2005 Convocation Student Address
Given on September 18, 2005

By Connor Hines '06

I have spent my past summers as a camp counselor at country clubs and sleep away camps, but this summer I thought it was about time that try something new and different, something I never saw myself doing. An opportunity came to me in one particular school meeting, when we were offered the chance to spend four weeks in Peru, volunteering in an orphanage and experiencing the culture. I figured I could only benefit from working in South America, improving my Spanish, working with children in a third world country, and getting a taste of Peruvian life.

On that first Monday morning in Peru, my host family drove me to the local market where my bus would depart from to take me to the Hogar, the name of the orphanage. Now the busses in Peru are very different from those in our country. For instance, comfort and safety don't really matter, at all. The bus driver's main objective is not that you arrive to your destination with ease, but that he fit more people on the bus than humanly possible. So on my first of many rides, I had a toothless 200 pound Peruvian grandmother sit on my lap which to me was a little too close for comfort. As my new girlfriend and I, traveled down the unpaved roads of the Peruvian terrain, I witnessed a sight that I will never forget. What I saw on my first bus ride, was miles and miles of poverty. Shack after shack, lonely infants crawling the streets in tears, families huddled together, selling their hand crafted products, in hope of making just enough money to put food on the table for that day. When I finally reached my stop at the orphanage, and the plump elderly woman and I sadly went our separate ways, Megan and Ansley lead me to what had been their home for the past two weeks. When I stepped through the gates of the home, and became swarmed by curious children, I felt more lost than I ever have. Behind what seemed to be a forced smiled, laid a homesick person, questioning his decision to do this trip. The surrounding town, if you could even call that, seemed almost like a bubble, isolated from the rest of the world, primitive, consisting of shacks, barred windows, and the distant cry of children. It seemed like every sight I took in from the town, was a potential photograph from national geographic. I have seen these pictures in newspapers, magazines, on the news, but to be inside the photo, well it is an essence, an emotion, that no words could capture. The broken windows, the doors that would not shut properly, the dusk circulating in the air from the orphanage farm, their source for everything and their deflated soccer ball that could keep the boys busy for hours triggered questions in my head. Can I survive for a month in this place, with these conditions, and this location? Did I overestimate my ability to adapt to such a different world?

On my tour of the orphanage, I was escorted around by a 4 ft 3 Peruvian woman named Lochita, but do not underestimate this woman, she rules with an iron fist and she basically owned me. Lochita took me first to the pig pen which smelled terrific by the way. She pointed to this mother pig which was nursing its piglets and asked me something. I could not tell you if you paid me what the hell she was talking about so of course I just replied "si, si claro", which means, yes- yes of course, and she was thrilled with my response. That next morning, Senora Juana, the cook, instantly escorted me back to the pig pen. When we got there, she took out a massive knife and gave it to me. Now, I was a little lost why I needed to hold a large knife with all the little piglets around. Senora Juana than pointed to the mother pig and recognizing that I didn't speak fluent Spanish, she simply said "mata" which of course means kill. And than it dawned on me, that I had happily agreed to slaughter the pigs for each meal. I was at a loss of words. I rapidly explained to Senora Juana that I was still scarred from Bambi's death and was not up for slaughtering the mother pig. Luckily she was able to understand the situation and I was not asked to kill another animal for the rest of my time in Peru. Unfortunately, that experience was one of many in which the language barrier created some misunderstandings.

For instance when I returned to my host family after spending a week in the orphanage, and my very conservative host mother asked me if I needed to shower and I responded the best I could and with confidence in the accuracy of my answer. I was confused why she gave me such an alarming look with my request. I repeated myself with complete seriousness and again, she had nothing to say but held an almost scared expression on her face. It was only when she called for her daughter who spoke both English and Spanish, to clear up this language barrier. As it turns out, I told my host mother, not that I needed to shower, but actually, that I needed her to bathe me. She slapped me, rightfully so, and than we were able to put it behind us.

Settling into my new lifestyle was not an easy thing for me to do. After my first week in the orphanage, I still felt completely out of place and uncomfortable. After savoring every minute of my weekend with my host family, it came time for me to go back to the home on that Monday morning. It took one conversation, with one 7 year old boy, to change my entire outlook on my experience. Carlos was my first friend in the orphanage. He was one of the few children in the home who was without a sibling. No one knows who or where Carlos' father is and his mother is a prostitute who also happened to be completely irresponsible, leaving Carlos alone for days at a time before his grandmother took him to the orphanage. On the last Sunday of every month, the parents of some of the children are allowed to visit and check up. Although many children never see their parents, if they have any, Carlos has yet to receive a visitor. Despite all of these devastating setbacks Carlos has been forced to deal with, I have yet to tell you the best part about this one kid. Carlos at times can be a little bit of a bad ass, but no one has a bigger heart. He carries a contagious happiness and a smile so large and so constant; it seems his eyes are at a permanent squint. Although he may have been simply using me for the constant piggy back rides that I gave him, he was my first friend and taught me a lot more than the proper pronunciations of almost every word in the Spanish language.

It was one particular conversation that Carlos and I had, that would change the way I viewed my trip for the next three weeks. Carlos and I were just hanging out on the swings, and he asked me if I believed in Santa Clause. I replied confidently that of course he existed and that I actually had seen him with my own eyes. His smile briefly faded. I asked him what was bothering him. He told me that he tries his best every year to be good but for some reason, Santa has never come to visit him. After holding a rare frown, he cracked his usual smile, and asked, so is he really as fat as they say he is?

It was after these words that it occurred to me. He wakes up everyday and calls this place his home. He wakes up on our Christmas morning and doesn't know the difference between that day and the next. And I was worried about spending a simple 4 weeks there.

From then on, I had a truly incredible experience, and my four weeks in South America will stay with me always.

But I am not standing up here, before the entire Deerfield Student body, to inform you that I asked my host mother to bathe me. I am not here to tell you to go to Peru or find some 7 year old kid to inspire you. I am standing here, asking you to take a chance. I am asking all of you to step from your comfort zone every once in a while, travel into the unknown, and take that leap of faith.

You do not need to travel to another continent to open yourself up to something new and different; you can do that right here, in our remarkable community. And you do not need to adopt a parentless child to be influenced; everyone in this room can offer us something to learn from. Deerfield is an incredible place, and believe it or not, every single one of you is here for one reason or another. Everyone here has something special that they bring to this Deerfield community, and it is our job as members of that community to find out what that is. We are not all simply here to provide diversity; we are here to embrace it. Alan Cohen once wrote "it takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." We must allow ourselves to sincerely get to know one another, despite our differences, whether it be culture, race, religion or socioeconomic background. Let us not limit ourselves to be open to what we already know, but expand our horizons and learn from each other's differences. One kid from Houston, Texas can be the best of friends with another from the Bronx, New York. One person can find a friend that at first appears to be so different, and in the end, you become more alike than you ever thought possible.

We all live stressful and busy lives at Deerfield. Our work can keep us buried in the library or up so late we have no energy the next day, and sometimes, we become so preoccupied that opportunities simply pass us by. But in truth, there is more to learn from Deerfield than in the classroom or on the field. If we do not allow ourselves to discover each other's gifts and characters, than the education process is incomplete. Part of the education we take from this school comes from what we take from each other. Whether you are the captain of the football team, the star of the play, or the smallest freshmen boy, a simple hello to one person in the mail room can change the way someone feel about this school. It can just start from small talk with the kid that sat behind you in your freshmen biology class that you never really got a chance to know. I think we might be surprised just how much we have in common with those we'd least expect.

If you are as lucky as I was this summer, every one of you will find your Carlos in someone you may never have expected. I leave you all with one last piece of advice, from the words of Henry David Thoreau "Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each."

Thank you Deerfield Community and I wish you all the best in this great year to come.