The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.
-Mahatma Gandhi
I graduated from Indiana University in 2004 with degrees in Political Science and Anthropology, a new boyfriend whom I believed I just might marry someday, and nary a clue as to what I wanted to do with my life. So essentially I was a lot like everyone else.
I guess I had a general sense of wanting to do something creative; maybe work in a museum, maybe not. I liked kids a whole lot, but I’d spent some time student teaching in elementary schools and knew that wasn’t for me. Maybe I’d become a museum educator, but what if I disliked that, too? I couldn’t tell you what I wanted to do with my life, but I’d gotten pretty good at sorting out the things I could never do. Banking. Lawyering. Accounting. No no and no.
I have no recollection of making the decision to join AmeriCorps, but once the idea came I held it tightly. Summoning a fearlessness that wasn’t like me at all, I applied for programs far away from my home – Habitat for Humanity in Colorado, trail-building in Louisiana, and after-school literacy in California. I could visualize myself pounding nails, meeting new friends, and being on my own, really and truly, for the first time in my life. I thought the time away would give me some clarity and point me toward a career doing…something.
I interviewed with all three AmeriCorps programs but ultimately chose one in Santa Rosa, California, where I’d serve as Team Leader for an after-school program, called CalSERVES, in an at-risk school. I didn’t have an apartment or a car, nor did I know anyone. Assured by the team there that it would all work itself out, I said goodbye to my dad, my sister, my boyfriend, and my home, and flew into San Francisco. I’d never been to San Francisco.
I boarded the bus to Santa Rosa and, once there, was picked up by a fellow volunteer. I spent the next three weeks training by day and couch-surfing by night. The worst was when I woke up in the middle of the night one time to find my co-worker’s weird roommate staring at me in the dark. The best was when I got to house-sit for an out-of-town teacher and had the place to myself. I subsisted on hummus and phone calls from friends and family. I was homesick and wondering why I hadn’t just taken a job at the mall until I figured the rest of it out.
Eventually the training ended, I found a place to stay, and I bought a little red Ford Aspire without power steering. I wound up loving my classroom and the students in it. I have amazing memories of playing Paul Simon for the kids while they did art projects, being thanked with hand-picked flowers by the parents of a challenging student, and labeling and creating a database of books in the classroom’s library.
I also participated in five National Days of Service, doing things like cleaning the school’s garden in the rain, picking up trash along a road in town, walking in the Human Race, and pulling out an old fence in a new city park. The work was hard and by the end of the day I was bone-tired, but those memories make me smile.
More than that, I learned to be resourceful and independent. I learned how to connect with people who had little in common with me, and how to work around difficult personalities. I also learned to live on what barely passes as an income. Bars and restaurants and other outings were out of the question, so I made do with nights in playing board games. It was during this time that I learned to cook.
By the time my year in AmeriCorps was over, I’d applied to and earned acceptance into a Museum Studies program in England. I figured that if I could move across the country sight unseen I could move across the pond. I sometimes think that California was a bigger adjustment for this small-town girl than Europe was.
I now hold a position in Development at UCLA, which I love. It’s often struck me that during every interview I’ve ever had I’m asked to talk about something I’m most proud of. Of all the things I’ve done, of all the things I could talk about, I inevitably go back to my time with CalSERVES.
Oh, and I did marry that boy.
by Loni Rocchio, CalSERVES AmeriCorps Alumnus
