I've spent nearly twenty-nine years being awkward and clumsy, seemingly incapable of controlling where my mind wanders or how my body moves. In middle school, I walked into an air conditioning unit on the side of a portable and was gushing blood from my head for a good five minutes before Mrs. Neelands let me go to the clinic for help. Despite playing basketball on and off for nearly two decades I can still barely dribble with my right hand (or my left, to be honest). I sweat in cold weather like I'm in a sauna, and in hot weather like I'm on the surface of the sun. Even with years of practice in public speaking, and even with my boatloads of put-upon confidence, I was not prepared for this job training.
Imagine being sat in a room and told that you are about to undertake a magical journey. You will experience a beautiful new world, unlock a hidden potential lurking within, and make myriad new friends, all while enriching the lives of young people and their communities. But there's a catch, and it's that first you have to be repeatedly kicked in the genitals while feeling silently mocked for their shape or size. So to prepare, you watch some videos of other people being kicked in the genitals, except they are experienced pros, so it's more like you're watching a video of someone's genitals being gently massaged while the giver lavishes them with praise.
Now it's your turn, and it's back to the steel-toed boots. First you will demonstrate a basic self-introduction, and never will you feel so uncertain about the words "Hey everyone, nice to meet you, my name is so-and-so and I'm from this-and-that!" because maybe you're saying it too fast or too loud or nobody has ever heard the name 'so-and-so' so would you mind repeating that first? And really, why would you lead with your name and hometown first, when you could instead give a bright and cheery "Good Mornin' Y'all!" with a big exaggerated hand wave? Words become a precious resource, to be used sparingly and yet with all the joy you'd typically reserve for the first time you tick a really great new Kellerbier. Quickly you pick up an entirely new version of your own tongue, modified and adapted for the audience, and just as quickly you are told that this new version is not good enough, so there's another jab, this time lighter yet with a bitter sting.
Feelings of hopelessness start to become the norm, and you wonder if the lashing is worth the reward. Fortunately you find solace in the shared misery, or at least discontent, of your peers. Some are veterans, perturbed by and disinterested in the methods being taught (and the methods with which the methods are taught). Others are like yourself, bright-eyed newbies with big dreams for their new domain. You grab lunch, sometimes foods that are entirely new to you, occasionally a stab at some foreign attempt at food from the motherland. There are burritos which mostly resemble those from home, and pizzas which mostly do not. This time you return to practice playing a game, except nothing about the game seems fun and the lesson behind the game seems ill-conceived at best, actively harmful at worst. Again you are told that you speak too fast, again you go to sleep wondering if you'll even make it past the torture.
Finally the last day arrives, and it is startlingly painless. So much has changed, and so fast, and you feel like everything is easy. Sure, you still suck at arranging things on a board, and you might occasionally forget about an entire part of the lesson, and you might accidentally make a wrong gesture or say a word that goes right over everyone's head. But at least now you're just being chastised for the underwear you've worn over your privates, and told that if you just switched to a simpler pair you'd probably get along great. All told, you've lived just a handful of days, but they felt like a lifetime of optimism, and struggle, and hope, and setbacks, and, ultimately, real development.
In two weeks, you will be kicked really, really hard. Time to live another life.
Post-Script: If you're into pain, this metaphor probably failed for you. This post is not meant to discredit or disenfranchise the lifestyle choices and brain wiring of any other humans. Thanks to Chris, Philip, Bryce, Kelsey, Kevin G., Kevin B., Akeem, Dennis, Sarah, Yanique, Kelsey, and Johnathon for the lovely companionship we shared, and to anyone else who I forgot as well.
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