I was planning on going to graduate school to get a master’s in international education, which made sense at the time. I had been working with international students for three years, both in the U.S. and in Costa Rica, and getting a master’s degree was the next logical step. I had a plan, I had a spreadsheet with all of the international education programs I was applying for, and I had a solid elevator speech to respond to the inevitable, frequent, and mildly painful question, “what are you going to do next?”
Monday, January 27th, 2014 was my last first day of school. I woke up, wished my roommate and fellow-3rd year MDiv a “Happy Last First Day of School!”, and prepared myself for a whirlwind progression of events: a phone meeting with my future employer, a class I was shopping on Apocalyptic Literature, work as a Graduate Assistant in the Office of Career Services, class at the Graduate School of Education, a quick break for dinner, and a live webinar conference course jointly offered through HDS and the Harvard Extension School. Continue reading
“January term at HDS is an opportunity for the HDS community to engage in studies and specially designed programs that offer enrichment, knowledge, service to the community, or experiences outside HDS’s normal offerings…HDS faculty and students traveled to Latin America for “Spirit of Resistance,” a course that provided a firsthand look at the legacy of faith, solidarity, and social action in Nicaragua. The group talked about liberation theology and social justice with Nicaraguan environmental activists, Jesuit priests, advocates for women’s health, and rural peasants.”
In order to paint the most vibrant portrait about my experience in Nicaragua, I feel a quick stop in my past texturizes my sentiments and passions about the trip. I grew up in the 80s in New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans is popular, famous or infamous for a variety of reasons. Some of those reasons are rooted in folklore around voodoo, great cuisine, Mardi Gras, vampires, and most recently all the negative and horrible truths (some fabricated) revealed during and following Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.
When considering divinity school, and the ways in which Harvard Divinity School in particular may be the right fit, you have probably spent a bit of time thinking about how your pursuit of a degree at such an institution might benefit or influence you professionally.
In those considerations, I imagine most thoughts have revolved around various dimensions of on-campus opportunities, and not necessarily the possibilities of career exploration abroad. While my campus experiences have been enriching in so many ways, one of my most formative experiences came in the form of a summer abroad. Continue reading
It was about six o’clock in the evening and I didn’t have much time left before the sun set on my first and only day in Agra – home of the Taj Mahal. I decided it best to walk into town and see what I can see, so I wandered around near aimlessly for the better part of an hour. A hostel/ restaurant with a yellow sign boasting a “Taj” view caught my eye, so I walked up the narrow stairs to the third floor to ask for a menu. The place was deserted. And dusty. And it looked like no one had been inside for years, so I made for a quick retreat. Before I could get down the stairs, though, a man with a fantastic mustache and a sweaty undershirt ran up to me and asked, out of breath, “Sir, would you like to eat at the restaurant.” I reluctantly said yes and he walked me back up the stairs to the roof. He guided me up to the top of a yellow concrete water tower, and I asked for a menu. Continue reading