"Ashley, You're strong - Don't cry." These are the words one of my colleagues said to me while I stood in the middle of a classroom with about 20 students in front of me and 2 more colleagues off to the side. "I know" I responded; I said I wasn't going to cry...
How do I put into words what the (approximate) 582 days with my "kids" have been like. Its been a rollercoaster. Extreme bouts of happiness, joy, sadness, defeat, uncertainty, excitement and appreciation in addition to indescribable emotions have been felt these past 2 years at site. I came into this situation with some teaching practice behind me in various capacities, yet nothing prepared me for the experience that I was about to embark on when I walked into school on September 1, 2015. However, even the brief moment of reflection from that moment, that I had when I walked into school on September 5, 2016 was drastically different. I knew my kids, I had a rhythm, my counterpart was amazing and I had the last year to grown from. Even with all the reflection and being present, nothing prepared me for June 23, 2017.
I came to Peace Corps for my students. For those that would follow me home just to have a small conversation, or just to say they were (awkwardly) in my presence {You walk 10 ins home with up to 10 3-8 graders behind you just following you pa fjalet - without words- and you tell me how YOU feel}.
So rewind it back to the last week of school. We were able to celebrate our School Day - which is a tradition of celebrating the schools founding date throughout schools in Kosovo- on June 20. Usually there is dancing, a short program and special guests. That day I saw the smiles of my students and how they just enjoyed and celebrated where they are. That moment truly touched me. Looking from the upstairs window, out into the courtyard while 200+ students danced, sang, took pictures, smiled and just enjoyed the place they are being educationally reared. No words can describe that feeling and the energy that pulsated throughout the school that day. Now, fast forward to Friday, I had been planning on doing something for the kids and I settled on letters- letting them know my hopes and dreams for them, as well as how much they impacted me in my time here, I felt was the best "gift" I could give them. The day finally came to distribute the letters and I don't know if the kids really understood what work went into the letters, or why - to me- they were so important. So I handed out the letters, let the kids talk with me and we took pictures.
Then the time came for me to go and I gave each one who came a "final hug" and about half way through I just start crying. I wasn't expecting to. Yet two years of laughter, yelling and/or screaming, proud moments, high fives, awkward pauses, lack of understanding and so much more led me here. To "Good-bye". I wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions and memories which were saturating my thoughts while I battled to "stay present" and enjoy this moment with my kids. Yet, despite my attempt, I just let it go. I allowed the tears to flow. I tried to stop but something in me just said "no."
Now, Kosovar culture isn't the most emotionally open, and my emotionally in-tune self with my bursts of excitement, or sadness and very evident displays of how I am feeling stick out like a sore thumb. However, to me, it was important for my kids to see my emotions. To know - THEY are the ones that caused this display of emotions for me. They impacted ME. I told them, I said I wouldn't cry, and its not that I am sad, I am just going to miss them. Even that explanation is completely wrong. Even trying, to write this blog causes me to want to delete it all and start from scratch. But words will never be able to effectively describe what these 2 years, five hundred and eighty plus days, emotions, letters and feelings mean.
When I "imagined" my last day of school, this wasn't what I pictured. It would be fun, maybe some cake, laughs, music and hugs and pictures. It was pretty, it was possible, but it was a dream. You spend up to three months preparing yourself to integrate, learn and be part of a community (communities) but what about when you leave? This is the part they can't adequately prepare you for. Peace Corps does its best to get you ready, trained and culturally aware to serve in your host country; yet they can't prepare you on how to act, respond and experience when it is time to leave. You get a quick de-brief at your close of service, but how do you effectively start to sever ties, and close out relationships? You don't - or at least you can't. You do your best to prepare and then.... Well, then we will just see how it goes. Time for me to start figuring it out myself....
How do I put into words what the (approximate) 582 days with my "kids" have been like. Its been a rollercoaster. Extreme bouts of happiness, joy, sadness, defeat, uncertainty, excitement and appreciation in addition to indescribable emotions have been felt these past 2 years at site. I came into this situation with some teaching practice behind me in various capacities, yet nothing prepared me for the experience that I was about to embark on when I walked into school on September 1, 2015. However, even the brief moment of reflection from that moment, that I had when I walked into school on September 5, 2016 was drastically different. I knew my kids, I had a rhythm, my counterpart was amazing and I had the last year to grown from. Even with all the reflection and being present, nothing prepared me for June 23, 2017. 
Personally, and honestly, I have had lots of personal uncertainty during my Peace Corps experience. "Was I meant to be here, was I being appreciated, was I making a positive impact, am I strong enough to endure this"? - were all questions that produced themselves throughout my service. Yet something kept me here. Through being simultaneously annoyed, mentally checked out at times and frustrated with the happenings of my Peace Corps life I remained dedicated and persistent in my task. It didn't take me long to realize why. My kids! My students. They were (so weird to put it in past tense) my driving force throughout my service. The smiles, hugs, those invisible lightbulbs when they actually understood something, the laughter - usually at me and my silliness, their questions and enthusiasm just to see and say hello to me. They were and are my why.
I came to Peace Corps for my students. For those that would follow me home just to have a small conversation, or just to say they were (awkwardly) in my presence {You walk 10 ins home with up to 10 3-8 graders behind you just following you pa fjalet - without words- and you tell me how YOU feel}.
For those students who never really believed in their English abilities, but now understand me when I speak and they can respond in a confident manner. The students who are just excited to get a "Hello.../ Good Morning/ see you tomorrow etc". Now don't be confused, this is not some rant to glorify myself and say how awesome I am. Far from it. I just realized and am accepting the role I played in helping another generation. Two years of misunderstanding and tears; laughter and high-fives and the occasional hug is what got me here.
So rewind it back to the last week of school. We were able to celebrate our School Day - which is a tradition of celebrating the schools founding date throughout schools in Kosovo- on June 20. Usually there is dancing, a short program and special guests. That day I saw the smiles of my students and how they just enjoyed and celebrated where they are. That moment truly touched me. Looking from the upstairs window, out into the courtyard while 200+ students danced, sang, took pictures, smiled and just enjoyed the place they are being educationally reared. No words can describe that feeling and the energy that pulsated throughout the school that day. Now, fast forward to Friday, I had been planning on doing something for the kids and I settled on letters- letting them know my hopes and dreams for them, as well as how much they impacted me in my time here, I felt was the best "gift" I could give them. The day finally came to distribute the letters and I don't know if the kids really understood what work went into the letters, or why - to me- they were so important. So I handed out the letters, let the kids talk with me and we took pictures.
Then the time came for me to go and I gave each one who came a "final hug" and about half way through I just start crying. I wasn't expecting to. Yet two years of laughter, yelling and/or screaming, proud moments, high fives, awkward pauses, lack of understanding and so much more led me here. To "Good-bye". I wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions and memories which were saturating my thoughts while I battled to "stay present" and enjoy this moment with my kids. Yet, despite my attempt, I just let it go. I allowed the tears to flow. I tried to stop but something in me just said "no." 
Now, Kosovar culture isn't the most emotionally open, and my emotionally in-tune self with my bursts of excitement, or sadness and very evident displays of how I am feeling stick out like a sore thumb. However, to me, it was important for my kids to see my emotions. To know - THEY are the ones that caused this display of emotions for me. They impacted ME. I told them, I said I wouldn't cry, and its not that I am sad, I am just going to miss them. Even that explanation is completely wrong. Even trying, to write this blog causes me to want to delete it all and start from scratch. But words will never be able to effectively describe what these 2 years, five hundred and eighty plus days, emotions, letters and feelings mean. 
When I "imagined" my last day of school, this wasn't what I pictured. It would be fun, maybe some cake, laughs, music and hugs and pictures. It was pretty, it was possible, but it was a dream. You spend up to three months preparing yourself to integrate, learn and be part of a community (communities) but what about when you leave? This is the part they can't adequately prepare you for. Peace Corps does its best to get you ready, trained and culturally aware to serve in your host country; yet they can't prepare you on how to act, respond and experience when it is time to leave. You get a quick de-brief at your close of service, but how do you effectively start to sever ties, and close out relationships? You don't - or at least you can't. You do your best to prepare and then.... Well, then we will just see how it goes. Time for me to start figuring it out myself....
So until the next time, shihemi....
- Ashley
