Group Endeavours in Service Learning: Expanding Your Horizons

It's finally over.

I say that not with relief, regret or resolution, but rather in thankful matter-of-fact way that something that occupied and dominated my thoughts so selfishly has been lifted off my shoulders. Pardon the faulty analogy.

We will be formally reflecting on our project as part of our project assessment, but here's mine in an honest repartee, bound not by political correctness nor diplomatic non-commitalisms. I doubt there's such a word.

First, the hunky-dory stuff.

This project was a labour of love in many ways. Pragmatically, it was so because I poured in so much of myself into this despite that GESL is a pass/fail module i.e. everyone gets the same grade. Whether you're the idealistic group leader musting gut to get everyone to adhere to deadlines or a baritone slacker hanging on to coattails, if your project's a success, you pass, period.

Meaning to say, if I as group leader had put in minimal effort in conceptualising a project that required minimal effort and expenditure but yet carried it out to completion, we'd still get the pass.

But that was never enough for me. I punished myself by expecting a lot from my team members and I. For example, we picked a really difficult charitable organisation to begin with. While other groups picked children's homes or orphanages with children, we really went for the cream of the crop.

We engaged a home that took in teenage girls of every possible social malaise you could think of. Drug abuse, stealing, teenage pregnancies, gangs, beyond parental control: you name it, they had it. Looking back, I can't believe we did not realise what we were getting ourselves into. Being the wide-eyed idealistic lot of student teachers that we were, we believed we could touch lives the way MOE recruitment posters said we could. These were 11 to 16-year-olds that had been hurt in ways we could never imagine, much less empathise with. Surely they can't be that bad, we reasoned. They're girls after all. Boys are the problem cases. They'll respond to us, we said, because we have the right intentions. We were in for a wake-up call.

I would like to mention at this point that we spent the better part of four months framing and putting the project together from scratch, with little experience in organising events on this big a scale. Moreover, we were a group of nineteen diverse strangers; the only thing we had in common was that we were teachers-to-be.

And so as team leader I stumbled upon another fact of life: there's one in every herd. Having more or less been volunteered to be communications representative and then team leader, I struggled with the mantle of responsibility that had been thrust upon me. I faced subordinates older and wiser than I, but yet looked to me for direction. I had a female colleague old enough to be my mother! And here I was, fresh from NS and the leader of this motley crew.

Initially the momentum just wasn't there. Meetings were painfully drawn out and the lack of chemistry and consensus was evident. It was right there that I became acutely aware that we weren't all the same. More than a handful of our group were not prepared to put in their fair share. Their actions or lack of them lent weight to my argument as the project ramped up to D-day. A lack of initiative, responsibility, common sense were some of the milder complaints. Looking back, I would've put this people in less important areas of responsibility or done without them altogether. The frustrating thing for those of us committed and 'sold' on the project was the presence of these makeweights and the knowledge that we would all get the same grade in the end.

As deadlines grew nearer and horizons became shorter, it became incresingly essential for people to keep their end of the bargain in their areas of responsibility. But they seemed to thrive on been harried and hurried into doing things. It took a heartfelt and desperate communique from me to stir them into a semblance of activity.

That said, there were some invaluable members of the community that were integral to the success of the project. Without these people, we'd have been dead and buried. They helped identify my blind spots, stepped in the gap voluntarily and uncomplainingly, and fulfilled their duties on time and on target. These are the people, I told myself, that I'm doing this for. Not the girls, not the grade, not myself, but for my comrades who were equally sold on this project and would give their all for it even if they got nothing in return. I salute them, and it is a source of pride to me that I'll be serving alongside these people in civil service. I'd bite your hand off if you gave me the opportunity to serve with them all over again.

To put it simply, they made my job easier. Sure it was still difficult, but these guys oiled the gears. I thank God for His wisdom in telling me to put these people in the key positions of finance, administration and liaison heads. I shudder to think what would have transpired if the laissez-faire had been in their place.

It became clear to me that the teething problems we had at the beginning were essential in ensuring that our project was got on track as soon as possible, instead of later when the inertia would be difficult to counter. Sure we got off to a slow start, but we made up ground towards the end.

The mark of good planning is that when the leader is not around, the programme still runs like clockwork.

On the actual days of the event, my contribution was minimal. But I'd like to think that it was because my planning and instructions were so robust and comprehensive that I was not actually needed on the day! It was also down to the competency and enthusiasm of the activity planners and facilitators.

Shame on those hangers-on. A little anecdote: at one of the adventure centre's general stations, one group had just succeeded in achieving their target. They were encouraged by an observer to lower their target even further. Sure they were tentative, so they looked around them for encouragement. Instead they were faced with the demoralising sight of their facilitator and station master staring disinterestedly and listlessly at them. So they decided to give up.

This sickens and disgusts me. How can we claim to be teachers if our excuse for not motivating and stretching the girls are "they don't want to", "they'll be too tired" and "it's too difficult". Sure we aren't paid much, but any simpleton can then step in our shoes and give the same excuses. Another example: The girls were to collect recyclable materials from around the Home to dress up a mascot. I realised one group hadn't moved. I asked the facilitator why they had not. She replied that her group did not want to. I replied that the onus was on her to lead her group to do so. She replied that I did not understand her group and that if they did not want to go, then she would not force them.

I have never heard of such balderdash. I'd like to see her teaching in her school where her principal asks her why her students have not been handing in homework and she replies that they did not want to and she would not force them. How can you claim to be a teacher and have this sickening, malingerent attitude of tidak-apa-ness? If this is the sort of teacher teaching my future children, I'm afraid I can't really look forward to my retirement. If the teacher won't take the trouble to teach my children, why would my children take the trouble to take care of me?

I find such attitudes and behaviour abhorrent and thoroughly disturbing. I really hope these people just quit, break their bond, and find a job where they wreck just their future and not my children's.

And just to rub it all in, because of my efforts, they're getting the same grade I do.

Scum of the earth aside, the girls of the Home were a totally different kettle of fish.

Mind you, some of these girls had stinking attitudes too. They yawned audibly when things moved slowly, had tardy time-keeping habits, cursed freely and creatively, whined and complained non-stop, refused to clean up, listened to music when we were talking, etc. Wait a minute, you must be thinking. You mnust be even more pissed at their atitude then! The truth is, I'm not.

My disappointment with my non-contributing colleagues far outweighs any resentment I have of the girls anti-social behaviour. The reason is simple: these girls have been through so much more than I could ever imagine. If they emerge from those experiences bitter, disengaged, disinterested, untrusting, angry juvenile delinquents, I don't blame them.

The youngest, an eleven-year-old, was just two when she was abandoned by her single mother. She has never known her mother nor father. How is she to trust you or reciprocate when you show her care and concern? Some of these girls have been hurt by someone they trust, like a parent or boyfriend. How can they learn to trust and love again? We shake our heads and their youthful folly, their numerous piercings and lesbian tendencies. But look at their lot in life. How can we begin to even compare our lives? To claim we understand? To say we love them no matter what they've done?

My experience with them showed me this: their hearts are truer then ours. They have been hurt so badly that all you see now is a protective and hostile facade they have put up to prevent their vulnerable heart from being pierced again. Occasionally they let you in. You see it in their smiles, their laughter, their puerile posturing, and you think, I WAS ONCE LIKE THAT. These girls were never given the opportunity to experience the parent's love that I did, nor the protective environment that comes with it. They were instead thrown naked on a cold, hard stage of society's judgment, the unrelenting spotlight exposing their sins and weaknesses for all to see.

I realised some of these girls were once like my sister, or cousin or niece. What happened? What have we done?

Could the apathy we showed them, even if only fleetingly, caused them to give up on society the way society gave up on them? I hate the feeling that our project, borne of good intention, could have driven these girls even further away with our thoughtless and selfish actions.

My heart bleeds when I say this, but I really wish I could put myself in their shoes, and convince them to keep on fighting and get their life back on track. And yet I see colleagues' attitudes undermining and derailing the very objectives we had set out to achieve in the first place. It still sickens me.

Only Someone can truly help these girls where Man has hurt them. I thank God they're at least they're in a Christian home. Through the servants' hearts and agape love shown, I hope they too can experience God's love.

To borrow a line from Jack Black in the School of Rock, I know I've touched them, and they have definitely touched me.

Note: Touched (adj.) - Emotionally affected; moved.