barbed wire. Of course. Passing underneath the green and gold “Home of Scholars and Champions”, I took a deep breath and faced the moment I had feared for months before.

Long Beach Poly is more than just a high school. It’s a symbol, a sturdy safe haven in the notoriously dangerous downtown Long Beach area. After nine years of schooling on the opposite, more affluent side of the city, I was in shock when my parents announced I was going to Poly (which, despite the majority of the school being “ghetto”, had the best college prep program in the city). I had heard all of the stories. Poly, a school with less than ten percent Caucasians and conveniently located on the border of two notorious gangs’ territories, stirred up all sorts of rumors throughout the latter part of eighth grade. My middle school friends, most of which opted to go to the closest high school Millikan, constantly told me how I was going to get shot, mugged, jumped, and beat up every day at Poly. And of course, I just COULDN’T wear red or blue, as the only people who wore those colors were Bloods or Crips. Throughout the summer my anxiety rose, even to the point where I called my future advisor (without my parent’s knowledge) and asked if there was any way I could transfer. After all, how could a sheltered kid like me survive the same hallowed grounds that bred Snoop Dog, DeSean Jackson, and countless others?

Reppin His Roots

On that first day, I sulked around campus, scared to make myself stand out of the other 5,200 students in the crowd. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I fell in love. Poly became my home. From our badass football team to the tight knit community, I had truly found a diamond in the rough. All I had to do was give it a chance. Sure, the student population was extremely diverse. Sure, I knew people who affiliated with the Blood and the Crips. Sure, walking outside of campus wasn't always the best of ideas, especially at night. But at Poly, no one cared. It didn’t matter what was going on outside of the gates. As Sports Illustrated put it in their 2005 article, “On the outside, you may be red or blue. But once you step in the gates you are only green and gold”. Overcoming my fear of the “ghetto” is one of my proudest accomplishments, as I really loved being a part of a unique high school experience and allowing it to shape me into the person I am today. I am proud to call myself a Long Beach Poly Jackrabbit.

“Green and gold together, lose to y’all never, diss eastside forever, (where you from fool?)     Long Beach Poly."

A Chat with Hissa V2

Today I met with Hissa for our second meeting, after a few weeks of schedule changes and conflict issues. Overall, I thought it was another successful conversation session, for both her advancement of English and my understanding of Middle Eastern culture.

Just like last week, we started off by discussing how the studies have been going. She’s been busy with all of her English classes, which have all been going pretty well. Life in Texas has been pretty good for her also. The past few weekends she got to go to Dallas and Houston, and had wonderful experiences in both cities. She said she likes the big hustling downtown areas of those cities as opposed to the quiet Fort Worth downtown.  She compared it to going to Abu Dhabi and Bahrain on the weekends when she lived in Saudi Arabia, which I thought was pretty cool.

I then asked her if she’s been doing anything around campus. When she said no, I asked her if she knew about the baseball games that have been going on. It turned into fifteen minutes of me trying to explain what baseball and football actually were. After a while, I realized those sports aren’t very popular outside of the United States. She said the sports she knew the most about were cricket and soccer, which makes sense considering those sports are really popular in Europe and Asia. I find that stuff very interesting, considering how much I follow soccer in Europe. Not really beneficial to the overall conversation, but still cool.

Lastly, she then lamented her frustrations about her studies, which startled me. She said she wants to continue to develop her English, and the classes are helping her do that. But outside of classes, where most of her friends are from Saudi Arabia as well, she still finds herself speaking Arabic on a regular basis. She said she doesn’t feel like she’s making any progress in the advancement of her English. I realized how important these conversation partners truly are. Even though she is studying the language, she doesn’t get much time to practice it outside of the classroom setting. I know I never practiced Spanish outside of the classroom, and it shows in my very elementary fluency of the language. I think with practice Hissa will continue to develop her English.

Overall, I think we had another successful conversation session. I look forward to our next meeting next week.