by Chris Horst | Oct 13, 2009 | Blog |
Melody (student names are changed) is a friendly, out-going student. However, it’s clear that her self-confidence is struggling this year. Her mom shared that her weight has become an issue recently and her peer interaction isn’t great. Progress reports indicate that she’s a couple grade levels behind in literacy (typical for most of my students).
Melody’s grasp of English is also continuing to develop. She compensates for this by raising her hand anytime she thinks a question potentially could be asked. She might not know the answer, might not understand the question, and might not even have a thing she wants to say, but she firmly believes that a hand in the air is better than nothing. She’s willing to do just about anything to have her voice at the table, but it’s clear that she feels frustration with her comprehension and communication.
A simple interaction with her taught me a lot about the power of direct feedback. I’ve been told over and over to not just say “Great job”. “Great job” connected to a specific action carries much more weight. My co-lead teacher exemplified this beautifully earlier this semester:
Melody: I noticed there are right angles in all our classroom’s windows and doors.
Teacher: Melody, that comment was very smart. Thank you for sharing it with the class.
Melody: That was the first smart thing I’ve ever said!
What a heart-warming moment. Such a genuine response.
Defining moments happen when we directly connect our praise to specifics. I’m working on developing this skill in the classroom and relationships.
(Alli)
by Chris Horst | Oct 4, 2009 | Blog |
Living at Joshua Station is truly a joy. Alli and I have quickly accustomed ourselves to the roar of the highway, the dated exterior, the industrial neighborhood, and the fact that we’re living in a transitional housing program. We cherish the relationships we’ve built with our neighbors and truly have come to enjoy living in this converted roadside motel more than we enjoyed our hip downtown apartment where we resided previously.
Life at Joshua Station is not without its challenges, however. The most saddening aspect is the lack of dependable men in the lives of the 50 children who live here. Of the 28 resident families, there are remarkably 26 single-moms. Many of the fathers are in jail, several have restraining orders because of past abuses, and nearly all of them have completely failed their children.
A few weeks ago, we were babysitting two girls, age 5 and 6, for one of the residents, a single mom. While playing with the girls, the older sister asked, “Chris, can I call you daddy?” This was probably the saddest question I’ve ever been asked. And I honestly don’t even remember how I answered her. The truth is, I cannot fill the void of having an absentee father. And sometimes I’m not sure how much of an impact I can actually make here. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a fatherless home. I’ve never lived on the streets. There were never any doubts growing up that there would be food on the table.
In the midst of those personal insecurities, I know Alli and I have been called to be here. And we’ve been called to faithfully reflect Christ’s love to these families through small acts of tenderness and encouragement. We can’t heal the wounds that so many of these children have. We can do the little things. Alli and I hold hands when we walk to the car, make stove top popcorn together when neighbor kids drop-in and are quick with words of affirmation with children who so rarely hear them.
(Chris)
by Chris Horst | Sep 27, 2009 | Blog |
This Thursday we welcomed Graham Marc Wolgemuth into the world.
His parents, my brother and sister-in-law ha
This Thursday we welcomed Graham Marc Wolgemuth into the world. His dad and champ-of-a-mom , my brother and sister-in-law, have entered in the parenting world beautifully (as you can tell).
And this proud aunt might have already started planning the camping trip we’re going to take him on someday. I should probably hold off until he can talk… and walk… and sleep through the night.
(Alli)
by Chris Horst | Sep 23, 2009 | Blog |
Lancaster, Pennsylvania is the home of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, the nation’s oldest-running farmer’s market, and HOPE International. It also has one of the largest Amish communities in the country. Recently, while in Lancaster, I visited Costco and noticed hitching posts in the parking lot where Amish customers could park their buggies.
Costco is headquartered in Seattle, Washington. While I can’t verify this, I’d guess that Lancaster is their only store with hitching posts. If Costco had used one of their standard site plans, that detail would have surely slipped through the cracks. Only through soliciting the input of Lancaster residents could they develop a strategy relevant to the local economy and culture. By bringing in the expertise and contributions of individuals familiar with the Lancaster market, Costco developed an appropriate and localized plan for their operations.
If this complexity exists across a single country, how much more are these variances multiplied when operations transcend borders, languages, cultures and economies? It is often surprising to our supporters when I share that less than one percent of our staff members internationally are not native to the country where they are working. Of HOPE’s 1,500 loan officers, branch managers, clerks and country directors employed across 14 countries, 1490 (99.3%) are working in their home country.
There are many benefits to this approach. Employing national staff members creates local jobs and is significantly less expensive than sending Americans. But, there is also strategic value gained by hiring Rwandans in Rwanda, Moldovans in Moldova and Haitians in Haiti. They understand their context. If an executive in Seattle would have trouble planning a new Costco in his own country, how can we expect to operate successfully internationally without employing local community members?
In Ukraine, we recently saw this exemplified when we encouraged our Ukrainian country director to hire a human resources director to coordinate the growing team. After encouraging him in that direction, he shared that the human resources profession doesn’t actually exist in Ukraine. He suggested instead that HOPE Ukraine reorient their existing team to solve the problem. A solution only a Ukrainian national would propose. In the Dominican Republic, one of our American interns recently was interviewing a client and, from her experience in marketing, asked a client why she did not put a sign on the front of her house advertising her business. The client laughed heartily and responded, “Why? Everyone in my community knows me! A sign would not be appropriate.”
Depending on local participation is critical as no one understands the context better. It’s true with Costco establishing a store in Lancaster, and it’s true with HOPE operating programs in 14 countries.
(Chris)
by Chris Horst | Sep 21, 2009 | Blog |
It should have been a clue about my future when at seven years old I insisted that my friends interview to determine who would be our “teacher” during pretend school. I’m not sure many second graders care enough about their imaginary education to insist upon those standards.
It was a clue, but a clue that went unnoticed until just a couple of years ago.
While in college I began to have my eyes opened to the astounding education issues in the United States (primarily urban schools). Witnessing these same issues in Tanzania developed my understanding of the injustice occurring. Schools were not acting as the “great equalizer” I assumed they were. I took every opportunity in my Political Science course to research and write about education (Undocumented Children and Our Public Schools, Civic Education, senior paper on No Child Left Behind, etc…).
I explored a number of options for what this interest meant for me as a young grad looking for a work in possession of a Political Science degree. Not exactly the ideal resume, but I found a program which fit the bill beautifully and which seemed to think I would fit their bill as well.
Denver Teacher Residency (DTR) is an innovative program which launched this summer. Partnering with University of Denver and Denver Public Schools, it prepares professionals to work in Denver’s high-needs classrooms. Check out the website for more information.
Consider this my intro to what’s probably going to be my favorite blogging topic. I can’t wait to discuss the achievement gap, my students’ ridiculous quotes, and ideas on addressing this civil rights issue. What a teaser… hope you can sleep tonight.
(Alli)
