fulbright!

The laminated yellow slip in my mailbox informing me that I had a package did not raise any alarm bells, only a slight curiosity as to who sent me a package. When I exchanged it for a manila envelope from the "International Education Institution," I figured it was just another piece of junk mail, and proceeded to open it while I walked to my next appointment. The Fulbright letterhead immediately halted my stride. In a moment's hesitation I realized that six months of waiting was soon to be over. Upon receiving the news of this package, I would either be unbelievably elated or entirely depressed.

Back up half a year.

In October of 2009 I submitted an application for an English Teaching Assistant (ETA) grant to South Korea through Fulbright. I had decided while I was studying at Oxford that I love international travel and cultural immersion and wanted to incorporate this into my future plans. I had heard of Fulbright previously, and so I began the application process involving choosing a country, filling out multiple forms, obtaining reference letters, writing various essays, and having an interview. There are two components to a Fulbright Grant. Grantees can either perform research or teach English in a particular country. The Grant covers travel, housing and food, and generally includes a living stipend. The purpose of Fulbright is to establish positive connections between different countries by sending people from the United States abroad and bringing people from different countries to the US. I decided that I wanted to apply for an ETA in South Korea because the country and people sound fascinating, I would be placed in a home stay where I would actually live with a Korean family, I would get to teach elementary children, and Korea has a relatively vibrant Christian community.

Back to the present.

Before scanning the first paragraph of the letter, I slightly collapsed onto a stone bench in front of the caf and slowly inhaled. For the past couple of weeks I would get nervous just opening my email because of the possibility of there being news regarding the Fulbright. The decision was life-changing.

"Dear Miss Baker:

On Behalf of the William Fulbright Foreign Scholarship Board, I am pleased to congratulate you on your selection for a Fulbright award to Korea..."

I got the scholarship!!!

Elevated pulse, rapid breathing, flushed complexion, quivering fingers, wide eyes. I was incredibly excited and realized that I had to share the news with someone. I called family and friends and through the course of twenty-four hours, went through an emotional roller coaster.

I am going to Korea!
I am going to be away from my family for a year.
I get to learn Korean!
I have so much I have to do before I go.
I get to experience this new culture!
I won't see my friends for a while.
Am I really going? [pause to re-read letter] Wow, this is actually happening.

Details from Korea came in the mail the next day. I will be leaving 2 July 2010 and will begin with a six week language intensive training and the end of which I will be placed in a particular school. The scholarship will last twelve and a half months, with the possibility of extending it. I am nervous, but can't wait to get started.

This is the next step. I do not know all of God's plan for me, but I felt Him guiding me in this direction. I took a risk, applied, and am now going to Korea. Thanks to all who have been a part of this process and have prayed for me. I definitely will still need to lean on that encouragement and support.

missing oxford

I catch my self.
Counting the hours from here to there.
Imagining what they are doing.
How their morning is progressing while I can't seem to fall asleep.
Wondering what is being served for supper in hall while I am only slowly sipping my first cup of coffee.
Slightly obsessively checking my weather widget that is still set to Oxford.

I didn't think it would be this hard. I was only there a couple of months. Shouldn't the feeling that I am missing out be fading by now? Perhaps this is the penalty for giving an experience my entirety. From the touchdown of the plane in Heathrow I soaked in the new accents and peculiar vocabulary. Each new discovery brought a greater connection to the land of Great Britain.

And then there was Oxford itself.

The cloudy, misty sky. The time-marinated buildings. The eternal contemplative walking. Every moment, each adventure, the culture sinking deeper into me. Permeating my skin and diffusing into my blood. The clock. The time of academia. The time of Oxford. Advancing rapidly yet nearly halting. The land in which I was living had different rules, not simply a different time zone. Getting groceries could take two hours. Getting to class, forty minutes. Always Getting somewhere, but with the Getting a crucial component of the process. Walking the uneven cobblestones surrounded by voices, but alone with my thoughts. Everything analyzed. Everything processed. The whole experience paused and examined. Yet when the clock revives, it has to redeem the time lost. The minute hand sweeps while in the library. I am trying desperately to get the essay researched and written and read out and defended and a new topic researched. Thirteen essay crises in eight breathless weeks.

But it is the people that drives the shaft deep. I knew I was leaving from the beginning. I knew I would be three thousand miles away. Each morning meant one less day to spend time with these individuals. I chose to make the friendships, though. The right choice. Laughing, gaming, praying, singing, crying, dining, flying through the precious hours I had. The time pressure forced the relationships to a greater depth while I pondered the likelihood my heart could survive the separation. There was a transition from my being immersed in England to Oxford being burrowed onto my bones, melding with my very marrow.

The goodbyes came and went. The clothes were stuffed into a suitcase, the souvenirs carefully stored. The bus was boarded and the plane took off, leaving the Atlantic between me and a new home.

Two months later I still feel the pull. The yearning for teatime and pub food and slightly damp libraries. For the flower stand on Queen, Mick's on Botley, Ben's Cookies in the Covered Market, the Rose on High Street, and the Alternative Tuck Shop on Holywell. For an evening with the best of companions and the back-of-the-mind thoughts that these memories will take precedence in future reflections.

Is this ache worth the experience, the investment? Absolutely. Undeniably. Untradeably. It changed who I am and altered who I will become. It gave me the confidence to step into the unknown, even if the butterflies are causing a tornado in my stomach. It taught me how to meet new people and put aside the fear of rejection for the hope of a new relationship.

I may never master the perfect accent, but I will always be part British and fully an Oxfordian.