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It's both wonderful and sad. The closer it gets to the 26th, the more I want to be home. To see my family, my friends. To give hugs. To make visits. To drive. Even to work. But in these past few days I've really been making efforts to spend time with the people I won't see again, and it's making me not want to leave.
On Tuesday we had the debrief for the American students, where we talked about all the good and bad things about this program. The fun times we've had. The things that went wrong. What future students should be warned about or what things should never be changed. The first half was actually pretty predictable. Funny, but slow. We started at 9am and were set to go to 9pm. Everyone was ready for a long day.
We weren't ready for that evening. We relocated from the school to Kimberly Spragg's apartment, all 34 of us squeezing in tight, and then she told us what we'd be doing. Going around the room, she had two people speak up and say words of encouragement for each individual, then a third would pray. Within minutes, nearly every person in the room was crying. I think the only ones who stayed tear free were Kimberly, the two guys, and Becca who said she never cries at things like this. The rest of us were hopeless.
It was really beautiful, and really moving to hear everyone. To know that we've touched others and we've been touched in return. And heartbreaking to know that it was the last time we would all be together like that. Some students have already left. Karisa left to go home today, and about 5 more are leaving this weekend or early next week. This is goodbye, already.
And then there are the Australians. I went to the end of year dinner, which was actually a desert cruise on Sydney Harbor. We dressed up, making as big a deal as if it were prom minus the dates, and went out. Almost all of the school came, Aussies and Americans alike. It was beautiful. We could see the city lights and the opera house from the boat and there was dancing. It was all fast songs, which I usually don't dance to, but I didn't want to just sit it out. I danced so much, and had so much fun. It was so freeing to just not care how silly I looked. I still say I can't dance, though. Actually, it was a relief that there weren't any slow songs. It meant I didn't have to worry over guys and I just enjoyed myself. So much fun.
DJ (Dr. David Johnston, our principal) is still upset that I'm not staying until Dec. 4th for the performance. Now he claims he didn't realize that I couldn't afford the food and he had every intention of providing it for the extra week. Silly man. That doesn't help me if he didn't tell me. But either way, I'm glad I'll be coming home. It would have been quite an experience, though. Iain Court told me I should stay. When I told him my parents would kill me for changing plane tickets now (not to mention Shan) he told me to tell them that DJ made me do it, so they would kill him instead. lol.
Iain says he's taking a job in Wisconsin next year, so he's probably going to do a tour of the CCCU colleges to see if their drama departments want him to direct shows, teach seminars, whatever. Which means he's probably going to stop by Olivet sometime before I graduate. I'm excited. Iain has been my favorite professor here. How cool to have my Australian Drama professor come help out our theater department. The Lord knows the help wouldn't hurt. ;)
It's odd... I'm glad I'm writing this all down, so I don't forget it. And I want to keep everyone updated. But it feels like words can't capture it. At least, not so briefly. I can't capture the pounding of the music on the boat, or how the night flowed from insecurity, to deseperately trying to fit in, to somehow it just happening. I can't describe how nervous I was during the debrief that I'd somehow been to selfish and no one would have anything genuine to say about me. That maybe I'd complained too much. And the heartstopping second when no one said anything. And then the tears when people did, and the gratitude. I can say it, but it doesn't even begin to describe it. Maybe I'll use it in a story, some day. But for now, I just hope this will help me remember. I don't want to forget.
On Tuesday we had the debrief for the American students, where we talked about all the good and bad things about this program. The fun times we've had. The things that went wrong. What future students should be warned about or what things should never be changed. The first half was actually pretty predictable. Funny, but slow. We started at 9am and were set to go to 9pm. Everyone was ready for a long day.
We weren't ready for that evening. We relocated from the school to Kimberly Spragg's apartment, all 34 of us squeezing in tight, and then she told us what we'd be doing. Going around the room, she had two people speak up and say words of encouragement for each individual, then a third would pray. Within minutes, nearly every person in the room was crying. I think the only ones who stayed tear free were Kimberly, the two guys, and Becca who said she never cries at things like this. The rest of us were hopeless.
It was really beautiful, and really moving to hear everyone. To know that we've touched others and we've been touched in return. And heartbreaking to know that it was the last time we would all be together like that. Some students have already left. Karisa left to go home today, and about 5 more are leaving this weekend or early next week. This is goodbye, already.
And then there are the Australians. I went to the end of year dinner, which was actually a desert cruise on Sydney Harbor. We dressed up, making as big a deal as if it were prom minus the dates, and went out. Almost all of the school came, Aussies and Americans alike. It was beautiful. We could see the city lights and the opera house from the boat and there was dancing. It was all fast songs, which I usually don't dance to, but I didn't want to just sit it out. I danced so much, and had so much fun. It was so freeing to just not care how silly I looked. I still say I can't dance, though. Actually, it was a relief that there weren't any slow songs. It meant I didn't have to worry over guys and I just enjoyed myself. So much fun.
DJ (Dr. David Johnston, our principal) is still upset that I'm not staying until Dec. 4th for the performance. Now he claims he didn't realize that I couldn't afford the food and he had every intention of providing it for the extra week. Silly man. That doesn't help me if he didn't tell me. But either way, I'm glad I'll be coming home. It would have been quite an experience, though. Iain Court told me I should stay. When I told him my parents would kill me for changing plane tickets now (not to mention Shan) he told me to tell them that DJ made me do it, so they would kill him instead. lol.
Iain says he's taking a job in Wisconsin next year, so he's probably going to do a tour of the CCCU colleges to see if their drama departments want him to direct shows, teach seminars, whatever. Which means he's probably going to stop by Olivet sometime before I graduate. I'm excited. Iain has been my favorite professor here. How cool to have my Australian Drama professor come help out our theater department. The Lord knows the help wouldn't hurt. ;)
It's odd... I'm glad I'm writing this all down, so I don't forget it. And I want to keep everyone updated. But it feels like words can't capture it. At least, not so briefly. I can't capture the pounding of the music on the boat, or how the night flowed from insecurity, to deseperately trying to fit in, to somehow it just happening. I can't describe how nervous I was during the debrief that I'd somehow been to selfish and no one would have anything genuine to say about me. That maybe I'd complained too much. And the heartstopping second when no one said anything. And then the tears when people did, and the gratitude. I can say it, but it doesn't even begin to describe it. Maybe I'll use it in a story, some day. But for now, I just hope this will help me remember. I don't want to forget.
