Milwaukee's Best

for the past few days, I have been enraptured with writing in my new, moleskin journal. That is right, you know, the famous notebook used by such great minds as Van Gogh, Picasso and some other famous people. Thus, I have been basking in the joys of touching pen to paper. When I write in my journal, I am free to express all of my thoughts without the fear of another man, person, beast or thing, reading it. However, I must admit, I get very lazy about 30 minutes into the writing explosion; my script turns to scribbling and incoherent loops and lines. For future study, I am convinced that I should stick to typing, because at least I can read what I am attempting to convey. Yet, when writing with my hands, I can sense my life, the day and even thoughts slow down to a perceptible level of reflection. Often times while typing, I feel as if I am a robot: hitting keys, flailing fingers and rarely taking the time to ponder while the metronome-like clicking of the keys pulsates in my ears.

But for you dear reader, I will type.

Today, I was invited to give my presentation, on American Racism, to the local high school in Policka. Upon walking into the room, I was shocked at the size of the audience: 90-100 people. I thought that I would be prepared. I had spoken before and the presentation wasn't very difficult to remember; however, when I stepped in front of the podium, I was nervous. I tried to rely on some of my wit and a little sarcasm to get the students loose, but it was lost on them. When speaking to a group of foreign students, there is a tangible feeling of misunderstanding. I mean, they know what I am going to speak about, the teachers went over the vocab with them, but it can hardly make for the feeling, the connection that is lost between and audience when you speak differing languages. My biggest worry was not whether they would understand me, but it was whether they could connect to the topic, to the pictures and to my own emotion.

The presentation lasted an hour, and aside from my struggles to relate to the audience, I felt that I did a decent job of presenting the information in clear ways. I hope that the students left the auditorium with thoughts in their mind. I didn't really have answers, all I wanted to do was to challenge their way of thinking about the idea of race and racism. How is race defined? What is racism? What is prejudice? Are Czech people racist? What is a racist, anyways? These are the questions I challenged the students with. Whether they understood is nothing I could control. My only hope, is that they would go home and engage in a little self-reflection.

Many of the students were shy to ask questions: I had left about 30 minutes at the end of the presentation for questions, but I only received 4. This was quite disappointing, as I hoped to spur at least SOME thought. Many of the teachers loved the presentation and told me that they do believe that the students will ask questions in class; they were just too shy to ask them in front of such a large group. I took this as encouragement and hoped it was true.

Upon leaving the room I was greeted by two of my friends, Jitulka and Petra. They both were waiting for me to leave; their faces conveyed deep thought and questioning. They shot off one quick question. And in that moment, I realized that maybe the students were thinking.

I don't know what I want to write, so I am leaving for now. Just thought you would be curious about the latest happening from the heart of Europe!