There was a point in my life when I wanted to become an astronaut. I was pretty young, probably kindergarten or first grade; it was that time where everyone wanted to be a fireman, an astronaut or a princess when they grew up.
My desire to become one of those people who sets foot on the moon, however, quickly ended after I did some research about the position. I read a couple of those children’s books about space flight and discovered that every so often, spaceships blow up. Needless to say, I was heart-broken. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t want to be a flaming heap of blown-up person. That would be gross. I was bummed for a few days, but I did learn a pretty valuable lesson about the importance of research.
I wanted to yell this little lesson at a mom who talked to me on the way over to East last week. As I sat down at the back of the bus, all of a sudden a mom plopped down next to me and smiled. Her kid, who looked exceedingly bored, had taken a seat near the front.
As soon as the bus left West, the mom turned to me and asked me where I was from. I told her California. She seemed a little bit disappointed and told me that California was “an interesting place.” I hesitantly agreed and asked her about her origins. “Born, raised and still livin’ in Alabama,” she replied with a type of pride only true Dixie-lovers have. Oh man, I thought. It’s going to be one of those conversations.
After asking me a plethora of questions about Duke, the social life, East Campus, the academics and what not, she stopped talking. I took a breath, thinking we were done.
But then she turned to me. “So, uh, are there a lot of, you know, foreigners here?” I don’t know what stopped me from falling out of my seat laughing, but I think it was partially the guy who was sitting in front of me who was eating something that looked like anchovy salad.
Because I did not break down, I was forced to answer her. “Um, yes. It’s a diverse school.” Again, she looked disappointed. “And… are there a lot of foreign teachers?” she asked, exposing the last glimpse of hope she had for the school. “Yes,” I responded.
I didn’t really know what to do, but the one thing I was sure about was that she wasn’t kidding. She looked back at me, and then at the front of the bus. “You know, I’m not sure what I think about that.” And that was the end of the conversation.
In retrospect, I wanted to just tell her to do a little bit of research about the school before she took her kid here. Was it really that difficult to believe that Duke, although it may be in the South, actually houses people from different countries?
Originally, her comments really bugged me, but then I came to realize that there are actually people like that in this country. They’re the people who are all about Dixie rising again, the ones who are stuck in the time of the Civil War. The fact of the matter is that it’s been more than 100 years since the Civil War. It’s over. Also, the South is never going to rise again. If you disagree with me, you need to get a life.
The people who have incredible pride for where they’re from and only hang out with people from those places, be it the South, California or a different country, really need to challenge themselves a bit. We did come to Duke to be challenged, right? And I wasn’t lying when I told the mom that Duke is a diverse place, full of interesting people with interesting lives.
The reality of the situation is that if we don’t challenge ourselves, we’ll all grow up ignorant people and grow old ignorant people. We’ll move back to wherever we’re from, knowing nothing about other people with differing experiences. Think about it for a second: it’s really a sad way to live. However, if you really want to live that life, you might as well step on a spaceship.
Matt Dearborn is a Trinity sophomore. His column appears every other Tuesday.
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