The End

As many of you know, I recently finished my year in Argentina and am now back in the States, spending time with family and gearing up for the next step. In many ways, my life in Mendoza was more similar to life here than my earlier international experiences. By most standards, Argentina is one of the more economically and socially advanced countries in the “developing world,” and the standard of living for most people in Mendoza is more comparable to that of (modest) Americans than that of people living in most of its Latin American neighbors. At least, my daily surroundings and activities were more familiar, than, say, those I experienced while working in an enormous slum in Kenya.

It follows, then, that the return to the U.S. should be easier, less culturally “shocking.” Yet, while the culture shock may have been navigable, this has been by far the most challenging re-entry process I have undergone. Near the end of my time in Argentina, the Mendoza climbing community lost one of its most talented, charismatic, and fearless members, Ivan “Topo” Rocamora, in a climbing accident, and I lost my best friend. I’ve been thinking a lot about how my year in Argentina unfolded and about the role people play in our experiences. The move and entry into Mendoza was not an easy one for me at first (or second…), and many of you kindly offered listening ears and thoughtful feedback which helped me find my way. The truth is, even though things started to look up when I began working harder to amend my initial expectations and learned to more creatively and successfully face my challenges, I only really began to feel comfortable, grounded, and fulfilled once I’d found my people and begun carving out my niche amongst them; only after I became an integrated, integral part of a community did I find myself feeling truly capable of making progress on other fronts.

The empowerment and fulfillment I experienced once I’d found community, and the profound sadness and emptiness I’m left with after the loss of such an important member of it, leaves me with one hence-forth indubitable belief about people and about myself: that more than the environmental differences, the economic disparities or the cultural nuances, more than the work I am doing or the things I am studying, and more than the social and leisure activities that form an experience, it is the people with whom one undergoes that experience that truly define it while it is happening and memorialize it once it’s over.

Thus, I offer my most heart-felt gratitude to all of my friends and family in Argentina, those people who walked (or, as the case may be, climbed) with me through ups and downs this year as I found my niche in Mendoza, those who helped me make it my home. Thank you for taking me in, for helping me grow, and for comforting me, even as you faced your own great challenges and loss. I hope you will one day make the journey north to my home, so that I may show you the same.

Thank you, also, to the Rotary Foundation, for its generous support of my experience through the Ambassadorial Scholarship Program; I sincerely hope it will keep enabling profound life-changing experiences like mine for future generations through continued priority of this and its other educational programs. And a special thank you to the kind folks of the Hillsborough Rotary Club, without whose continued interest in and support of my endeavors, I’d quite likely be leading a much more mundane, less exciting, and certainly less well-traveled life today.

And finally, an enormous thank you to each of you, my extraordinary friends and family, for your kindness, patience, and guidance through this tumultuous year. I’m so fortunate to you have you in my life!

Como saben muchos de ustedes, hace poco terminé mi año en Argentina y ahora estoy de vuelta en EEUU, pasando tiempo con mi familia y preparándome para la próxima cosa. De varias maneras, mi vida en Mendoza fue más parecida a mi vida acá en EEUU que mis experiencias internacionales anteriores. Por la mayoría de los estándardes, Argentina es uno de los países del “en vías del desarrollo” más avanzados económica y socialmente, y el estándard de vida de la mayoría de la gente en Mendoza es más parecido a el de los norteamericanos (modestos) que el de la gente de los otros países latinoamericanos. Por lo menos, mi ambiente y mis actividades normales alla fueron mucho más familiares, por ejemplo, que los que experimenté mientras que trabajaba en una villa miseria enorme en Kenya.

Es lógico, entonces, que la vuelta a EEUU debe ser más fácil, menos chocante culturalmente. Sin embargo, ha sido la vuelta más difícil por mucho. Hace poco, la comunidad de andanistas mendocina perdió uno de sus miembros más talentoso, carismático, y atrevido—Ivan “Topo” Rocamora—y yo perdí mi mejor amigo. He estado pensando mucho en cómo desarrolló mi año en Argentina y en el papel que juega la gente en nuestras experiencias. La mudanza y entrada a Mendoza no fue nada fácil para mi al principio, y muchos de ustedes fueron muy amabales conmigo, me escucharon y me ofrecieron consejos para mejorar mi experiencia. La verdad es, aunque las cosas empezaron a mejorarse cuando empecé a trabajar más para cambiar mis expectativas y cuando aprendí a hacer frente a los desafíos con más creatividad, solo empecé a tener una base sólida y a sentirme cómoda, realizada y felíz cuando encontré a mi gente; solo después de hacerme una parte integrada e integral de una comunidad empecé a sentirme capaz de progresar en otras áreas.

El sentido de confianza y cumplilmiento que experimenté después de encontrar una comunidad, y la tristeza y el vacío profundos que siento después de haber perdido un miembro tan importante de ella, me dejan con una creencia indudable sobre la gente y mí misma: más que las diferencias ambientales, las disparidades económicas o matices culturales, más que el trabajo que hago o lo que estudio, y más que las actividades sociales, es la gente con la cual uno vive una experiencia que de veras la define mientras que pasa y que la hace memorable una vez que acaba.

Asi que, ofrezco mis gracias de corazón a mis amigos y familia en Argentina, a la gente que caminaba (o, en algunos casos, escalaba) conmigo por los altibajos este año mientras encontraba mi lugar en Mendoza, la gente que me ayudaba a hacerla mi hogar. Gracias por aceptarme, por ayudarme a crecer, y por consolarme, especialmente mientras ustedes enfrentaron sus propios desafíos y pérdida profunda. Espero que vengan algún día a mi hogar, para que les ofrezca lo mismo.

Gracias, también a la Fundación Rotaria por su apoyo generoso de mi experiencia a traves de La Beca de Buena Voluntad. Espero que siga posibilitando las experiencias como estas que cambian la vida para las generaciones futuras con el apoyo constante de los programas educativos. También, muchísimas gracias a la gente tan amable del Club de Rotary de Hillsborough, NC; sin su interés y apoyo constantes, es muy probable que yo viva una vida mucho más aburrida ahora.

Y, finalmente, una gracias enorme a cada uno de ustedes, a mi familia y mis amigos extraordinarios, por su amabilidad, su paciencia, y su orientación por este año tumultoso. ¡Soy muy afortunada de tenerles en mi vida!

Capitalism & Social Change

In my seminar on Global Social Policy the professor was lecturing on development paradigms around the world and we began discussion how various socio-economic systems (and the cultural characteristics that often accompany such systems in any given society) affect social development. We talked about the “welfare state,” as characterized by the Nordic countries, about the “liberal welfare state” (ours truly), and about various adaptations mixing the two that most other countries adopt.

After a discussion on the varying pros and cons of such systems, the professor basically posited that widespread progressive social change—the kind that truly creates more just, equitable societies—and capitalism are pretty much at odds. He argued this case not with the rhetoric of some critics, who harp on the economics (that a capitalist system naturally creates a hierarchy that benefits some and marginalizes others, and that it depends on this marginalizing system for survival), but rather by honing in on the cultural components of a capitalist society that prevent successful economic integration for all. Societies like the U.S., he posited, are so individualistic that they’re inherently incapable of adopting the kinds of policies and tactics that (according to him) successfully create more equal societies: ones that, rather than simply provide “band-aid treatment” to a given social problem, work on a structural level to challenge its roots and equalize the economic playing field for all—or, more simply, that promote prevention instead of just treatment—policies that (he argues) create and depend on an active role for government. According to his argument, while we as a society may very genuinely wish that the disadvantaged among us had an easier time of it, when it comes to making the kinds of societal changes necessary to make that happen—allowing for a bit of (faint of heart among you be forewarned, I’m about to use dirty words) wealth distribution and government intervention—we forget that dream of equity in a second and fight those policies (that are so blatantly turning our founding fathers’ vision on its head) to the death.

Somehow this all made me think of my earlier rambles on community service and differences in conception of civic duty between the U.S. and Latin America. In a way I feel like it goes hand-in-hand with my impression that folks here have a more innate (if less ostensible) sense of social responsibility; if my supposition has any truth, it makes sense that they’re more willing as a nation to accept the idea of a policy that, in an effort to improve the lot of the socially and economically disadvantaged, necessitates the replacement of a portion of individual choice with government direction and that suggests a country’s super wealthy may have some responsibility to help the impoverished masses… the very ideas of which in our country have the public rallying to “restore honor” and bring back our “traditional values” …(which, if not strong, inclusive communities and a holistically healthy populous, I’m not sure what are). Perhaps it is our national tendency to conceive of personal life and service to community as two distinct and separate facets of being that fuels our distaste as a society of policies that would relegate the former (even just a bit!) to improve the latter.

I found his argument quite compelling but also, for obvious reasons, troubling. I feel like our nations’ vehemently negative response to the recent health care legislation lends a decent amount of credibility to his notion, but at the same time I’m not ready to completely accept his thesis, as it would mean conceding that widespread social change is not possible in our country and all but nullify what I see as my life’s work (and that of many of you all, too). Though I’m not sure exactly where the middle ground is or what it looks like with respect to this seeming contradiction, I’m resolutely hopeful that it exists. I say this all the time and mostly you all ignore me, but in this case in particular I’d really like to hear your thoughts! I know many of you are working on this very issue, even if you don’t generally conceive of it in these terms, so you can’t get away with not responding for lack of personal relevancy…

Escalada

When not studying or hanging out with Rotarians, I spend a decent portion of my time here enjoying my favorite sport and pastime: rock climbing. Though a flat desert itself, the city of Mendoza is perfectly nestled at the feet of the mighty Andes, the vast mountain range that runs north to south through all of South America. The Andes are the world’s longest mountain chain, and its highest peak, Mount Aconcagua— at 22,841ft the tallest in the world outside the Himalayas—sits only 100miles from the city. Thus, Mendoza is the jumping off point for thousands of summit hopefuls and otherwise adventurers each year and, as such, home to a significant number of outdoorsy-type Argentines who work as mountain guides during the summer months. During a good season, these guides can make almost a year’s worth of wages in just 3 months, and they spend the rest of the year doing odds jobs here and there but mostly just taking advantage of the seemingly endless spectacular climbing spots around Argentina and the region. Lucky for me, I arrived just as the Aconcagua season was winding down and they were eager to get climbing again, so I’ve had some great opportunities to join in these mountain adventures.

It is amongst these mountain crazies (and a few others with slightly more traditional career trajectories but no less love for rocks) that I’ve finally come to find community. It’s a bit of a shift from the Rotary crowd, where folks actually speak Spanish (as opposed to Argentine climber slang, which I’m sometimes convinced is an entirely separate dialect) and everyone has, well, showered recently, but I’ve come to love the group—with all its eccentricities—nonetheless. And now I’ve given you all fair warning if I come back smelling a little funny and speaking unidentifiable Spanish.

Beyond the Aconcagua guides, we’re a mixed bag of students and professionals—a journalist, a doctor, an architect, a physical therapist, a yoga instructor, a community organizer (me!), and various geologists—who live very different lives by day, but by evening and weekend we always come together to share our love for the mountains and (in their cases, at least) the terrible pizza and beer of Mendoza. We mostly hangout at “El Club,” or the Club Andanista of Mendoza, which has a climbing wall for training during the week. It’s a bit of a shift from what I now realize where the luxurious climbing walls at UNC, but I’ve come to appreciate its quirks, namely: the absence of any set ropes or routes; the ipod incapable of playing anything but Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and “Rock Nacional;” the over-shared, under-washed mate that always offers weak yerba and tepid water; the missing wall (which I appreciate more now that winter has passed); and, most of all, the wall cat, who, with his accidental dreads (formed more from lack of combing than from intention, I think) is more like a real Argentine climber than I could ever hope to be.

We also meet up a couple times a week for yoga classes, an “English-only” hour (almost all Argentines know a bit but most have little to no chance to use it, so after a few failed attempts at formal classes, we’ve settled on an informal weekly chat to get them practicing), running or mate-ing in the park, the occasional cumpleaños celebration, and, of course, more bad pizza and beer.

Every weekend I can I flee the city with them to enjoy the seemingly endless natural beauty of Mendoza and surrounding provinces and to do as much climbing as I can before I head back to anti-elevation New Orleans. And beyond the excellent climbing, camping with Argentines is pretty high-class, as well. Since good wine pretty much runs in their blood, at least here in Mendoza, and the asado (or roast/BBQ) is as much a habit as brushing one’s teeth, we always finish a hard day climbing enjoying good food and drink around a bonfire. Lucky for me there are one or two other vegetarians in the group, so I don’t feel too bashful when I suggest buying a few more veggies to throw onto the grill. Roadside produce stands, as well as folks selling vino patero (homemade wine, named for the old process of squishing the grapes with one’s feet, or pateando, during the winemaking process), olives, cheese, and preserves, are omnipresent along the routes to climb, and outside the city it’s all dirt cheap. And lucky for us, the route to what is probably the most impressive climbing spots I’ve ever seen, Arenales, passes through a little town that boasts the best walnuts, apples, and honey in the region. Mmmm!On an unrelated but must-mention note, on the way to climb last weekend we passed through a different little town, Pocitos, that would be entirely unmemorable but for one small and surprising landmark. Right in the middle of the Plaza Central of this tiny San Juanian town is nothing other a human-size version of the Statue of Liberty! As the story goes, years and years ago the statue was bound for San Juan, Puerto Rico, but someone along the way got their lines crossed and no one realized until it showed up on San Juan, Argentina (the province due north of Mendoza). How it ended up in tiny Pocitos is unclear, but nonetheless there it stands today, announcing Argentina’s liberty and independence, 9 de Julio, Argentine flag blowing proudly behind. So there.

Just returned from adventuring in the Sierras of Cordoba—mountains full of great climbing and rustic pueblos surrounding Argentina’s second largest city—but once I've settled back in look for an entry on a fascinating discussion from class last week on the incompatibility of capitalism and widespread social change that still has me thinking!

Rotary

In addition to studying, I am here in Mendoza this year to serve as an ambassador of goodwill, one of hundreds of Rotary scholars across the globe working to further Rotary’s mission of spreading cultural awareness and understanding, and, ultimately, international peace and goodwill. Or, in less-ambitious, more-concrete terms, I’m sharing some of the culture and friendliness—some of the buena onda, as they say here—of good old North Carolina with Argentines, and I’m soaking up a lot of Argentina to share with you all when I return. The Rotary Foundation has been using educational programs and intercultural exchanges (like mine) toward this end since 1947. To learn more about Rotary’s work and the opportunities it offers folks of all ages across the globe, check out their website: http://rotary.org

Thus, in addition to studying, I have been visiting various groups around the city—most often Rotary Clubs but also sometimes schools and other civic groups—and giving presentations about my home Rotary Club (Hillsborough) and District (7710), about Hillsborough and NC in general, and about the experiences that have shaped who I am today and landed me in Argentina. Overwhelmingly, folks are gracious listeners, seemingly very impressed by the natural beauty of NC and my home and interested in the myriad opportunities I’ve been provided for international travel, study, and work.

An interesting note: unlike the Rotary Clubs I’m familiar with in the States, which meet briefly and efficiently over breakfast or lunch, almost all Argentine Rotary Clubs meet for dinner… ceremonious affairs to which neither of the proceeding adjectives can apply. Also, whereas all U.S. clubs are open to both men and women, in Argentina clubs are either all male, all female, or mixed gender, the latter two of which are much less common than the former. Women have only been permitted to join Rotary since 1987, 82 years after Rotary’s founding, and the vast majority of Argentine Rotarians are still male. This is not abnormal, though; apparently women only make up around 15% of Rotarians worldwide.

Thus, when I’m invited to give a talk at a Rotary meeting, I don my “elegant professional” garb (which otherwise gathers dust in my closet) and prepare myself for 2-2.5hrs of extravagant food, bottomless wine glasses, and aging Argentine men humor (which I can’t decide if is better or worse than young Argentine men humor…). It’s always an enjoyable evening, though, as the Rotarians here—male or female, old or young—are without fail warm, welcoming folks. Below I'm sharing an entertaining dinner (complete with a tango performance and live Argentine folkloric band) with my host counselor (the blond seated in front of me, also named Laura) and a Group Study Exchange delegation from Mexico at the annual District Conference here in Mendoza.

Another common way scholars fulfill their ambassadorial responsibilities is participating in community service throughout their time in country. I had every intention of doing the same during my year here. However, from day one I’ve been hard put to identify and become involved in a meaningful, sustained community service. First off, there seem to me to be far fewer outlets for an interest in service and civic engagement (in the form of non-profit and community groups or agencies/offices to connect people to them). Perhaps the bigger obstacle, however, is the inexperience of those that do exist in utilizing volunteers. This is not a criticism, but rather a curious commentary on what I perceive as an all but absent culture of volunteerism here. Admittedly, the communities I’m coming from—UNC-CH, where every student wants to start his/her own service group, and post-Katrina New Orleans, home to approximately 5billion different organizations whose missions relate to service or engagement—are both on volunteerism overdrive. Nonetheless, I still find it surprising how difficult it is for someone trying to offer their time and resources for free to find a way to do so.

While volunteering is an integral part of most any dialogue about civic engagement and social responsibility we have in the States, here I’m convinced the term all but doesn’t exist (for the infrequency with which I’ve heard it and the blank/confused looks I’ve gotten when I’ve used it). This realization got me thinking about a conversation I had with a professor a few years ago about this very topic—the differences in conception and practice of civic engagement and social responsibility between Latin America and the U.S.—in which he suggested that “volunteering” as we know it doesn’t really exist in much of Latin America, hence the difficulty U.S. non-profits and organizers sometimes have in engaging recent Latino immigrants in traditional service events. Subsequent talks with some of you and observations have led me to believe that, though this is mostly true, it doesn’t mean that a sense of social responsibility in Latin America is similarly absent; on the contrary, one could argue that it is even more prominent here than it is in the U.S., albeit in different form.

Rather than exist as a self-contained activity that is often extra-curricular, extra-work, extra-personal life (as volunteering can tend to be is in the States), people’s sense of duty to their communities is a part of their everyday consciousness and inextricably intertwined with the way they live their lives and relate to the people around them. They may not spend all Saturday volunteering at a neighborhood event, but they support their communities by being present and available day in and day out. This is not to say this type of community awareness and camaraderie doesn’t exist in the States; coming from a small, tightly-knit neighborhood I know first-hand that it does. Rather it’s to suggest, on the whole, that while in the U.S. service to community is conceived of as above-and-beyond and for our extraordinary efforts we are patted on the back and given an extra star on our resumes, in Latin America, it is very much a routine, expected, unrecognized part of daily life.

A contradiction to this conclusion (about a lack of volunteerism as we know it) I’ve encountered is the way in which Chileans have responded to the earthquake that devastated its second largest city and countless small towns in February. There has been significant organizing, at least amongst folks in the capital of Santiago, not only to collect aid but also to travel to these communities and work on reconstruction. And as far as I’ve heard, these groups are a diverse mix of Chileans and foreigners living in the city. My friend and travel buddy Shepard (think Colombia and Ecuador) was among these folks, so obviously she knows infinitely more about the efforts and can better comment on them (and maybe on the theme of civic engagement/responsibility in Chile?)… thoughts, Shep?

Bueno, as usual, I digress from the goal of sharing with you all what I’m up to. This is all to say that, for one reason or another, I have not been filling very much of my free time with community service as I once thought I would be. I could continue to pick apart this theme, or meander down any of the various tangential paths evolving in my head as I digest all of this, but instead I will leave you all in peace for now with the promise of another, (maybe) shorter entry soon, one that details some of the things I actually have been getting into during my time here!

Educación

After a rather extended hiatus, during which most of my adjusting and reflecting to Mendoza was done personally or through conversations with loved ones, I’ve finally taken up blogging again. I hope you’ll excuse my cyber-negligence during that interval! The plan is to write more actively now, so check in every once in a while if you’re curious what I’m up to.

To begin, a little context:

One of my two principal purposes this year in Mendoza is to take graduate courses in “Policy and Social Planning,” a Masters program offered by the Political Science department of the Universidad Nacional de Cuyo. The other main objective—to be an Ambassador of Goodwill—I will talk about in another post soon. Both opportunities are made possible thanks to the great generosity of the Rotary Foundation, especially that of the good folks that make up the Hillsborough Rotary Club.

UNC is the primary public university in Mendoza and the best in the western Argentina. Overwhelmingly, the top universities in Argentina are the public ones (most notably the University of Buenos Aires), which, in addition to offering a higher-quality education, are also much more affordable than private universities. In fact, in most cases Argentines attend public universities for free!

The political science department has a bit of a reputation around Mendoza. To many, we are at best useless dreamers and at worst crazy revolutionaries. As is the case during oppressive regimes around the world, Argentine Universities were at the heart of the resistance during military dictatorship of the 70s-80s, and in Mendoza the political science department of UNC was one of the leaders of that resistance charge. There are reminders of this history all over the building, from the mural of an approaching army massacring civilians on the university steps that greets you as you walk in the entrance to the scribbling on the bathroom stalls that demands we tear off the yoke of imperialist oppression saddled on us by capitalism and join the association of student communists. Given Mendoza’s majority conservative make up, I get all kinds of interesting reactions when I tell folks what department I’m in, from a sarcastic snicker or a sympathetic “ahh” to an impassioned rant about wasted public spending.

My program is made up of a series of seminars relating to public policy and social programming both in Argentina and in regional and global contexts. Over the year I will complete 8 of these seminars (half that of the full degree). My favorites so far have dealt with human rights policy, education policy and programming, and comparative social policy. Each seminar is taught by an expert in the discipline contracted by the department, a motley crew of academics and professionals including professors from Buenos Aires and Barcelona, a local human rights activist, and a leader of microfinance efforts in Mendoza. The latter was a jovial, eccentric man who, once he learned I was North American, took to calling out “Señorita Williamson” every time he mentioned the U.S. (not infrequently in lectures about global economics), whether or not he proceeded to ask my opinion of whatever US-related issue was at hand. Thus, I was perpetually on edge during his seminar (the first upon my arrival), as his eating-his-words style of speaking and tendency to talk more out the window than toward the students, coupled with my complete inexperience with the Argentine accent, meant I usually had little idea what he was talking about when he called for my country’s input. Sigh.

Half way through, I still don’t have a good idea of how many students are enrolled in the program, as their perpetual coming-and-going during class and not infrequent absences, coupled with the one or two new faces that arrive each seminar, lead me to believe we’ve still never all been in the room at one time. However, if I had to guess I’d say there are around 35-40 of us. We, too, are a motley crew, age-wise and professionally, at least. The youngest students are a couple of Colombians who started the program immediately after university graduation (22yrs old) and the oldest I would put above 50, though the majority are in their 30s-40s. The Colombians, one Peruvian, and I are the only foreigners, and the rest come from various towns and cities around Mendoza and surrounding provinces. The vast majority are working full-time in addition to studying—as sociologists, social workers, economists, teachers, activists, architects, lawyers, public servants and even one police officer—and many have families… which is to say it’s an interesting, engaging group of people who bring diverse perspectives into the classroom and who I see very little of outside of it.

My favorite aspect of the program is the space it provides each student to pursue the material in a personally or professionally relevant way. Evaluation of each seminar is based on a paper submitted at the seminar’s end, the only guidelines of which are to choose an issue related to the topic and material of the seminar and to research and write about it. Thus, though the seminar on Education Policy focused mostly on Argentina, for example, through my final paper I was able to explore and analyze access to higher education for undocumented immigrants around the United States, an issue of great interest to me.

Now, a couple (admittedly generalized) observations about education in Argentina:

- Punctuality is of little concern to students, and if the professor is bothered by its absence, s/he doesn’t let on

- Regular use of one’s cell phone for calls and texts during class time is entirely too permissible

- One of the top entries on the list of legitimate reasons to cancel class may or may not be soccer games (okay… so it was the World Cup, and the entire country does a Jekyll and Hyde complex when it comes to futbol… )

- There is something lost when a campus is less centralized/more departmentalized, there are fewer communal academic spaces, and no one lives anywhere near school (and thus everyone gets on buses and go their separate ways after class)

In addition to a variety of mechanical differences I’ve observed between the Argentine and U.S. classrooms, another, more important educational nuance has been on my mind these months. It relates to the approach to higher education on the whole, and for lack of a better name for the debate, I’ll call it Liberal Arts vs. Vocational Education (or U.S. vs. much of the rest of the world).

I feel like in the U.S. we sometimes like to complain about the functionality of a “liberal arts” education (especially around graduation time when we still haven’t found jobs…). I certainly am guilty of having questioned, if not the value of such and education, at least whether or not it’s the best approach for preparing us to be competitive, successful players and increasingly educated, skilled global arena. When compared with our peers around the world who graduate with “real” skills, already qualified for the professions they are about to enter, this methodological difference can seem an even greater disadvantage.

But more and more I am realizing just how valuable the type of university education we receive in the States is and coming to believe that, in fact, it prepares us better than those peers for the “real world.” It seems to me that, though we may have to continue on and obtain another degree to be officially competitive (whereas in Argentina one graduates university in 5 years with a professional license and many don’t even bother with graduate school), it’s worth it because we graduate both with wider exposure to the issues facing our world today (and their historical roots) and with a better understanding of diverse ways to tackle those issues. The variety of disciplines we must dip into, the breadth of issues we are exposed to and the depth with which we explore them, the mind-bending theoretical discussions and moral debates we are made to have, and the seemingly endless extracurricular offerings on our college campuses—lectures, forums, cultural performances, etc—contribute to making us generally well-rounded, thoughtful citizens when we graduate. No, I probably couldn’t get a job working for an environmental agency or in a health clinic, but at least I’ve been exposed to the issues they work on and have thought about what solutions in their work might look like. Many Argentine students, on the other hand, for having entered University already on track to their profession and without the same mandatory dipping into other departments (or the freedom/time in their class schedules to do so), leave no less intelligent or capable, but often with less exposure to myriad issues outside their profession and fewer tools to confront and deal with them.

I realize this is a generalization and I certainly have met thoughtful, well-rounded people in my surroundings here, of course, but they are fewer and farther between than I found in places like Chapel Hill and New Orleans. I hope I don’t sound condescending... you should all know I’m about the furthest from a west-knows-best/white supremacist as it gets! But nonetheless it’s an impression I’m coming away with and I want to hear your reactions. If you have thoughts on this topic, please speak up!

Interestingly, there is one space I’ve found this impression challenged (and the majority of people thinking critically about a wide range of issues and disciplines) is among my fellow students in the political science department… maybe there’s something to being a “useless, crazy revolutionary” after all…