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Finding Their Place: Service Inspires a New Chapter

Conversations with students on how Boston College is shaping their future

By Sean Smith | Chronicle Editor

NAME: Christine Glaser
CLASS: 2010
HOMETOWN: Long Island, NY
MAJOR: Communication/International Studies
CHILDHOOD DREAM: Write for National Geographic
FAVORITE FACULTY: David Northrup (History), Paul Christensen (Political Science), Christine Caswell (Communication), Gilda Morelli (Psychology)
NOTABLE ACTIVITIES: Co-founder, BC Dominican Republic Soledad Council; Vice president, Americans for Informed Democracy

Don't most aspiring journalists want to work for, say, The New York Times, or an international news bureau, rather than National Geographic? What's the attraction for you?

My family's always had an interest in international affairs. My grandfather, Edward Glaser, wrote for The New York Times and later became a pilot. He took my Dad around the world as a graduation present. When I was growing up, Dad would tell me stories about his travels.

And when I was a kid, there were copies of National Geographic around the house, and I'd pore through them constantly. Writing for them became a dream of mine; once, I tore off a cover of an issue, wrote 'I'll work here some day' and stuck it up on my door.

So, what with reading all those magazines, and listening to my Dad's stories, you can see how I'd want to write for National Geographic. Not everyone realizes what a high-quality publication it is. Their articles are very well written and put forward a great array of issues, like social justice or environmental concerns.

As I understand it, though, your career plans have changed somewhat since coming to BC.

Writing is still very much in my plans, but I've had some incredible experiences on service trips these past few years. I'd like to incorporate what I've learned from them, and the questions they've raised for me, into what I do.

You've mentioned your service trip to the Dominican Republic during sophomore year as being particularly influential. Tell us about that.

It was probably the most transformative experience I've had. I'd been in service projects before, in high school — food drives, Hurricane Katrina relief — and during my freshman year here I happened to attend an informational session for the Appalachian Volunteers program, in which I wound up participating.

The Appalachian program got me interested in issues of international inequality, and I hadn't ever traveled outside the US before, so when I heard about the service trip to the Dominican Republic I applied. I felt very fortunate to be accepted, because international programs tend to be very competitive.

The program leaders had tried to prepare us for what we would witness, but there's really nothing that can prepare you for the poverty you see. It's not just the homes and neighborhoods, it's the schools — they're crumbling, over-crowded, with little in the way of supplies or resources. No one in our group could imagine how children would be able to get an education and improve their lives.

Part of the service trip involved spending time with kids at an orphanage, and it was just unbelievable. The things they told me about their lives, their hopes for the future, were so poignant, and have stayed with me ever since.

There was one little boy, Jose, eight years old, who became my friend, and we'd talk in a mix of broken English and basic Spanish — he liked to tell knock-knock jokes in Spanish — and do arts and crafts or play soccer. One day he told me that he thought of something that would help me to be happy, so I asked him what it was.

"It's easy," he told me. "You need to find God." And then he gave me a painting of a red heart with the word "Dios" — God — written across the center.

I was amazed. Here I was, an American college student with all kinds of privileges and opportunities, and this little boy without parents, family, money or material possessions — he was telling me to find God to improve my life.

It can't be easy to see and hear all that and not react emotionally.

Well, again, the trip leaders warned us about that. They'd tell us, "Look, you can't think you're going to come in and change everything in just a few days. We have to plant some seeds of hope, do what we can to make them grow, and trust in the next person who comes along to pick up where you left off." And fortunately, by being part of a group you had others to vent your frustration, anger or sadness.

What really got to us, though, was how ineffective the government's response to these problems was, and the evidence of corruption. We were invited to a press conference with the country's secretary of education, in this elegant room inside an equally luxurious building. She talked about all the goals and accomplishments of the programs they were implementing — yet there were kids in schools who didn't even have pencils.

When the opportunity came to ask questions, I tried to be diplomatic, offer compliments about their programs, and then I asked if there had been any difficulties, noting that some of the schools we'd visited were struggling.

She closed right off. She said they were only so many people, highly outnumbered by their population, and without enough funds or space to build schools "like you have in America everywhere." Then she said that we'd been shown a "heavily biased sample" of schools, rather than the model schools where everything worked so well.

And yet in spite of it all you still felt the trip was worthwhile?

I had to say, that episode really had me discouraged. But you would find hope in the most unlikely places. Another friend of mine from the orphanage was a 13-year-old girl, Jacqueline, and we talked about everything. She wanted to hear about my family and life at home, and how our trip was going. Her story was incredible: Her father had abandoned her and her siblings, and Jacqueline had tried to care for her mother, who died as a result of drug addiction.

One day, I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up. She talked about going to university and becoming a child psychologist so she could help the children who were worse off than she was. She wanted to have a big family, but she would adopt all her children because there were already so many who needed love.

And although she said she wanted to travel, see what other parts of the world were like, and talk about her country and its needs, Jacqueline told me that in the end she would want to return to the DR, because "it is only the Dominican people who will be able to bring ourselves out of these troubles."

When you hear something like that, you just can't wallow in gloom. You have to keep doing what you can.

So how have you built on this experience?

I, along with another trip participant, have formed the BC Dominican Republic Soledad Council. The idea is to help maintain some continuity from one year to the next, so that we can deepen the connection between BC and the people of the DR. We also sponsor children in the communities where the trip goes, so they can keep moving forward.

So it sounds like you're not necessarily content to just write about world issues.

I could definitely see working in international relations, or being part of a non-governmental organization. I'm going to study at the University of Cape Town in South Africa this spring, so that will generate some more ideas.

That's why I value my time at BC: I came in wanting to do a certain thing, and then one experience took me to another and then to another, and now there are so many possibilities. Jesuit education is supposed to be all about having a passion for learning, and I think that's been true for me here.

Sean Smith can be reached at sean.smith.1@bc.edu

FINDING THEIR PLACE is a new feature that speaks to students about how Boston College is shaping their future.