DukeEngage | Duke Center for Civic Engagement

Duke student Shelley Lanpher focused on a project that aimed to improve kids' appreciation of fitness.  Below is her article that appeared in the Durham Herald Sun:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shelley Lanpher: Early fitness education has far-reaching benefits

Guest columnist : Aug 10, 2008

The Duke Engage program initiated and funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation has given the opportunity to students like myself to tackle real-life problems.

One of the major concerns of our society is the increased prevalence of childhood obesity. There is a heightened understanding that physical activity and proper nutrition are key elements in maintaining a healthy lifestyle.

Despite this awareness, budget and time constraints have resulted in school systems without adequate physical education and children with less-than-ideal eating habits. Meals are often either rushed or eaten in front of the television, snacks tend to be carb-heavy and lacking in nutritional value, and portion sizes are growing. Further, physical activity appears to be rapidly declining or at least not counter-balancing modern eating habits.

As a lifelong athlete -- a swimmer and ice hockey, baseball, basketball and soccer player -- I have experienced the rewards of fitness and the need for proper nutrition. When I learned that several elementary schools in my hometown no longer offered physical education, I knew at once the focus of my Duke Engage proposal. Like the rest of America, my hometown of York, Pa., has experienced an increase in both childhood and adult obesity. Last December I started tailoring my project around this critical health issue. I was fortunate enough to be awarded one of these grants.

My Duke Engage project was conducted this summer at the Crispus Attucks Community Center, a nationally recognized education and resource center in York. I taught two classes, first- through third-grade and fourth- and fifth-grade, with 12 students in each. Interested in hearing first-hand about their fitness habits, I learned that the amount of time they spend active each day is, on average, far lower than government minimum guidelines, let alone what I remember from my own childhood.

The staff at the center is concerned with improving the health of the children and ensuring that their summer programs are educational and fun. They accepted my project proposal with enormous interest.

During the daily sessions, topics of nutrition, emotions and wellness were discussed. I followed a program titled "Just for Kids!" and each morning the class read a motivational story from their workbooks, filled out activity sheets, and engaged in role-playing skits. Topics included: distinguishing between foods with high and low sugar; managing difficult feelings; liking your body; eating styles; becoming active; and eating on special occasions.

As a group exercise, the kids made healthy snacks and fruit kebabs, designed food pyramids for their classrooms and discussed healthy eating. In the afternoon, I provided a physical fitness component which was held in the gymnasium. We started off with group "warm-ups" -- leg and arm stretches, jumping jacks and two laps around the gym. Typically the kids then separated into three stations, varying from jump rope competitions and simple basketball drills to push-ups and sit-ups, to hula hoops and ball tosses. Through my grant, I was able to supply soccer goals and balls, exercise mats, weights and basketballs. Each child was provided with a water bottle, jump rope and food journal.

One of the best components of the project was the non-stop enthusiasm the kids displayed; hands were constantly waving to volunteer for the next reading lesson, all were eager to assist me, ready to do more exercises, and sad when I had to leave for the day.

At the graduation for my project, the children handed me thank-you notes with drawings of their favorite activities, smiley faces and many "we will miss you Miss Shelley" inscriptions.

My main objective was to see progress in the students' awareness of healthy eating and increased activity. Like most journeys, there were struggles and limitations along the way. However, I felt my program was a critical starting point for the kids to make real changes in their lives. Many learned about unfamiliar topics -- the divisions of the food pyramid, the meaning of cravings and cues, the correct way to stretch and do a sit-up, and how to record meals and snacks.

I have come to realize that sports can really be a uniting factor. The loner, the show-off, and the restless child all lose their limitations as soon as they step out on the court/field and form teams or work in pairs.

The result was that the new kid, for the first time, left the sideline and joined the others, and the "know-it-all" lent a helping hand. Underscored by the benefits of confidence-building and the opportunity to learn about perseverance and motivation, fitness is an often irreplaceable component in combating childhood obesity.

I was able to teach the kids about the consequences of over-eating and under-exercising at an age where they were open to learning. I wanted them to have the basic building blocks for a healthy lifestyle that I had when I was their age, so that they could be active participants in achieving this goal.

The writer is a Duke student, class of 2010.

 

# 4 – Please Don’t Use the N-word

 

 

My host brother Amir, Erin and I were watching TV on a weekend afternoon. It was quite disorienting how many American films, TV shows and music videos we could find on Jordanian TV. Funnily enough, although most swearwords and nude scenes were heavily—and somewhat inaptly—censored out, some very suggestive music videos with profane lyrics still made it onto the screen. The lyrics were probably okay, since people often didn’t completely understand them; I often failed to understand rap lyrics, to be honest.

 

When a black rapper appeared on the TV screen, Amir nonchalantly commented, “hey, he’s a n---“

Erin and I gasped at each other and then screamed out for at least 5 seconds. Amir could speak a bit of conversational English but his vocabulary was still very limited. How the heck did he learn the word without learning the fact that he shouldn’t use it?

 

“What’s wrong?”, he looked positively confused.

Erin took a breath and did the explanation. She was very careful to avoid actually pronouncing the word out loud, and Amir thought that was really funny. It took an effort, explaining how it was widely used for a while in a horrible context, and why people were now beginning to see it should not be used. Amir nodded like a good student, but soon his mouth broke into a mischievous grin.

 

“n----! N----!”

We literally had to beat him up to stop it. After another long, serious lecture from me, he promised not to use the word again, well, not in front of us because we would be very offended.

 

“Ok, ok. I won’t do it again. But they always use it on TV,” he added later.

Now Erin and I didn’t have a good refuting argument. We attempted to say it was ok to use it only if you were black and amongst your friends, but we all knew how many songs and films were actually choking with that word.

 

Besides, I already had to face so many offensive racist comments living in this country that I did not flinch anymore when I heard them.

“All those Palestinians are untrustworthy backstabbers.”

“Those Jews are the reasons for all the enormity in the world now.”

Of course, there were many more Jordanians who never hated a whole group of people like that. But some people thought these statements sounded true enough to their ears, and never bothered to hide it.

 

Was I supposed to pretend to be ‘the enlightened one from abroad’ and preach to all of them? Probably not. Was I to simply ignore these hateful comments and not respond? I wasn’t so sure. The only thing my selfish mind could manage to register at these moments was perhaps feeling relieved that no Jordanians were seriously against Koreans, Canadians or Americans.

 

So I was still welcome.

What a pitiful relief. 

I’m home.

There is no need to be surprised by what’s on tonight’s dinner table. I comfortably walk down the streets without feeling people’s burning glares on my face. I even manage to faintly smile at strangers who happen to meet my eyes, and feel relieved to find their brighter smiles reassuring, not judgmental. My eyes relax at the sight of bright greens everywhere, the soft patches of grass under my feet and whistling leaves over my head. I no longer shudder in icy cold showers nor sleep on rock-hard pillows, crouched like a shrimp in a tiny bed.

So why, surrounded by these little blissful beauties of my home life, do I long to return to the foreign land where I barely belong?

I certainly do not miss sitting through those incomprehensible conversations, trying my best to keep up a smile only to appear polite. I find pleasure neither in pretending to be religious nor in showing off my engagement ring from my non-existent fiancée. I get flustered when people arrive 45 minutes after the arranged time, and am easily appalled by people’s casual racist, sexist and anti-Semitic comments. I fail miserably at pronouncing Arabic words and feel overly terrified in bad drivers’ cars. I do not enjoy seeing yellow everywhere: yellow building walls, yellow roads, yellow foods, yellow hills, yellow yel…

Then why?

Perhaps it is the gratuitously hospitable culture there: the mountainous stacks of khobis bread, the endless servings of tea and Turkish coffee, the easily given and gratefully refused invitations, and the affectionate series of hugs and kisses, all happily and freely offered to this strange-looking foreign girl. Or maybe it is the songs and dances there, the unfamiliar and yet exciting beats, the seductive moves of women that can easily melt anyone’s heart and thus forbidden from a man’s sight, their excited chants and loud claps pulsing through their entire houses, and those high giggles that are still ringing in my ears.

But in the end, it must be the people.

My friends and neighbors there, who lived with their mothers next door and brothers downstairs. All of them were too quick to give away and too willing to care for everyone. Some of the ladies had horrible husbands, while a few others no longer had one. Under their pretty head covers, all the ladies kept their sad stories, mischievous jokes, and unreserved laughter that brightened my summer.

And my students, their eager and curious eyes, and the way they talked to me in sweet, broken English. Some of them were sorry to miss my class because of their own weddings, their mothers’ deaths and their new jobs. They unabashedly and self-righteously cheated on quizzes, only to avoid seeing me disappointed. A few of them spoke not a word of English and yet came to class everyday, just to smile and nod approvingly at my clumsy lectures.

And I have to, absolutely must return to my family there again: my mother, who loved me, touched my heart and left it still aching; my little sister and brother, who happily entertained me with pillow fights and gladly shared their snacks; and my 18-year-old brother, the magnitude of whose impact on my life that I am only beginning to comprehend.

All of these people had seen more hardships than I had, yet were more loving than I was. To these people, my mind keeps rushing back, while I sit comfortably in my own house at the end of this memorable summer.

So now I’m home,
and I miss Jordan.

p.s. I have never written a blog entry before—though I wrote a notebook full of journals in Jordan--, and I don’t feel quite comfortable with posting my thoughts online. But I’d like to do my best to share bits and pieces of what I’ve seen, heard and felt over this summer, because they have been very important to me. I hope you will enjoy watching me try and struggle. :)

Melinda

Melinda arrives at the airport. She is tired from the 12-hour-long flight but feels relieved that she has made it safely. She easily gets an entrance visa and quickly heads over to the baggage pick-up lane. The unfriendly looking machine pukes out passengers’ suitcases one by one, taking its time. Melinda waits, waits, and waits…? Now all the suitcases have come out and been claimed, but Melinda’s are still nowhere to be seen. A man standing on the other side of the lane suddenly cries out “No, not again!”.

Melinda stands aghast; everything essential to her life in this foreign country has been in her suitcases: her clothes, bathroom products, tour guides, emergency food items, and simply, everything else. When she finally meets the in-country coordinator waiting outside, she’s doing her best not to break into sobs. During the ride to her house, the coordinator comforts her, “No worry, no worry, Miranda. They might find your bags later,” and the two of them head over to a local store to buy some underwear.

Kay 

Kay’s flight has been a pleasant one. She likes the pretty atmosphere of the Dubai airport where she connects her flight, and finds the flight service quite excellent. Although she often feels paralyzed with nervousness for the two months ahead, her excited anticipation overcomes it. As she waits in a line at customs and immigration, a man in a uniform approaches her and asks for her visa. She has attained it prior to her departure, so she shows it to him. However, the man claims she must have a stamp to enter the country. What? She has never heard that she needs a stamp. The man explains she needs to pay 30 JD dollars, which is like an entrance fee to Jordan, and then she can get the stamp.

Aah, a relieved look of understanding spreads across Kay’s face. She follows the man, and he helps her get the stamp and even find her luggage. She begins to suspect that he will ask for a tip, but he merely escorts her to the gate and disappears with a friendly smile. What an excellent airport service, she thinks. Outside the gate, she sees welcoming faces and is overcome with various emotions for a while. Then, of course, she finds out that she has been brutally ripped off by a private airport service company. There is no such entrance fee charged to a person with a visa. Kay stands feeling deceived and foolish, and soon the words of comfort arrive, “but Dear, you at least found your luggage.”

Suanna

Suanna arrives at the airport and it’s already past midnight. She has had horrible leg cramps during her flight and is exhausted from the lack of sleep. She hands over her passport to the examiner at customs and immigration, and he checks her visa. Then, he asks her where she plans to stay.

“At a hotel?”
“No… with a family in Jordan.”
“Do you know them?”
“Um…no…not yet.” A bad answer, she thinks.
“Do you have their address?”
“Um…no…” Worse, she sighs. “but they are waiting for me outside the gate,” she quickly adds, and the examiner gives her a dirty look. It’s almost true, so she manages to look composed and harmless. Thankfully, he lets her pass.

 

As she walks out of the gate, struggling to push the gigantic suitcases in front of her, she searches for a sign that has her name printed. There is only a small crowd at the gate, so she looks over here, there, and then here again…? No one seems to be waiting for her, and she has circled around the crowd three times already. Now the crowd is thinning out and people are beginning to stare at her. Soon she’s left at the empty gate alone. Pretending to be still composed, she approaches a shop owner and asks for a public phone. He tells her she has to buy a phone card to use the phone. Well…then where is the phone? He points out a phone booth standing afar, which is clearly all locked up.

She heads over to the information desk, and the man there barely understands her English. All he tells her is that the phone booth is closed. Now she’s not so composed anymore. A passerby stops and asks her what’s wrong. He is kind enough to let her use his cell phone. Feeling very grateful, she calls up her coordinator.

“Hi, Salma? This is Suanna. Um…I’m outside the gate at the airport and don’t see you. Where are you?”
“Suanna? Hi! How are you? I’m home, of course! It’s very late here in Jordan. Are you at the airport in Canada?”, the coordinator sounds sleepy but still chuckles cordially. But wait a minute, she’s still home…HOME??? The word smacks Suanna’s head twice, very hard.
“No, I’m in Jordan, Salma. I’m at the Amman airport.”
There is strange silence.
“…no, Suanna, not in Amman. Are you sure, Suanna?”
“Yes, I’m very sure.”

Now the coordinator panics, but Suanna is saved. She sits at a deserted café, waiting for the coordinator, contemplating whether this is an ill omen for her time in Jordan. But the coordinator seems pretty nice, despite her late appearance, and she doesn’t forget to encourage Suanna, “but dear, I’m so glad you have your suitcases.”

Erin
 

Erin arrives at the airport, completely oblivious to the misfortunes that befell other volunteers upon their arrivals. But no worries, she is soon to experience all herself.

First, her suitcases never arrive.

Then, She walks out the gate and no one is waiting for her. Actually, no one is supposed to, because she planned to travel for a few days on her own, before starting to work as a volunteer. Although she did not plan to do it without her suitcases…

So she takes a taxi to a crappy inn, and yes, the driver rips her off.

Having checked in, she now realizes that she left her cell phone inside the taxi. Now it’s her turn to meet the coordinator…somehow.

p.s. Kay, Melinda and Erin are university students, who volunteered in Jordan with me this summer. Although our arrivals were somewhat rough, all the suitcases safely arrived a few days later, saving us a lot of trouble. So all’s well that ends well…right?

Mistranslation gets frustrating; miscommunication could be dangerous; misunderstanding might be fatal; but Google Translate? definitely suicidal.

I noticed that Salma, my in-country coordinator, often used Google Translate to decipher the emails from United Planet. Her English was not near fluency, but she was certainly able to read and understand straightforward written messages. So besides all the convenience issue, why was Google Translate so very necessary?

Well, I am probably the queen of convoluted run-on sentences—a title that I’m not very proud of—, but I know well enough not to write them in an email to a foreigner who doesn’t speak fluent English. So United Planet should have know better and not given Salma a sentence like “so, it does seem that it is not necessary for you to show up at the airport at the time that was specified in the previous email.”

Now, this is what Google Translate told Salma.
حتى انه يبدو انه ليس من الضروري لك ان تظهر في المطار في الوقت المحدد وهذا هو البريد الالكتروني في السابق.

Let’s see what this is again in English by Google Translate.
He even seems that it is not necessary for you to show at the airport on time and this is the e-mail in the past.

Thus it was always a little extra complicated for United Planet and Salma to work together. After my arrival, I found out that my work placement, which had already been confirmed by United Planet several times, was in fact not available at all. It was pretty nerve-wracking. All my job expectations, which I did my best to keep at a minimum, were instantly shattered, and I was suddenly not sure what I would be doing for the next two months. Other workplaces were available, but the kind of jobs offered there were really not of my interest. I tried working at one of those places for two disastrous days; then, tossing aside my initial determination to be an easygoing volunteer, I turned into a demanding foreigner and started aggressively looking for new jobs.

One of the new options was working with Save the Children. Salma was not a big fan of this idea due to the complicated start-up process. United Planet and Save the Children had to sign some agreement forms, and the workplace was too far for Salma to provide transportation. On the other hand, people from Save the Children were quite enthusiastic about the prospect of having foreign volunteers. So after going through two interviews, I was overjoyed to hear that Save the Children agreed to provide my transportation and confirmed my placement.

I immensely loved my new job. In many ways, it was even better than my initial job that turned out to be not available. I didn’t get in touch with United Planet office much after that; I was very shaken from the shock of being unemployed for a few days and United Planet clearly had a very vague idea of what was going on in Jordan. Moreover, they were not very skilled with handling problems that newly arise in other countries. When another volunteer sent a direct complaint to United Planet, they ended up simply forwarding the message to Salma, for whom the complaint was not even meant. (and of course, Salma had to use Google Translate again.)

Miscommunication was always a natural and understandable part of my life in Jordan. But personally, misunderstanding without language barriers seems more unsettling; to my relief, that did not occur very often after this rough beginning.