My Bard Essay

My lips quiver as I raise my flute to my mouth, despite the fact that I have played the piece time and time again: I know every note by heart. I take a deep breath, beginning to play the notes of “Ode to Joy”. I can feel the eyes of nearly four hundred children glued to me as they sit in silence; the beautiful notes of such an instrument never having graced their ears. Several minutes later, everyone erupts with clapping and smiles. The dark, crowded room fills with dust as the children file back to the small classrooms where they learn how to count, the A, B, C’s, and the most basic English words. I have come here to see the school that my parents began in 1998 with a young Rwandan Bible college graduate, helping him to fulfill his dream of starting a nursery. The school, located in Kigali, served 465 children at its peak. The road to get there was practically impossible to drive our 12-passenger van on because during the rainy season, massive ruts are spliced into the caramel colored mud due to weeks of intense downpour. The road is a sea of motion with barefoot children weaving through the traffic; women carrying baskets full of sugar cane on their heads, and men chattering and passively watching people come and go. Everywhere, my skin attracts stares and waves, and I often here “mazungu!” or, “white person.” Streams of people go about their business from outside my window. It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that only thirteen years prior, the same road had been littered with the bodies of the Tutsis during Rwanda’s genocide, killed by their own family, friends and neighbors. The incredible agony and horror of ethnic cleansing is not traced in the faces of the Rwandan people, however. Within their eyes, a deep hope radiates for the promise of a brighter future. After seeing the faces of genocide, I am forever changed.

I found the words of Henry Miller to be true after I traveled to Israel: “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” Prior to the trip, my mind’s eye pictured Israel as a land plagued with religious strife, where conflicts between Arabs and Jews erupt on a daily basis to create a war-torn nation. I envisioned young, gun wielding men roaming the streets, the whistle of explosives overhead, and the stress of being in a country with such world-wide animosity directed towards her. What I found contradicted all my preconceived notions, reducing them to mere allegories. Not once did I fear for my safety. Not once did I feel like my life was in the balance, even when I stayed in a settlement in the West Bank. On the contrary, I enjoyed every minute of my time in Israel, from climbing Masada at sunrise, to riding camels in the Negev, to dining with Orthodox Jews for the Sabbath in Jerusalem. I was met by a kind and hospitable people, more than willing to share their religion, values, and culture with a foreigner. This natural warmth held true for Jew and Arab alike. The purpose of the trip was to gain a better understanding of the Jewish roots of my Christian faith, but I walked a way with much more: a deep desire to bring a solution of peace to this troubled area of the world. After seeing the faces of war, I am forever changed.

Homeschooling has blessed me with the opportunity to have a self-directed and rather flexible education. In 2006, I traveled to Rwanda, Kenya and Congo with my family and students from Messiah College. In 2008, I spent nearly a month in Israel on a study tour with homeschool families from around the world. These experiences have led me to no longer view myself as only American citizen, but as a global citizen as well. I personally witnessed first hand the cripplingly extreme poverty and desperation that plagues the vast majority of the world’s population. I cannot lead my life as if I were ignorant to their need. I have found the words that most eloquently describe my predicament are stated by Samuel Johnson: “Ignorance, when voluntary, is criminal, and a man may be properly charged with that evil which he neglected or refused to learn how to prevent.” I am no longer ignorant, and feel the need to learn how to use the knowledge with which I have been endowed.

I strongly feel am ready for the challenge, and do not believe it is necessary to wait any longer to begin my personal journey towards contribution to a better world. I see myself at Bard College at Simon’s Rock, cultivating this knowledge and desire for change with like-minded classmates and faculty who share this vision. The opportunity to be with people my age who have also concluded that they want be a part of our generation’s remedy for war, injustice, and most importantly, deliberate ignorance, would be an incredible honor.