All Kinds of People

Yesterday, I had lunch at the U.N. Well, not really, but it kind of felt that way. I was sitting outside when I introduced myself to some students, who were hanging out between classes. One boy had moved here from Brazil on a student visa just for the opportunity to study in the U.S. He smiled broadly as he told me he wanted to teach and coach soccer. English being his second language, he was taking classes in that before he started his core classes. I told him how brave I thought he was. Humble, he bowed his head as he said, "All the other countries know that the United States has the most opportunities." I nodded, silenced by how passionate he was about my country, which I fear I too often take for granted. Another boy, born in the Midwest and having moved to Texas when he still very young was a ninth generation from India. He had an American accent and attitude, as smiled easily, with his laid back attitude. He had researched his own lineage to see just how far back his Indian roots were, to discover he is a pure bred. Again, I nodded, watching all of us sitting in a circle, lucky to have a peaceful, safe place to live. The third boy had a thick Texas draw and declared he liked to shoot stuff. I laughed at his enthusiasm for hunting, admiring his sharp shooting abilities and love of the rough and rugged Texas culture. He was studying to be a veterinarian, but loved jazz and was hoping to be a full time musician. I told them I was from Ohio, that I had lived most of my adult years in Cleveland. The one boy said, "Now that is a rough place." Smiling I agreed that it sometimes was indeed a rough place to be, but that I missed home often.
There they were the future of this country, the amalgamation of every skin color, language, race, and religion. The school I work at is the perfect example of how diverse this country is and why I am so glad to live here. I see faces of every possible generation, race and creed walk up to our counter looking for answers. I see nervous Freshman, savvied upperclassman to the fearful fifty year old who recently got downsized. Even in my own department, there is every type of female, although I will tell you quite honestly, I am without a doubt the oldest. The young girls insist that I am not old, laughing with me at my dorky view point on life, but I tell them quite sincerely, I am very happy to be forty-eight and feel I have earned my place in the world. Most of my co-workers, in their twenties, are in school, studying to be something other than what they are doing now. Most are doing Work-study balancing their lives with school, trying to insure their future with education. I sit watching how smart, how funny these young women are and how they show grace under fire. I aspire to be as good at my job one day as they are.
I came home from work yesterday, feeling very happy, but tired. Since coming down with a cold, I have been slow to learn much of anything, my brain foggy, my head congested with my ears blocked. I am excited about the coming year as I grow into my position of attempting to be of some help to those students who need it. It is what I feel most grateful for lately, is that I have advocated higher learning all my life and now I am walking the walk in my professional life, too.
I can't help but feel that is this has been a divine intervention, of sorts, giving me a chance to work with the younger generation, seeing how they think, hearing their opinions, feeling very much like we as a nation will be in good hands when it is their turn to take over the world and set it on fire. The days of training are difficult, but fascinating as I get to continue learning new things in my own right. My only real hope is I have enough energy and brain cells to try and keep up.