For almost three years I commuted back and forth to school. The drive wasn’t too long. Fifteen to twenty minutes there, and the same when returning. Near the end of the third year I was approached by a long-time friend. At that time he was working at a boarding program at an adjacent high school that is affiliated with our campus. He was graduating that semester and was seeking out candidates for his replacement.
Skeptical at first, I found out as much as I could about the position and took a tour of the premises. The job entailed taking care of a dozen international high school students; waking them up, ensuring they do their homework and chores, and looking after them when they are sick. Basically, the boarding assistants are the big brothers/mothers of the boarders.
I moved in the next week. I thought that it wouldn’t be too different from living at home, as I am the second oldest of 10 children. It would just be closer to campus. But I soon found out the differences. For one, there were no parents, so it’s much more like a fraternal group. Another difference is that each of the boys are from different countries and know English as a second language, if that. Frequently, the boys will revert back to their own language and ways of interacting. The greatest pleasure from the program was breaking through those barriers and cultivating a relationship with each one. We spent many a late night talking, playing soccer in the hallway, and watching TV.
I worked there for almost a year, having to leave the job at the start of my last semester. It was a tough decision. I loved the program, but I had to choose between it and many of the campus activities I was tied to. Ultimately, it took much more time from my schedule and had to be cut out. The “boys” had a profound affect on my life, teaching me many basic lessons in communication that I took for granted when speaking with Americans. I still keep in touch and drop by to see them every other week.
