Project People

Last Friday, I didn’t have class until 2PM, but I found myself up at 7AM, bleary-eyed and groggy, dragging myself over to the North Aztlan Community Center. To be clear: I am a college student. I like my sleep. So why was I passing up a chance for an extra six hours sleep? I was volunteering at Project Homeless Connect.

Project Homeless Connect is an annual event put on in partnership between the SLiCE office, United Way of Larimer County, Homeward 20/20, and many other community organizations. The goal of Project Homeless Connect is to make important resources available to the local Fort Collins homeless population, easily and without bureaucratic red tape. Volunteers are matched up one-on-one with clients, and volunteers are responsible for guiding their partner around the event, connecting them to services and educating them on resources.

While that is helpful work, and I did plenty of it last Friday, the services rendered aren’t what I remember. The clients I helped to get their hair cut for the first time in weeks, ate a hot meal with, and get employment assistance will hopefully remember the services, but I will remember them. I remember the people I met, and the connections I forged, not on a service level, but on a personal level. I found myself thinking about these people all weekend. I find myself thinking about these people, here, today.

TYLER

During the five hours I spent at Project Homeless Connect, I was paired with only two clients, which meant I had a lot of time to get to know both of them. My first client-for  anonymity let’s call him Tyler-was one of the very first people in line, waiting for the doors to open at eight o’clock. Tyler told me that the shelter where he was staying turned people out at 6:15 AM, and he didn’t really have anywhere better to go than straight to the PHC line. On the exit survey, his suggestion to improve the event was to “start earlier.”

Tyler’s a recovering alcoholic. Tyler’s homeless, living out of a shelter. Tyler’s also a rabid fan of one of my favorite sports teams, the Colorado Avalanche, and we were able to spend a good thirty minutes talking over coaching decisions, our experiences going to games, and the relative ups and downs of the team’s current defense. None of my friends like hockey– I never really get the chance to discuss it with anyone outside of the internet. Just getting the chance to see that interest, have the discussion, made me look at Tyler in a different way.

The day after Project Homeless Connect, sitting in the lower level of the Pepsi Center, watching the Avalanche achieve a rare, last-second victory over the Vancouver Canucks, I thought about Tyler. I wondered if he was watching the game somewhere– maybe sitting forlornly in a sports bar, sipping on a water. I thought about how, but for a few factors beyond our control, it could be him in the Pepsi Center, me, who knows where.

MICHAEL

After Tyler had gotten all the assistance he needed, he went back to the shelter to grab his bike and bring it in for a tune-up, a service he hadn’t been aware we would offer. I would see him later in the day, hanging around with a happy smile, boxing with someone else’s kid. I suspect he was just happy for something to do.

I went back in line and waited for another client who might need my help. In front of me in the volunteer queue was a woman, Amy, who had lived with on my floor in the dorms. This used to be a woman I would see every day. “You’re so different from that little nerd freshman year,” she says, as we get to talking. I laugh, a little. She inquires about my love life, I about hers, and we catch up a bit while we ponder the different paths life has taken us down.

Even within the constriction of university life, sharing a common starting point, Amy and I have diverged wildly from each other. The plurality of experience offered at a four-year college is something it’s easy to forget about, as focused in on our own lives as college students can often get. This is what I’m thinking about when a volunteer coordinator pulls the two of us out of the line, and over to a group of three “vaguely unrelated” people, whose current volunteers must to return to campus for class.

Here I meet Michael. I can immediately tell something is slightly off with him, from the way he talks and how his eyes move. This doesn’t bother me; after all, according to national statistics, about a third of homeless people have some sort of mental illness. We had been prepared for the possibility at volunteer training. And Michael, whatever his issue is, seems like a nice guy. He’s cogent, congenial, and although he has a little difficulty remembering what services he’s here for, he’s happy to chat with me and walk around.

I split off with Michael, while Amy takes his two companions in search of different services. Michael mostly is interested in bikes: he tells me that he loves mountain biking, and he once did “a thousand flips” while on a bike. I nod along, smiling. Michael’s new to town, looking for a place to live, but having difficulty finding cheap rent. I take him to the rent assistance table, and the housing search people. We go to see if we can get him a Colorado ID to replace his old out-of-state one.

As we’re walking around outside, enjoying a bit of sunshine and fresh air, out of the blue, Michael says: “I hear suicide voices.” Ah, so you’re a schizophrenic, I ask him. He nods assent. “As long as I take my pills, I don’t hear the suicide voices though,” he says, as if to comfort me. “I took my pills today. I take 20 different pill.”

Now I’m very intrigued. I’ve got an aunt who is schizophrenic, takes her pills every day, and you can’t hardly carry on a conversation with her at all. Despite occasional trouble understanding Michael due to his speech impediment, our conversation hasn’t flagged since I met him. In fact, he’s a downright chatterbox, more than happy to fill me in about his life, his struggles, or ask insightful questions about Fort Collins, a town to which he is still adjusting.

Again, I come back to thinking about how entirely different people can be, despite their similarities. Two people, my aunt and Michael. Same disease. Both in treatment. Michael here, homeless, my aunt off in New York, living under the roof of my aging grandmother, who never really stopped being a mother to her ill child. Michael, able to converse and think and say: “I want a picture of myself,” and walk right over to the photo booth and set up an appointment. My aunt, who gave me a three-sizes-too-large blue Old Navy thermal with a massive toothpaste stain on it the last time I saw her. I’ve kept the thing folded up in a drawer ever since I got it, for little discernible reason.

Homeless. College students. Employed. Unemployed. On the streets. In an apartment. Old. Young. Male. Female. There are so many binaries and divisions in the way we tend to think of people. It’s easy to see why we divide things this way: it makes them categorizable, it makes them understandable, and it allows us to study them. The academic model. But the true value in Project Homeless Connect, at least for me, was in the way it perfectly demonstrates how all of those binaries are nothing but obstacles. Those categorizations and social classifications are very misleading constructs that actually prevent us from being compassionate and understanding one of the universal truths:

That people are all a million different variations on the same story. Maybe your life turned in a few fortunate ways, maybe Tyler’s went in the wrong direction for a little bit. But no matter how different two people may seem, no matter how much you may insist that you are different, or better,

you’re not.

It never hurts to give thanks for what you’ve got.

And it never hurts to help.

What Can Your Facebook

Read an interesting article this morning.

 

Apparently, with the assistance of some computer algorithms  many facts about your life can be predicted simply from your Facebook “Likes.” These researchers are 88% effective at determining sexual orientation from facebook likes, 82% effective at distinguishing between Christians and Muslims, among other inferences.

 

That’s a little scary. Not necessarily because of the correlations they’ve found already, but more because of what could come after. As our society increasingly digitizes and we pour more and more of ourselves into the computer keyboard, will the notion of “that’s personal” start to disappear more and more? These are pretty boilerplate concerns with the evolution of the internet, I suppose. Just been on the mind today.

 

As the resident Social Media Coordinator here at SLiCE, I found this article contained very interesting information. Sure, it goes without saying that by telling people what you like, you are telling them about yourself. BUT is that information necessarily something you want marketers to have open access to? Would you be more selective with what you “Like” and post on social networks if it was made explicitly clear to you that everything can and will be used to market to you?

 

Curious about your thoughts on the matter.

President’s Leadership Program

Leadership used to be seen as a trait that one could inherent. The world operated as if
there was a “leadership gene” that a child could acquire from a parent, making them wise
enough to lead a country or innovative enough to run a company.

On Tuesdays during the academic year, a group of students gather in a unique classroom
environment that challenges this idea.

The President’s Leadership Program (PLP) is a comprehensive leadership experience that
can be encompassed through a sentiment expressed by Warren Bennis: “Leaders are not
born; they are made.”

PLP develops Colorado State University students into leaders in a way that enriches all
aspects of a student’s life.

“PLP is one of the most incredible programs at CSU,” senior Business Administration
major David Ovitsky commented, “It has drastically increased my understanding of
service and leadership, while connecting me with some amazing students who have a
positive impact on my life”

Ovitsky participated in the first and second year of the three year PLP program. As a part
of the first year PLP curriculum, he attended a service trip to Chimayo, New Mexico in
which his PLP class joined together with residents to dig ditches for cleaner water in the
area. In year two of the program, Ovitsky did a PLP sponsored internship with Velocity
Real Estate and Investments.

Each year in the three year program has a different focus and offers different
opportunities to the students involved.

•

The first year, A Call to Lead, is an introductory class which explores leadership
as service. Students in the 4 credit, year long class attend sessions on: basic
leadership theory, diversity, multiculturalism, and social justice, culminating in
the off-campus service trip.

•

The second year, Leadership as Life (a 4 credit course) is the intermediate class
where students apply leadership theory during an internship experience with local
non-profit or business organizations.

•

The last year is Leadership Capstone; a 6 credit, advanced course where students
study: organization behavior, leading change, and globalization as well as
problems related to power, privilege, and oppression. In the second semester,
students develop and implement a service project that positively impacts the Fort
Collins community.

A Call to Lead can be an extra special class for students in the first few years of their
CSU career because it is a great way to connect with other students. As student who
participated first year PLP during her first year at CSU, Destiny Darby appreciates the

community that she built with her class. “It has been great getting close to my peers,”
Darby said, “it is a fantastic way to get involved on campus and in my community.”

However, this sense of community is built through all PLP classes. Rachel Washington,
a Leadership Capstone student, sees PLP as a place to make an ally as well as a friend.
“Through having conversations with my class, I have gained an insight to how many
other students have similar passions as me,” Washington explained.

All PLP students must go through the same application process—even current PLP
students must reapply to the program every year. In addition, the three courses don’t
have to be taking consecutively. A student can apply to be in PLP during any part of their
career at CSU.

Applications for the 2013-2014 year are due on April 1st.

For more information and to access the online applications visit PLP.colostate.edu.

Leadership, SLiCE, PLP, President’s, Leadership, Program, applications, first year, Colorado, State, University, CSU

“I Never Thought I’d Be a Leader”

“Coming to college, I never thought I’d be a leader. No way. I figured, being a senior on the football team, that was the closest I’d ever get to being a leader in my life.”

My fraternity brother, founder, and former president Dylan Bretz uttered these words just the other day. We were standing around in the LSC, late at night, exhausted, frustrated, and engaging in the business of trying to lead an organization which we were all aware direly needed a little bit of direction.

People were mad at us, we weren’t happy with ourselves, and we were reminiscing a little bit amidst the crisis. We shared some smiles, some serious concerns, and parted with a reminder of how far we’d come. Dylan left to go to the library, and I went home to get some much needed sleep. The next morning, I woke up to a text message saying we’d achieved our first ever Seal of Approval- the university blessing for Greek organizations. Dylan had led our brand new fraternity through a successful year. It was official.

No small accomplishment from someone who never thought of himself as a leader. And now he’s uniquely poised to leverage that experience into future success.

Why the anecdote?

 

As an average student at a 30,000 person university, it’s easy to fade into the background. It’s expected, really- that’s just the nature of large groups. And it’s oh-so-easy to follow those expectations, because it doesn’t take any effort and you already know what it’s like. This is what Dylan expected from college. This is what most people get from college. It’s not a bad experience by any stretch of the imagination.

But here’s somewhat of a secret:

It’s just as easy to fly in the face of those expectations and become a person of note on campus (and in life). The tools are if the drive is there. You put yourself in the right situations and surround yourself with the right people, it can even happen accidentally, slowly, without you even noticing.

And as a person who was so unnoticeable in high school that a classmate still owes me $100 because she refused to believe that I graduated with her, let me tell you: putting yourself out there is way more worthwhile. More of an experience, too.

A huge mission of any university is to create leaders: knowledge is power, as they say, but power is only so useful without knowing how to leverage it. SLiCE, and Colorado State at large don’t spend so much time, money, and effort creating and marketing leadership programs because we want to annoy you. We do it because these opportunities benefit you and enrich you in ways you wouldn’t, or couldn’t, expect. Even if you think they’re not for you.

SLiCE alone offers many leadership opportunities. Many other offices on campus have similar abilities to produce and grow leaders. Greek Life will change you as a person. Any of the student organizations or clubs on Ramlink offers opportunities to grow in your interpersonal and leadership skills. Really, it takes more effort to be stagnant on a college campus than it does to grow. Embrace opportunities to build and challenge yourself- they’ll never be so readily available again.

And let’s not forget that these programs are subsidized by your student fees anyways, so may as well take advantage of what you’re paying for, right?

Don’t refuse to pursue an opportunity because you have some preconceptions about what you will be. I’m writing about one specific leader, and about a whole nonspecific group of non-leaders. Make me write about you.

Or at least see. See if you can defy your own expectations.

Bet you you’ll be surprised.

The UADY Experience

And finally, I was defeated. After months, years even, of asking me to apply for the UADY trip, my boss had finally convinced me to apply for the trip. “I’m too busy,” and “but it’s a lot of money,” were all excuses that I had exhausted trying to parry his constant stream of comments and judgmental looks. I had caved. And I am so glad that I did. I am so glad that my boss hadn’t given up on me, because if he would have held his tongue on that last comment, my life would have been completely different.

Three months later, a slew of meetings under my belt, I found myself in an airport with a group of groggy students boarding a plane for Mexico. As I stepped onto that plane, I had no idea that the week that would follow was to be one of the most memorable from my time here at CSU. In five of the longest days, with a schedule booked from 7 in the morning to 7 at night, busing all around the Yucatan, I fell in love with this exchange.

I fell in love with the places I went, the experiences I had, but most importantly, the people that I met. The relationships that I made that week have lasted through the years and transcended the thousands of miles and the border that separates us. Cabron, tío, and gemelito, once just vocab words in my Spanish class were now terms of endearment for specific people. These names came from inside jokes, cultural gaps, and true friendships made along the way.

Our time might have been spent touring their university, seeing museums and Mayan ruins, but more importantly it was spent 100% of the time with the UADY students. I learned about a new culture in a way that I had never done before, not as a tourist walking through a foreign city, reading out of a guidebook, but rather being guided around by the locals, seeing the good stuff, understanding my surroundings with a depth that cannot be described. A depth that can only come from hours of conversation, hours of translation errors, confused looks, and laughs.

I learned in those five days, something remarkable. I learned that there are students in a different country, who grew up in a different world, who have the same passions as me. I learned that while the problems we face might have different manifestations, these issues arise from the same roots. I learned that we have to go out of our comfort zone, we have to take that step and learn about the people around us, and we’ll learn that their struggles are our struggles and that their joys are our joys.

My name is Noah Sandoval, I am in my fifth year at CSU. I am studying engineering education and Spanish. I am currently the CSU/UADY Student Leadership exchange student coordinator. In the fall of 2013, I am planning on returning to UADY to complete a semester of student teaching. This would have never been possible without my experiences through this program and I am absolutely positive that this exchange program has changed the course of my life.

We are currently accepting applications for this exchange. We encourage all to apply but caution that it is a highly selective group. Learn more at http://slice.colostate.edu/csu-uady-exchange.aspx.

Pushers in the Plaza

What’s your preferred move for avoiding propaganda in the plaza? Do you determinedly try and avoid eye-contact with whatever preacher or student organization is trying to hand you a flyer? Do you pretend to be engaged in conversation with the closest stranger? Do you take a longer route so you don’t have to talk to anyone? Earphones?

 

There are a lot of options for the antisocial CSU student when crossing campus. And you need to employ almost all of them on an average day, if you don’t want to be stopped. Whether it’s the Greek organizations recruiting, Greenpeace seeking signatures, or incognito evangelists who only “want to ask you a couple questions,” crossing campus can kind of suck sometimes.

 

But here’s a funny fact: it sucks a lot more to be the person handing things out on the plaza. For instance: tomorrow, SLiCE will be in the plaza, doing what our marketing coordinator (my boss) calls a “stunt day” to promote RamLink. This means everyone in our office who can spare the time will be out on the plaza, trying to flag you down and engage you in a conversation. You can see why we do events like this- the plaza is an incredible location to engage an huge number of students every passing period. Literally thousands of the people SLiCE wants to reach most pass through the plaza after each class change. It’s an incredible marketing opportunity.

 

Students don’t much care for it though. As students, we pass by plaza marketers in droves, without even thinking. We unconsciously change our body language and alter our paths, nonverbally screaming: “DON’T TALK TO ME.” Everyone does it. Even the most outgoing and extroverted people often just want to get to their destination.

 

Tomorrow it’s my job to go out and talk to you. And trust me, the interaction of trying to catch students’ attention is every bit as anxiety-inducing as trying to avoid being snatched from a students’ perspective. It’s a very strange sort of encounter. I don’t particularly enjoy getting in your way and interrupting you. You don’t generally want to be stopped. So why the dance?

 

Few people on the plaza enjoy being the villan of your daily walk– they interrupt you because they truly believe what they have to say is worth your time. Now, is it always? No. And what is regarded as worthwhile varies from person to person according to personal beliefs. No one is on the plaza for the sole purpose of annoying you, although it may certainly feel that way sometimes. But next time you catch yourself blindly disregarding someone out on the plaza, why don’t you take just a few moments and consider what they have to say?

 

Because they’re out there for you.

A Step Back: A week after Campus Step Up

“Campus Step-Up: A Social Justice Retreat.” This was the program I’d been marketing for the last month or so. I didn’t know much about the experience past the talking points and the date the applications were due. So when my boss asked if I’d like to go to Campus Step-Up and write about the experience, I didn’t really know what I was getting into. 

As it turned out, I was getting into challenging the very precepts of our society. 

Sweet.

 

WHAT IS SOCIAL JUSTICE

 

This was our first goal at the retreat: to figure out what, exactly, it was that we were all here to discuss. 

And after 48 solid hours of work, we weren’t much closer to having a solid definition than we were at the start of the weekend.

Social Justice, as a concept, is maddeningly vague and subtle. As best I can put it, social justice is the act of working towards the ideal of a perfect and equal world; one where everyone can find equal footing, regardless of their race or sexual identity or socio-economic status or any other differentiating factor.

 

A LOFTY GOAL

 

As anyone with even the beginnings of a college degree will tell you- achieving social justice sounds near-impossible. Those of us who attended Campus Step-Up would agree. None of us will see our crusade through to the end. Probably even our children won’t succeed in completely accomplishing social justice. But that doesn’t mean it’s not work worth doing. In many ways, social justice should be the primary focus in our world, above many more societally valued things, because social justice is directly about people.

 

PEOPLE

 

It was truly the people that made Campus Step-Up a worthwhile experience for me. Nowhere else will you encounter such a diverse, thoughtful, well-rounded group of people. I recognized some faces when I arrived- a few of my fraternity brothers, coworkers form the SLiCE office, leaders from around campus, a man whom I’d met waiting in line for laser tag at the freshman carnival, when we were both juniors. Leaving the retreat on Sunday, I recognized every face. I knew every name. And I respected these people a lot more than some of my own friends, who I’d known for years.

 

THE DIFFERENCE A WEEKEND CAN MAKE

 

I know that sounds melodramatic, and it is. I won’t deny that. Being put in a respectful, well-moderated space like Campus Step-Up is a rare gift. Being allowed and driven to discuss issues and ideas that our society would often rather glaze over was a wonderful opportunity. Getting to meet the best people that CSU has to offer, for free (thanks student fees!) was excellent. Going home? Not so much.

 

BECAUSE THERE’S STILL LOTS TO DO

 

“It’s being gay, so it’s just playing off the phone.”  The weekend after Campus Step Up, I’m watching an inebriated girl try and work a stereo system. It’s not working out so hot for her. “I didn’t know speakers could have a sexual orientation,” I remark. She makes a rude hand gesture. “You know what I mean,” she says. And yeah, I do know what she means. I could have let it slide. I’ve let it slide plenty of times before. But that’s half the lesson of Campus Step-Up: social justice isn’t an ideal or a dream. It’s a commitment. It’s an obligation to fight just as hard for other people and groups and identities as you do for your own.There’s another definition of social justice.

And one more:

It’s an obligation that more people need to be reminded of.