Wozani!

 
I didn’t know what to expect from a Prescott College orientation experience. I assumed we would carry heavy backpacks, navigate through canyons, hike over boulders and in and out of forests, across deserts, sleep outdoors and cook our own food in blazing heat and frigid nights. I had even heard rumors of swimming through icy pools with backpacks on and climbing waterfalls.

Though the weather extremes were far milder than I expected, all of the rest was true. But I experienced much more during orientation than just living and traveling in desert terrain for three weeks. I found wozani.

I have spent time in the wilderness camping, hiking, skiing, kayaking, canoeing and climbing. I have taken courses at other colleges and NOLS that had students living together in the wilderness in tents or quinzhees for weeks and months at a time.

I gained valuable experience on those expeditions, and learned from and with some of the best in their fields of expertise. I made some very good friends too. But I did not discover wozani until I spent time with ten amazing people on Prescott College orientation.

            There doesn’t seem to be a direct translation to English for the Zulu word, wozani.  I think that’s fitting, because the feeling is not easy to describe in simple terms either.

Some of the best, complimentary definitions are: to come close, people together, and unity. According to Heather Moseley and Annie Wilkinson, “The expression (wozani) celebrates our collective power and common belief…it binds us together in our struggles…” (See footnote).

If you were to combine all of those definitions, you would start to come close what I experienced with my orientation group. We were miserable together. We were blissed out together. We taught each other and learned from each other. We shared our fire.

We became a collective soul that cared about the well being of the whole. We breathed our collective life into fire, and created song to celebrate our collective power, and our sounds reflected from the canyon walls, acknowledging our unity and sending us home. We entered the desert as individuals and came out of the wilderness as wozani.

I hope you find wozani on your orientation.
Matt Seats

Taking Orientation Full Circle

My 1st Orientation Family - Beaver/Clear Creek Crew 2010
Photo Credit: Sean Thomas

When scrolling through the assortment of blogs, I find myself smiling at the pictures of various individuals reflections on orientation. The stories and connections, the environment and lessons, the weather and the blisters - these moments (whether experienced on a backpacking trip, within the Prescott community, or at the life-centering base camp) create a thread of connection between current incoming students and every other incoming class since 1966 - when the college was founded. This opportunity is not only unique - it is a tradition that can connects you to the broader community the instant you meet your group.

All of the Blue Range Groups 2012
Photo Cred: Ann Marie Boutin

I remember when I first met my instructors and crew of classmates that would soon become my first Prescott College “family”. At Chauncey Ranch I stood with a group of equally uncertain new students, waiting in great anticipation to meet our instructors and classmates. A nearby trailer began to shake as silly, savage screams seeped through. Suddenly, out burst a colorful crew of instructors - dressed in brightly colored spandex and sequined capes they ran circles through the crowd. It took us a second to see that attached to the backs of the instructors were the student names. It felt like chaos, but everyone was laughing and running in the hot, dry heat. In good time, we found our instructors and settled in.

While most equate the orientation experience to ones first course at Prescott College, this past fall block my relationship with the program took a new turn. After taking a number of field courses and developing my own leadership style/skill set, I felt that I was ready to apply for a position as a student orientation instructor. A mixture of nerves and excitement flooded my being. The prospect of leading a group of students who would graduate as my peers in their first experience through the school was somewhat terrifying.

A week before the new students would arrive on campus, I walked into the chapel with my roommate (who was also leading Orientation). Vivid flashbacks of anticipation filled my system. Who would my co-instructor be? Do I have the time and systems to make sure I have all my ducks in a row so I can be the best resource possible for my students? How do I support these students and set them up for success in their first course at Prescott College??

While the anxiety never fully vanished, it was largely replaced by awe and inspiration. We first sat in the circle format and introduced ourselves. Words cannot begin to describe the beauty of this initial interaction. Each individual shared their name and why they were there. There were stories, filled with laughter, tears, and insight. The individuals who returned to the program a multitude times - after being a student, to a student instructor, to a lead instructor, to a course director, to program director. The connection this opportunity provides roots one to the environment, the community, a history worth being proud of.

My Wonderful Crew
Photo Cred: Ann Marie Boutin

From that moment on - the experience was a blur. In town training, field training, packing, re-packing, unpacking, adventuring, laughing, reflecting, adjusting, unpacking washing, writing, preparing. And then we met our students. In a room with 150 or so new students, trying to find your 10 can be minorly hectic. Our crew of “rainbows” began to sort themselves out, walking the chaos and pandemonium that came with the anticipation. You could see in their shifting eyes the anxiousness and excitement. The uncertainty and readiness.

Hanna Hot Springs - Lovely
Photo Credit: Ann Marie Boutin

Welcome to Prescott College. This will be your first “family”. We learn to love each other through the challenges provided with back country living. We will laugh, and maybe cry. We will change and transform, we will walk in creek beds and over hills that don’t resemble anyone's idea of the southwest. We will dance under waterfalls and ease our bumped and bruised bodies in the hot springs. 

This program represents a tradition of transition and transformation. It is an invaluable experience for new students. I see it now as an invaluable experience for current students. The opportunity to apply one's learning through the opportunity to facilitate one of the most magical experiences one will have at the school. To reflect and remember. To connect and create memories that will last a lifetime. Welcome to Prescott College - watch and reflect as you and your community learns, grows, and transforms.

Ah, Education
Photo Credit: Ann Marie Boutin

Choosing my competence...

When I came to Prescott College, I only knew that I wanted to make environmental change. I was a transfer student and had taken a gap year-and-a-half, so I was motivated and ready to dive into this new educational journey. At first my interest was small-scale agriculture, and thought about calling my competence “Agroecology,” but I was actually more interested in the policy-making aspect of agriculture. My first year here, I took prerequisite classes like Algebra and Writing Workshop, and took Environmental Studies classes that piqued my interest. I figured my goals would fall into place eventually, and sure enough, they did.

The class that really made me expand my horizons was Water in the West, an intensive block course that immersed me in all aspects of water issues, from ecological to political. I knew virtually nothing about water systems before this class, and have emerged a passionate Environmental Policy competence who just might have to include water policy in her future. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly my goals are, because food sustainability plays such a crucial role in our lives (and affects us at least three times a day), but water plays an even bigger role in our lives, not to mention the lives of animals. Water connects everything and everyone. But how could I not also try to combat climate change? I kind of just want to do everything and change the world.

Many Prescott College students conserve fuel and water as much as possible, and do an amazing job of reducing their personal footprint. But unfortunately, the majority of Americans don’t even think about the ecological consequences of their actions, and that is why I am of the belief that we need policy to help get us all on the same page. Policy isn’t the only answer – individual responsibility and education are part of it – but in order to enact real, large-scale change, we need some major upheavals, and most people won’t go along with it without incentive. I’m talking large-scale – all the way from drilling less, eliminating fracking, and reforming the farm subsidies – to how the city of Prescott offers a financial incentive for taking out your lawn, or installing low-flow appliances.

Every bit counts, but the small bits are easier… we have to deal with the big bits, too. And that’s why I’m an Environmental Policy competence: I believe that some large-scale environmental policy is necessary, and I want to be a part of that change. I don’t know whether that will involve agriculture, water, something else or everything at once, but making change is what I’m passionate about, and I feel that Prescott College is the perfect place for me to prepare myself for that future.

 

Ruby Teegarden 2/28/13

Who Inspires You?

I grew up poor, multiethnic, female and lived in City Heights (and under-developed, “ghetto” neighborhood in San Diego, CA). For my younger years, I went to inner-city public schools where all of the minority teachers taught under a white principal and extra curricular programs were sparse. But still, we were a happy group of minority youngsters…always happy for the chance of a field trip and class party. The teachers I had in elementary were exceptional and knew how to interact with a bunch of inner city kids. For middle and high school my parents had me on a waiting list that secured my admittance into a predominantly white middle and high school, where the teachers were almost all white and favoritism was prevalent in all classrooms. In these schools, if you weren't white or Asian, you would just be swept under the rug and pushed along.

My mom, me, my dad, and my little brother.

Thankfully, I had supportive and hard-working parents who believed the best way for their children to get out of the “cycle” would be to have them work hard and take advantage of opportunities. My mother was born and raised in Mexico, coming to this side to attend middle and high school (education in Mexico isn't free, and with six children and a meager income, my grandparents couldn't afford to send all of their children to school). She knew what a hungry belly felt like and how often there wasn't any money. Additionally, she and her siblings had the burden of taking care of their younger brothers and sisters while their parents worked around the clock to earn a living. While my mom obtained her high school diploma and became a nationalized citizen, she never went to college and has had to work her way up from jobs. My dad has a similar story. He was born and raised in New York City and, with the help of his step dad, learned to love the outdoors. When his step dad moved to San Diego, my dad went along for the ride, and he has never looked back. He was also poor and my step grandfather was stingy. My dad worked around-the-clock at a McDonald’s in high school to pay for food and living expenses. He joined the high school’s JROTC where he met my mother. They married soon after high school and he joined the Army.

Me and my little sister.

Even now, with my parents working modest jobs, we are still considered the “working poor”. They live in a 2 bedroom/1 bathroom house, they pay more taxes than they should, and they somehow still manage to save enough money to send my little brother to a Catholic school and help out family members in tough times.

Of course, I am inspired by my parents.

From my parents I have learned to work hard and to fight against what traditional statistics would have “planned” for me. Yes, I grew up in neighborhoods where crime was common, the were bars on windows and where many opportunities existed to make bad decisions. But, I also realized how much I loved my neighborhood. It made me a thicker skin, and it gave me a taste of life.  With our huge population of Hispanics, Somalians, Vietnamese, Ethiopians, Indians and other immigrants there were always authentic and cheap restaurants to try and cultural celebrations to be a part of.

Teaching a group of summer camp girls to surf.

My parents instilled a strict set of values into us. Thankfully, it worked wonderfully. I never became the pregnant fifteen-year-old at school. I never joined a gang or had the desire to. I have never stolen or committed crimes. I worked hard in school, and wanted more out of life. Some teachers and adults saw my potential and encouraged me to step out of the stereotype. In 8^th grade I was the only Mexican student to travel to the East Coast on a week-long field trip exploring our country’s roots. A scholarship paid for the trip, and I won awards for my work during the trip. In high school, I worked liked a dog to raise money in order to go on trips to Germany and Australia. In 2010, I saved money and went to live and work in Italy. I was at every event I could possibly manage to be at in San Diego that involved cultural enrichment and the chance to make friends with other People of Color.

A group of inner-city high school girls (except me, I'm on the right in pink) that we took to a conference.

I am also inspired by people like me. I am here because I want to pursue a career that allows me to be of service and inspiration to other inner city youth with similar backgrounds. Aside from SeaWorld, Jamba Juice and the two jobs I work know, all of my others jobs have been working with children and youth from low-income schools. I have taught them to dream, to be outspoken and to question everything. Many of those students still keep in contact and it’s great to see them grow and create bigger dreams. Working with my mom, we have been able to save our own money to take some of these youth to restaurants, events, workshops and retreats they would have never otherwise been able to attend because of absent parents (who work all the time) and financial burden. 

Taking girls to a Ren Faire (I'm in the middle)

Working with our family members, we have been able to give prom dresses to girls who couldn't afford them and mini-scholarships to guys who wanted to date their dates out to dinner. I remember having the house full of high school girls, music playing in the background, while my mom, sister and I worked to get hair and make up done. Sure, it’s hard and sometimes was frustrating. But, I couldn't shake the feeling that all of these little moments matter. When you are poor, when your parents are gone and when you are forced to sacrifice your youth to act as a stand-in parent for your younger siblings, every little thing matters. Many of these high-schoolers are already in college, all dependent on scholarships and any income they work for.

Working with Boy Scouts in the Anza-Borrego Desert.

And then, there is my brother. My sneaky, quirky, awesome, and nearly twelve little brother.

Our cousin Israel and my little brother Sean (on right)

Sean, my darling little brother is the light of my life. I love all of my family and friends, but my little brother has his own special place in my heart.

He is a normal kid who loves Star Wars, drawing, building Lego models of Star Wars ships, and he’s an active soccer player and Boy Scout. Luckily, and thankfully, he hasn't had to grow up in some of the difficult conditions my sister and I experienced. He loves international foods, likes to travel (the little sucker has already been to Spain, Morocco and Hawaii!!), and to geek out on video games. He also has a heart of gold and loves to take care of animals and be charitable to those less fortunate (when our family goes to Mexico to cook food and donate clothes and items, Sean always makes sure to pick out toys, shoes and clothes to give to the children).

Sean is my greatest inspiration because I never want to have him suffer or to know hardship. My parents have done a good job with him, but with working a lot and getting older, their energy isn't what it used to be. When I used to live in San Diego, before moving to Prescott, I would make it a point to do things with my brother on the weekends or whenever I had time and a little extra money. We’d go on hikes, or play in the park. I’d take him to lunch (usually it was sushi) just so we could stuff our faces with green tea ice cream, and loved to hear what he had to say on certain matters (he’s very opinionated). We would spend afternoons just drawing or playing silly games. On his birthdays, I would dress up as something relating to his party theme (I have been a pirate twice, a soldier three times, spiderwoman, and Padme Amidala). We often baked and cooked together (he was eager to learn) and he was never shy about experimenting in the kitchen. When I was involved in Scouts (as a Venture Crew member) and brought back pictures and stories, he wanted to join (and did). When  I worked at summer camps, I got a discount for him to attend, and he was there. When I traveled, he warned me against doing certain things (“Angelica, when you get to Australia, don’t go in the water, the sharks are very mean) and to remind me to bring him back something (coins, puzzles, and “artifacts”).

I know that he’s doing great (I FaceTime him on my iPhone often), because he tells me often what he’s doing and interested in. Always, towards the end of the conversation he asks “Angelica, when are you coming home?”. It’s hard to answer, because I've only been home twice in the last two years. “As soon as I can, baby”. He’s gotten a little more “grown-up” each time I talk to him, but, at the end of our conversations I ask him “Sean, how much do I love you”, and he always replies “From here to the moon, plus infinity, and back”. And when he says “I love you and miss you, sister”, I know our conversation is done and we’ll both go back to our lives until the next phone call.

I want the best for my little brother. Period. And that’s mostly why I am here. I want to give children like him, like us and like my parents a fighting chance. When I graduate in May, I want to be able to have made my parents, brother, family and friends proud. To say “Yes! I did it!”. I got my college degree while working two jobs and taking out student loans, in a state that continuously passes laws to oppress my people and gender. I want to be the teacher that makes it in an inner city schools because I relate to the students and have real opportunities to offer them. Yes, it will be hard, but it will be worth it.

A final word of advice to all the people out there with a similar story: NEVER settle for anything less than what you deserve. If you want to travel, work hard and make it happen. If you want to go to college, believe you will, work hard, and make it happen. Never let anyone or anything else define or confine you! Go out into the world, be brave and do great things. Be more than the cycle you are stuck in or the statistics of your neighborhood.

Angelica R. Brady 2.27.2013

Transformed by Raw Determination: A Wilderness Orientation Story

Twenty-three days, and 71 marked miles.

That is the amount of time and travel it took for me to become tamed by the Arizona wilderness. Not tamed, really, but transformed, by the heat, the hardships, and by my heart.

Let me start from the beginning.

I moved to Prescott, AZ in August 2011 after being accepted as a transfer student at Prescott College. After a horrible two weeks of moving in with an unsatisfactory roommate and then having to move out again, I was ready to start my Orientation. At Prescott College, Orientation isn’t a typical college/university orienation. Yes, there’s still all those odd talks and presentations, but, it’s also so much more. Here, at Prescott College, my Orientation would be a three-week backpacking trip through the Arizona wilderness in the Yavapai and Coconino counties. I could have chosen a Yoga Orientation, or done a Community-Based Orientation, but I chose Wilderness Orientation.

I had no clue what I was getting myself into.

The first few days were a series of pre-eliminary talks, presentations, packing and repacking, a practice hike, and then, finally, a ceremony that would send us all in our separate ways. It was tedious, to say the least, but it had to be done.

Finally, we were driven out to our separate trail heads. It was exciting, to be leaving the “front country” behind, with all of its noise and distractions. Those days were on a trail, and the miles were few. Optimism was flying high, and there were pools of water to swim in. It almost seemed like a vacation. It was the first time I slept outside, under the starts, without a tent or tarp covering me…just the sleeping pad under me and the sleeping bag around me. It was also strange trying to get used to my group. We were small, then only six students to two instructors, but it was still hard not to feel…out of the loop.

A few days into our blissful dip into backpacking, we had to haul ourselves OUT of the canyon and onto the rim. This was the day where my doubt and distractions were at their highest. The work was kicking my butt, royally, and it was the first time I seriously doubted my ability to do this, and contemplated quitting. It was such hard work; carrying the pack up this steep, thin little excuse for a trail. Muscles that I didn’t even know could hurt were screaming with agony. Then, we reached our final obstacle that would take us onto the rim…rocks, that we had to climb with packs on. I was so determined in that moment, just to reach the top and be done with the thing. I hesitated, then climbed…refusing hands and boosts up. As soon as I cleared the last rock, I dropped my pack and cried. Never had I been pushed to such physical, mental, and emotional extremes. As I sat out on a rock and gazed over the canyon we just climbed out of, the only thing I thought was: “There’s no way I can do this. If I can’t do this, then what am I even doing at this school?”

After lunch, we headed to a “road” (side note: I hate these “roads” more than anything I experience during Orientation. They’re actually jeep-trails and they SUCK. Easily something I could do without the rest of my life.), where I quickly learned that I was the slowest person in the group, and that I absolutely loathed those roads. I spent almost every day of hiking on the rim at the back of the pack. At first, it angered me immensely; because I just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the group. Then, it made me sad, because it only added to the lonliness that I felt; being away from people I know and love, and who share my heritage, and with a group of people who were strangers in that they couldn’t relate to my heritage/culture. After being sad and angry, I adjusted. To ease the lonliness, I began to have conversations in my head with people from San Diego. My most frequent conversations were with my mom; whose astral voice told me to be strong, to keep going, and NOT to quit. That day at camp, my group made a huge tarp by combining the two tarps…it was fortress. That was also the day I put my hair into a pony tail and had Claire cut my hair with medical scissors.

At one of my big breaking points, I asked one of the leaders (Emily), if I could speak with her. Aside from addressing the concerns of my blisters (indeed, I did get some), we talked about my situation. I remember telling her that I made the decision to make resupply my marker…there, I would decide if I could keep going or if I would opt out and finish at CBO (Community-Based Orientation).

But, this story isn’t all about hardship. Each day, as we arrived at camp, I was renewed, seemingly dipped into the elixir of life. Each morning, I forgot about the trials from the day before and began anew. I laughed, a lot. The group I was with knew how to take jokes and to give them. I was witness to some of the most beautiful things in nature I have ever seen; pools of cool, rushing water, caves, strange and wonderful flora, intriguing animals and insects, and extraordinary geology. I saw some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets, I slept under brilliant stars. I survived through loud, powerful thunderstorms (and one hailstorm). I didn’t know it then, but I was becoming more of an outdoorswoman…hair dirty, body growing stronger, planning my personal needs around the rhythms of nature.

Then, we descended back down into the canyon. I fell. Actually, I fell so many times I lost count. But this fall happened right when we started a steep descent back down into the canyon…and I fell, right over the edge. I had sense enough to land on my stomach, and, as I slid…I dug my boots into the earth and used my hands to hold onto anything that would keep me from sliding. It was a paralyzing experience. And then, I lifted myself out. It was easily one of the scariest moments of the whole trip, because of the real potential danger. I cried, profusely. One minute I was stepping and the next I was sliding over the edge. I couldn't get my mind to wrap around that fact. I was shaky and unsteady, but glad. I had lived. My instincts knew what had to be done, even if my mind refused to cooperate. Here, I began to realize that I had the potential to finish the Orientation all the way through. It was a good feeling.

The next few days we camped and hiked along the creek in this new area of the canyon. Where the previous canyon had been all desert and heat and prickly/thorny plants and sharp edges, this canyon was the opposite. I was surprised to find myself bush-whacking through forest…green, beautiful, lush, thick forest. It was damp and cold, but it was almost a welcome relief from the heat above.

During this time, I became closer and closer to the members in my group. It was getting easier now. There was lots of joking…funny inside jokes, sarcastic jokes. Humor. There was even some cultural exchange going on…especially where I was concerned. It made me happy. Questions got to be deeper, and answers a lot richer. All of us were forming tendrils of friendship that reached out to everyone in the group, and would grow stronger each day…and then follow us out of the back country and into the modern world.

We had finally reached the day where we would hike out of the canyon (again), and into resupply.
It was the hardest and most victorious day of the trip.

Nine miles. Doesn't seem like a lot. It is when you have to criss-cross creeks, swim in water with packs on, cobble hop, and then climb four of those miles out of the canyon. We started early that day. And we didn't finish those first four miles until around six in the evening, We were beat…all of us. The day and terrain had took it’s toll on our bodies, minds, and spirits. Then, with renewed vigor, someone brought up the idea of busting out those last five miles to resupply. The idea caught like wildfire.

After a quick bathroom and snack break, and then pulling out our headlamps, we were on our way.
We conquered those last five miles (on jeep roads) in two and a half hours, at around 9:00pm (so, basically, we had a 12-hour day). The whole group was so proud of each other. We arrived into camp, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to set up our tarps, eat, and sleep. Another group offered to cook while we set up camp, what a blessing!! I ate quickly and than slept like a log.

After three rainy days at resupply (where I received a wonderful care package from my mom and letters from loved ones, as well as a delicious dinner and desert prepared for us!) something in me clicked and I decided that if I had made it this far, I could definitely make it the rest of the way. As soon as we hit the trail again, I knew there was no turning back.

It was road hiking again, for about two days. Then, back down into the canyon we went…this time following Beaver Creek.

The pack was heavier this time, because we had more food than the first half. This half wasn't so straight-forward, either. We zig-zagged a lot on our journey. The pace was faster, and I was having a harder time keeping up. One of the days, just before our Solo, we stopped. I was so angry at myself and so tired of trying to play catch up that I just sat on a rock in the middle of the creek, hugged my knees, and cried. That night at camp, Noah asked me to tell the group what was going through my mind, and how I felt, when I was at the back. It was one of the most difficult times I've had opening up to a group of people. I had expressed my concern to Emily before, but never the whole group. But, I did tell them, and I’m glad I did. It released whatever remaining tension and apprehension I had and just let me be…me.

Then came Solo.

Solo is where, for three days, the students in the group are separated into little individual “camps” where we spend our days relaxing, reflecting, and doing whatever else seemed right to us during that time.

In my journal, I wrote: “I hope to come out of Solo with a more defined sense of self, and my academic/career/life goals. I know that’s a lot to expect from three days, but I am optimistic.”
Little did I realize that I would meet, and surpass, my expectations of Solo.

Here is an excerpt of an entry from 9/17/2011, the first day of Solo:

“It’s hard to believe that I've gone nearly a month without any outside contact (and by that I mean contact with my family/friends, and the “normal” world). I know that getting back into contact will be one of the first things I do when I get back–given how important family and friends are in my life.
Aside from a couple of rough days in the beginning, and other moments of “lowness”, I have come to be less and less distracted by outside things. Also, I've been less doubtful–of problems, of life, but especially of myself. I feel more confident, and (despite the long days and heavy packs) more renewed. I feel alive–much more alive. As though my senses have been opened up widely and are allowing me to experience a heightened version of myself. It’s an amazing feeling. It makes me realize how far I've come with myself in this experience, and that I have the potential for much more.”

At the end of Solo (9/20/11), I wrote a final entry:

“As the day is coming to a close, Solo is drawing near to its end as well. I am sad to leave this experience, but excited to finish the rest of my Orientation. I now know that I am equipped with the strength, knowledge, and mindset to spend time by myself, engulfed in Nature. I have grown to appreciate my silence–to allow my voice to be spoken only within the confines of my mind. I have enjoyed seeing Nature, hearing Nature, smelling Nature, tasting Nature (sand and twigs in my mouth after a sandy explosion), and feeling Nature all around me; in the plants, the wind, the sun, the moon, the stars, the critters, the sand beneath me toes.

Some of my most favorite moments have been: admiring the clouds and sky; listening to the chirping of birds and insects; falling asleep under the unparalleled brilliance of the stars; following the shadow of my juniper tree to read and write under its shady branches; lying under the blazing sun; becoming aware of my human presence/habits/impact in Nature. But, my most favorite moments have been listening intently to my heart, and reflecting on my place in relation to all of it, and to have it feel natural to have been here and to have experienced this.”

Thus, ended my Solo. Then, only a day and a half remained until I would leave this experience all behind and be back in the “normal” world.

The second to last day I gave a presentation, and it was good. That same day, we all hiked to a nearby swimming area. It was beautiful.

When we got there, everyone jumped off the cliff into the water…except me. I was suddenly held in a death-grip by my own fear of heights.

Everyone split off in a number of different directions to do their own thing. I sat and wrote, as I had to finish up a few entries before handing over my portfolio to our leaders. I talked with Claire. She was encouraging me to jump, and I told her I wanted to…and then I made a promise to jump. The whole rest of the time I was writing, I kept thinking about the jump.

When I was done, I sat there, on the ledge of the cliff with Luke and Claire, and I was over-analyzing the situation too much.

Before I know it, the whole group is there, and all of them are giving me pep talks, and encouraging me to jump. Everyone of them was saying that I would regret it if I didn't  and that the jump would be the icing on the cake that was this experience. I remember someone saying that I should scoot closer to the edge.

“If I get close to the edge, I won’t do it.” I said. “If I’m going to do it, I’m just going to run and jump.”

“There,” Matt said. “You’ve already told yourself how you’re going to do it.”

His words made absolute sense. I did just tell myself how I was going to do it.

Almost immediately after he said it, and while the others were still talking, I ran past them all and jumped.

The fall was scary, and the water was cold.

When I resurfaced, they all had gathered at the edge, looking down at me.

I was alive, and I did it!!!

I swam back to shore and climbed back up to join the group. I got high-fives and lots of pats. I was still shaking, but on cloud nine that I had done something that I never thought I would do…with that one jump all my remaining fear and doubt vanished. As far as I was concerned, I was invincible!!
That night, we had a closing ceremony. It was beautiful and amazing, and I’m surprised I didn't cry my eyes out (funny, since I cried profusely during other parts throughout the trip). It was a long night, and when we all finally went to sleep, it was knowing that we would be waking up early to hike to the trail head to meet the bus that would drive us back to “civilization”.

On the bus, later the next day, I was sitting next to Noah, and was reflecting about everything that had happened during this trip. Coming back to the front country wasn't exciting, it was more disappointing than anything else.

We got to campus, cleaned and organized what we needed to…and then parted ways.
With my pack on my back, I walked the two miles back to my studio.

People steered clear of me, and I don’t blame them. I looked and reeked like a homeless person. Some gave me looks of pity, others of disdain.

Let them stare, I thought. I was high on life, riding that wave of satisfaction and pleasure. I just did something that most of them have never and might never do in their lives…and I did it for college!!
There, on the road back to my studio, I finally cried…this time, tears of joy.

I did it. I. DID. IT!!!

I had conquered any doubt, any fear that haunted me going into this trip. Whatever obstacles would come, I now knew I would be more than ready to handle them. I was here for the long-haul.
Still, when I slipped of the key to my studio from around me neck, I dropped my pack and its contents outside, and proceeded to take to most glorious shower of my life. was grateful to be back. It was good to have hot water and soap.

Thankfully, no amount of soap and water in the world will erase this experience, and all that I have taken away from it.

The first person I called was my mom. We laughed and cried together over my experiences. She is the greatest woman in the world!

Angelica R. Brady 2.14.2013

My Independent Study in Music (With Videos!)

Transferring to Prescott College was a big change for me. Before coming here, I had only studied music and German. Throughout my entire life, I had never considered being anything but a singer (whether it be musical theater, folk, or opera) and, in my last year of music school, a music teacher. I invested so much time and energy in my music education, starting voice lessons at age eleven and attending Interlochen Arts Academy and Westminster Choir College. So when I suddenly stopped wanting voice and music education for my career path, I took a year off, spent that year in Germany, and reevaluated what was important to me, and how I wanted to make a difference in the world.

It became clear to me that my priority was actually the environment. Luckily, I had already heard of Prescott College, and quickly decided that it was a perfect fit for me. But after a year without music, I felt I was ready to return to it, just on a much smaller scale. I decided to make Music Education my breadth, and continue my studies on my own terms.

Prescott College has many wonderful, fantastic classes and programs, but unfortunately it does not have music. This obviously makes studying Music Education difficult! Luckily I attend an institution that values self-directed learning, and I was able to do an independent study this semester in choral conducting. This semester, I conducted a choir of eighteen people, and it was challenging and rewarding and beautiful. After so many years of singing, I was in front of the choir for the first time, and I learned every step of the way. And on Friday, we gave a fantastic performance with over 100 people in the audience.

Prescott College is a unique institution. It offers small class sizes, excellent professors, and wonderful, specialized areas of study that prepare its graduates for bright, meaningful futures. If enough students have the will to make it happen, we could have music classes, too! Some people thought I was out of my mind to try and make this independent study happen, but I did and it was extremely successful. Prescott College students are strong-willed and passionate, and can do just about anything if they put their mind to it. If you want a class that doesn’t exist here, try to make it happen! Send emails, barrage professors, recruit your friends. If I can get eighteen Prescott College students with completely different schedules to volunteer for a choir… you can make it happen, too.

A word of advice to high-school students: Be open-minded and consider all your options. I was so convinced that I knew exactly what I wanted to do for the rest of my life that I didn’t even consider anything else. Consequently, I didn’t pay much attention in my science classes, for example, because I didn’t think I would ever need that information again… and now my competence is Environmental Policy. You never know what surprises life may hand you, and it’s wise to keep all your options open. Soak up as much knowledge as you can! You might never need it again, but it will only contribute to your education as a human being. It can’t hurt to understand how photosynthesis works, even if you may never need to know it again.

 

 

 

 

 

The Semester of Independent Studies (dun dun DUNNNN!): AKA Time- and Stress- Management

Well, sometimes, life just happens. And when it does, there are two realistic options: sit back and do nothing, or get moving and do something. Me…I’m the “do something” kind of woman. It is hard for me to not have a back-up plan lined up (or several) when the road of life starts getting bumpy.

Due to a number of factors, I will not be able to participate in on-campus courses offered by the college. After nearly two weeks of juggling huge decisions, I decided that I would take a Leave of Absence from the college to pursue a full-time job. I filled out the application and had one of three meetings done. Then, in a stroke of enlightened genius, I had a great idea: I wanted to make my whole semester Independent Studies courses so that I could still work full-time.

After confirming this with my supervisors, I knew that it was possible! All I had to do was get my advisor on board. When I did set up an appointment with my awesome advisor (Grace Burford), she was excited and expressed how confident she was in my capabilities to be self-directed and motivated. But, she did say I needed to talk to the Dean first…and talk with him I did. Our Dean is super understanding, and after explaining my situation and needs to him, he became very supportive.

Also, after speaking with another amazing woman (Gret Antilla), we figured that I could combine my previously enrolled in education courses (Authentic Assessment and Curriculum Design) into a hybrid course that approaches both of these individual courses through an Expeditionary Learning perspective. This works for me and my graduation requirements because I am not enrolled in the Teacher’s Certification program in Education. We confirmed our idea with the Director of Education and we got the green light!

As you can imagine, all that has led to and has become this is fairly stressful…for anyone! This situation has forced me to be extremely attentive to my time management and stress management skills and practice. So, this is kind of what this article is about; the pressures of time and stress on creating Independent Studies (or college life in general).

Creating an Independent Study is just like creating your own course; you need to have everything in order! With the help of your advisor, you work together to create a course description, a list of assignments (including an optional tentative schedule), a method of evaluation, you determine whether the course will be Lower- or Upper-Division, you decide whether or not to make it Writing Emphasis, and you supply a tentative bibliography. This will go through at least one more draft, so make sure to leave time for that! Thankfully, I have already created an IS (Independent Study) for this Fall 2012 semester, and I know my way around the contract. Still, I have about a week to get an IS done for my Winter 2013 block, and then maybe two weeks to get my hybrid IS done before the Spring 2013 semester starts. And, this is all going on while this semester is coming to a close and I’m trying to complete portfolios for other classes.

To deal with the strict time constraints I have to work with, I have a planner.

 

This planner is no ordinary planner. I color code everything. Also, sticky notes are wonderful tools in helping me to pay attention to very important, upcoming deadlines. I use fluorescent highlighters to color code different categories: 1) Yellow is for Health & Wellness, 2) Orange is for Special Events, 3) Pink is for School, 3) Blue is for Other, and 3) Purple (now Green) is for Work. Bright sticky notes are also used. My life is reflected in my planner and I feel lost and unorganized without it. It is a method that has worked for me since middle school and I plan to use it the rest of my life.

Recently, I have figured out that technology is also wonderful for organizing time. I frequently put alerts onto my iPhone to remind me of things, and cross-check my information with calendars on Facebook and websites.

Time management at college depends on communication. I learned very quickly (early in life), that communication is key. Part of time management revolves around the time other people have organized for themselves. If you have a question, idea, or want to work something out quickly, check with the professor or administrators! Let them know what’s going on early so that you both can quickly schedule a time to meet with each other and go over a plan of action. This ends up being a fairly off-putting experience for the both of you because it puts you both through extra (and definitely unnecessary!) stress.

This brings me to my next topic: stress management.

Stress happens. Actually, stress is a reaction to the stuff happening around us; we can choose to be stressed or not. But, if you’re like me (broke, independent from parents, a student, working two jobs, etc.) succumbing to stress and anxiety is my initial reaction.  No it is not ideal, but that’s the way it happens (and, believe me, I have been working hard to change that).

Everyone deals with their stress differently. My sister ignores it…don’t do that, it’s not healthy. My mom goes out with girlfriends or coworkers. My little brother plays outside. My dad exercises. I, primarily, don’t even know how to deal with stress when I first allow it to be my reaction. I get very overwhelmed and usually end up having to physically exhaust myself out of it (swimming, running, or simply crying it all out), before I can rationally analyze my situation.

But, as I said, I have been getting better at this.

Recently, I’ve started to incorporate yoga and meditation. When something is really bothering me and I don’t trust myself to speak to someone about it just yet, I write in my journal. I call my mom and family a lot…that helps exponentially. Finally, I have a small (but wonderful) family here that helps me to decompress and relieve stress. My boyfriend is amazing. He’s supportive and listens well, and he gives great advice. He’s also very helpful at assisting me in creating a plan of action. His daughter is fourteen, and we get along well. When either or both of us are stressed, we cook a great meal together and then sit down to watch and episode or two of Glee (and usually belt the songs out with the cast). Sometimes, we sit down and create crafts together (the last couple of days we made Holidays cards). In our house, we also have a designated “Wellness Room” which is only used for reading, studying, mediation, art and yoga. Then, I have my dog, Orion.

 

This little (he’s actually about 50 pounds) dog is a great stress reliever. He’s always down to cuddle and loves to be petted. Taking him for walks helps reduce my stress and gets him to reduce his energy.
Other ways in which I “solo cope” are by reading, painting, or drawing. Baking and cooking are also wonderfully stress-relieving for me because I associate them with family, warm and fuzzy feelings, community, and good times. And, when I just don’t want to do anything constructive to relieve my stress, I’ll buy ice cream and watch a hilarious movie (Adam Sandler and Will Farrell are my go-to actors).

As I said, there are many ways to reduce stress…you just need to find what works for you.

A final piece; it always helps to have a mantra. I have a few:
1)      My mom tells me often to “Be strong”. In the face of adversity, I whisper this to myself often.
2)      “Trust and let go.” This one is written on things I frequently look at (my phone and planner, for instance).
3)      Finally, there’s another one from my mom “Everything happens for a reason.” Yes, yes it does. And it ALWAYS turns out better than it was when it all began.

So…take heart in knowing that you are not alone!

Also, please take the measures (as a current or future student) to manage your time wisely and make the time to reduce any stress or anxiety you feel.

 In Peace,

Angelica R. Brady 12.11.12

 

Collection of Masterpieces

 

A splash of color and spectrum of absolute awesome. We painted on the floor, we painted on paper, we painted on each other. Perfect timing for the Tuesday night Art Jam. Just a night, but this night was spiraled up into a mix of artistic expression that rushed forth from many an outlet...laughing and creating while others jammed out with the guitar, drums, didgeridoo and just their voices. There was a noted building of creativity, all of us relinquishing our vibrations to syncopation, all adding in our little bit of somethin' somethin' to the palette of fantastic. All the little stories interweaving, giving way to what we decided to make that evening. The end result: a collection of masterpieces, still and moving.

This idea of interweaving the skills and stories of all those who come to Prescott College is the thing that has struck me most about living here. The love I have for this school is beyond measure, but can be read and felt through the amazing people who are drawn to this place. Like a well placed punch to the jaw, they'll knock you on your...well, ask me later...and leave a constant laugh on your lips. They come from the cities, from the countryside...from all over the country, really. All to this mountain town tucked in the midst of a national forest, brimming with life and potential. It's incredible, too, how many people I find here who seem to exude the definition of renaissance man or woman; anything they touch turns to gold. The liberal arts and multidisciplinary mindset of Prescott College allows for the greatest growth in this uncanny ability to adapt and understand new things, all while becoming a more well rounded and responsible global citizen. So cheers to the stories, cheers to the mix, and cheers to the masterpieces that always seem to flow out of this...this school, this haven, this work of art in the deepest sense: Prescott College.