What a beautifully simplistic concept for a photo story.
Pithy, haikuesque scribblings from an aspiring writer, trying to understand the universe in which he resides.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Communication in my job.
CIS Region: Central Asia. These are my people. They spent long hours studying correct article usage and past participles. Not that I did, but I recognize how hard they work. I read their essays. I know in what ways they think an AUBG education will broaden their global perspective and cultivate their capacity for social responsibility. They glimpse my eccentric hipster tendencies, when I add them on facebook, to develop a deeper more comprehensive connection with them. We are both savvy inhabitants of the information age, I am saying. "Hey! How is your application coming :)" I ask. I try to maintain the median of coherence in our present web lexicon. I have not yet stooped the to LOLs, but do throw in the occasional emoticon. This helps to keep a light tone when the topic dives into uncomfortable waters, like the inadequacies of their financial situation."Have you thought about taking out a loan? :$ :$ ". And on it goes.
When I speak to them though, I dont have the luxury of using colloquial adjectives like Dope and Sick and Hella, lest they think the tree is unintelligent or the cat is actually feeling unwell. I speak like a Teacher. I dont drop the G's in my gerunds or let my "no"s fall to "nah"s. I prop my speech up, with the candor of enunciation. The helpfulness spews out of me. Most of my sentences beging with "well" or "actually". "Actually, we the university dont actually issue you the visa. The country of Bulgaria has to do that." I try not to feel like a paper pushing bureaucrat, but sometimes I do.
They make grammar mistakes and cultural hijinks take place and occasionally these are very funny, but I do not laugh at them. Or at least not to their face. That would be insensitive and counter-productive. I am genteel and direct, the Wal Mart greeter of the University. There are so many factors beyond my control, that they will base their decision on. I just smile, push them in the right direction and give them a sticker.
When they find a better school, that has better programs or is giving them more money, I wish them well in their future endeavors and try not to feel a twinge of sadness at the loss. When they confirm, I do my best to squelch the blossom of pride I feel and stay professional.
When they get here they will have issues, just as I did, in assimilating. They will be different issues, but issues all the same. Issues of the innocent 17 year old. Our uniting strand, that we are the youthful denizens of Bulgaria, outsiders at home, however temporary it may be.
CIS Region: Central Asia. These are my people. They spent long hours studying correct article usage and past participles. Not that I did, but I recognize how hard they work. I read their essays. I know in what ways they think an AUBG education will broaden their global perspective and cultivate their capacity for social responsibility. They glimpse my eccentric hipster tendencies, when I add them on facebook, to develop a deeper more comprehensive connection with them. We are both savvy inhabitants of the information age, I am saying. "Hey! How is your application coming :)" I ask. I try to maintain the median of coherence in our present web lexicon. I have not yet stooped the to LOLs, but do throw in the occasional emoticon. This helps to keep a light tone when the topic dives into uncomfortable waters, like the inadequacies of their financial situation."Have you thought about taking out a loan? :$ :$ ". And on it goes.
When I speak to them though, I dont have the luxury of using colloquial adjectives like Dope and Sick and Hella, lest they think the tree is unintelligent or the cat is actually feeling unwell. I speak like a Teacher. I dont drop the G's in my gerunds or let my "no"s fall to "nah"s. I prop my speech up, with the candor of enunciation. The helpfulness spews out of me. Most of my sentences beging with "well" or "actually". "Actually, we the university dont actually issue you the visa. The country of Bulgaria has to do that." I try not to feel like a paper pushing bureaucrat, but sometimes I do.
They make grammar mistakes and cultural hijinks take place and occasionally these are very funny, but I do not laugh at them. Or at least not to their face. That would be insensitive and counter-productive. I am genteel and direct, the Wal Mart greeter of the University. There are so many factors beyond my control, that they will base their decision on. I just smile, push them in the right direction and give them a sticker.
When they find a better school, that has better programs or is giving them more money, I wish them well in their future endeavors and try not to feel a twinge of sadness at the loss. When they confirm, I do my best to squelch the blossom of pride I feel and stay professional.
When they get here they will have issues, just as I did, in assimilating. They will be different issues, but issues all the same. Issues of the innocent 17 year old. Our uniting strand, that we are the youthful denizens of Bulgaria, outsiders at home, however temporary it may be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)