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Kaleema Haidera

I grew up in student housing in Ann Arbor at the University of Michigan. I was a latchkey child. When I woke up for school in the mornings, my mother would already have been up, reading from her thick textbooks or scribbling frantically on a yellow legal pad. She'd have breakfast on the table, and she, my two siblings and I would be pulling on our coats and heading out the front door at the same time. In the evenings, we'd sit around the cleared breakfast table and do our homework together. She'd slide lemon drops, my favorite sweet, to me, when I got a row of multiplication tables right. I would copy her stern look of concentration when I read about the misadventures of Dick and Jane.

My mother came from a family of thirteen siblings. My grandfather was a struggling minister. My grandmother was the daughter of a sharecropping family from Hawkansville, Georgia. My grandmother had two years of college, and prided herself on being well-spoken and well-read. My mother was the first and only child of thirteen to go to college. She was mother to three when she received her M.FA from the University of Michigan, with honors. I remember the night of the graduation ceremony, though I was only in the fourth grade. The indelible picture in my mind is of my beautiful, brown-skinned mother walking across a stage lined with very impressive-looking, older white men. Each one clapped steadily and enthusiastically as she passed them - the last one handed her a plaque trimmed with gold and bowed ever so slightly.

As an African-American, I come from a people who consciously and passionately impress the value of education upon the next generation. Historically, we have been oppressed and underrepresented in mainstream economic, political, cultural, judicial, and educational institutions. It has been ingrained in us, one, that the next generation must do better than the one before, and two, that education will be the way in which we progress and overcome. My grandmother and my mother modeled for me that obtaining an education is critical, even if it means overcoming great odds. So did my community, that took such pride and joy in seeing me off to college. I'd never seen a wider smile on my grandmother's face than when I told her of my college plans.

I transferred to the Friends World program of Long Island University after 2 years at Stephens College, because of its mission statement to 'educate global citizens for social change.' I was also attracted to its experiential approach to education, which is a marriage of theory and practice. I'd taken several challenging courses - However, sitting at the Inter-American Human Rights Commission in San Jose, Costa Rica, listening to a pair of lawyers explain the case they were trying against Guatemala, step by step; or reading about assassinated human rights crusader, Maria Elena Moyano and then standing in a small town in Peru, listening to community leaders who knew and worked with her, tell me what she meant to them and
their community - really made me appreciate the power of a holistic education. I've become versed in cross-cultural communication, developed strong research and organizational methods, and widened my scope of foreign affairs and policy.

Upon returning from my studies in South America, I took a leave of absence, due to an increasingly critical health condition. I spent a semester and the summer, undergoing surgery and recovering. There were two factors that ultimately prevented me from enrolling for the fall semester: (1.) Money to pay an outstanding debt with Long Island University, went towards paying medical costs that insurance didn't cover and; (2.) I felt I had lost focus and needed to reconnect with those things that motivated my commitment to my academic and professional goals.

At the close of August, I became a VISTA*volunteer (Volunteers in Service to America). VISTA is often referred to as the 'domestic Peace Corps,' as it was modeled after the international program. As a VISTA, I coordinated !TeamWorks!, an adult service-learning program, 'graduating ' classes of 200 on a quarterly basis. I also launched !TeamWorks Latino!, a sister program for Spanish-speaking and bilingual persons wishing to serve in the Latino community. The things I accomplished with VISTA, the change I was able to affect in my community, were made possible through my education as a Friends World student. As I drew on the tools, resources, knowledge and experienced I gained as a FWP student, in order to better serve my community - I fell in love all over again with my education, and I couldn't wait to return to it.

The end of July brought another unexpected turn of events. I was leaving the office for lunch, on foot, and was involved in an accident that left me with severe muscular and nerve damage. I was in recovery for 2 years, which included physical and drug therapy and medical procedures. I was also left with substantial medical bills. My hope of returning to complete my senior year at Friends World grew more and more distant. When I received my financial aid package, I was heartbroken. It just wasn't enough. We'd just paid off over $3,000 to the school, which had been an extended family effort to get me back in school. Christine Stromski suggested that I write a letter of appeal. I sent it away with few hopes I would receive more money, I was already benefiting from Friends World Merit and other funds. I received two revised financial aid award letters; the second covered my entire senior year.

I am in London now. A few weeks ago I was in Greece on a small island called Spetses, for our Area studies trip. The sun was shining and I was walking along the shoreline listening to the waves. I looked out into the Mediterranean Ocean that stretch on beyond my own limited vision, and I cried. I thought about all the possibilities that lay out there. I thought about the dreams I'd given up on because I didn't see how I could live them.

Next month, I am traveling to Geneva, Switzerland to spend a week observing the hearings of the United Nations High Commission for Human Rights, and meeting with committee members. Upon graduating, I will continue on to law school, in order to become an International Human Rights lawyer.

To say that I am grateful to Long Island University is not nearly enough. The depth of my appreciation for the opportunity to again be in the service of my dreams is nearly inexpressible. Indeed, my dreams became a collective dream, nurtured by the pure kindness of heart of Mary Graves, the understanding and compassion of Leda Trejos, the efficiency and warmth of Janet Davidson, and my heroines in the financial aid department! There is an African word, ashe - it means, and so it is...