2012-07-10
My parents gave me the name Graham Collins. My first 18 years have been spent in Charlotte, North Carolina. I have grown up in the suburbs. Based on my position in the world, I am expected to behave and be respectful; work hard and make good grades; get into college and find a lucrative job;...
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2012-07-10
I first heard about Global Citizen Year during my sophomore year of high school. My older brother discovered the program and thought the mission of the program was both important and unique; something his sister would thrive in. Being only a sophomore, the thought of taking a year off from college did not seem like...
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2012-07-10
Sat Nam; Truth is my identity. A yogi mantra that I discovered in my first session of yoga 5 years ago, unaware of how much value it would hold to me in the future. I have always been one to question the way the world works. Why does society hold certain expectations and how have...
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2012-07-10
Hi everyone, I’m Liza Windmoeller and like almost everyone else I’m 18 and a recent graduate. I am from northern Wisconsin, a very small town called Phillips. Our population is barely 2,000 and our ethnic diversity is sorely lacking. But needless to say it is the place I call home. I sat here for a...
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2012-07-10
The first thing I remember was the graffiti. Stucco buildings had drawings and words scrawled across their whitewashed walls. Stray dogs sulked past windows with metal grates, scavenging for dinner. The arid air was thick with cigarette fumes and exhaust from passing mopeds. Strangely dressed teenagers passed around suspicious looking bottles, laughing and smoking. I...
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2012-07-10
“After much anticipation, we hope you will be excited learn that you will be spending your Global Citizen Year in Senegal!” As these words sunk into my head, a memory surfaced amongst waves of excitement and nervous energy. The memory is that of an event which seemed insignificant at the time. It was a typical...
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2012-07-10
As a child, I became very well acquainted with the 242 miles of Wisconsin highway stretching between my grandparents’ house and my own. For as long as I can remember, my brother and I would count down the miles to Grandma’s molasses cookies and Grandpa’s homegrown vegetables from the back seat of our Dodge Caravan....
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