Sorry, Alice.

As Alice reminded me, I haven't blogged in far too long. I'm sitting at "work" (internship) right now; my supervisors are out to work, and I've finished everything they left me to do... so here I am. Back to the blog.

Internship is like a transition into the real world; not quite adult, only partly student. I've been here a week, and it's already a bit of a rollercoaster. Some days I think, "Man, I've really found my calling." And other days I wonder if it's not too late to start over in another field.

I'm interning at a family resource center. We have GED classes, English as a Second Language classes, classes for dads having a hard time paying child support, classes for unemployed men and women referred by DHR, classes for single parents, etc. Needless to say, I'm working with a very very diverse population of people. The majority are low-income or unemployed African American women, but a slew of white women come through as well. A lot of them come from Hannah Home, a shelter for women who have found themselves victims of domestic violence. Sometimes it's really exciting to see them picking up the pieces of their shattered lives, but a lot of times it's particularly devastating.

For as long as I can remember, all my needs have been met. I have never hungered or wanted for anything and, for that matter, I have never had extensive contact with people in these circumstances. When I worked at a pharmacy in high school, I would have brief conversations with and the occasional delivery to the "projects" but that's the extent of it. So I'm here in the midst of the poor Tuscaloosa, uneducated Tuscaloosa, unloved Tuscaloosa.

And I'm terrified. Really, really terrified. My stomach knots up when I think about it. So far I've basically trained and observed, but at some point I'll be teaching classes. Me. Priviliged me, teaching a group of people that I have little to nothing in common with. I'll stand before them, completely non-credible for anything I'll be teaching save the lesson plan in front of me, and teach them skills that I myself have never needed to use. And they're supposed to take my word for it. They're supposed to change the way they've been living their lives because I read a few guidelines off a sheet of paper.

I pray that I can reach them someway or another. I pray that they not laugh me out of the room. I pray that I provide them with the smile that so many people don't "waste" on them.

I'm going to try and be more consistent with my blogging now. I'd really like to keep a track of my internship and new life here outside of the bogus reflection papers I turn in to my professor.