Reading Africa and the World

I recently heard this TED Talk and was thoroughly inspired by this woman's story of reading a book from every country in one year.



After hearing the TED Talk, I looked up her blog because I wanted to learn more. For example, how did she read that many books in one year? And how did she choose just one book from an entire country? And, of course I wanted to know: What books did she read from East Africa? I was totally inspired and fascinated by this project. (I just checked out her book to learn more!)

As I was poking around her blog, I found a post that mentioned an Africa Reading Challenge. Basically, a challenge to read 5 books from Africa in one year. Again, I was fascinated.

Most of the people who read this blog know that I am not much of a reader. I read only a handful of books a year, if I'm honest. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, considering that I am a librarian. I say only half-jokingly that I have a minor panic attack when a student comes up to me and asks: "Do you know a good book I could read?"

But, anyway...

When I do read, I am most often drawn to books about Africa or other parts of the world, which is probably why I've found both of these challenges so fascinating. Obviously from the title of my blog, I believe that stories are important. More than that, I believe that by learning the stories of people who are different from us, we will gain perspective and grow in understanding of the people around us. If we are willing to listen to others' stories, we learn from them and their experiences. I often say that if I don't immediately click with someone or if someone drives me crazy, I probably need to learn his or her story so I can be more gracious towards them.

I recently finished reading The Queen of Katwe, which was such a fun book for me to read since it's about a girl in Uganda. I currently have Congo: the Epic History of a People checked out from the library. But these different challenges have also reminded me the importance of reading about things and places I know nothing (or little) about. Reading about Uganda is fun because it's home to me in a lot of ways. But if I really want to grow in my understanding of the world, I need to look beyond what is comfortable and be willing to listen to the world.

Things They Don't Teach You in Library School, Part 2

I wrote my original post on things they don't teach you in library school several years ago, when I was living in Uganda. It's one of my most popular posts and I still think all those things are true. However, in the years since I wrote that list, I've learned a lot more about being a librarian. The fact is, one grad school just can't teach you everything you need to know about being a professional librarian. You will learn a lot but there's plenty more to learn on the job. [Isn't that the case with any job, though?]

So, here are more things they don't teach you in library school...in a US, reference librarian context:

• Some days, you will spend much of your time helping patrons with things like: email, printing, wifi, etc. It might feel a bit 'beneath' you, especially if you have a long to-do list of lesson planning, meetings, etc. Think of those questions as outreach...if you're friendly and approachable while you help a patron print, hopefully they will come back when they have a research question.
• And, speaking of that to-do list. You will have one. A long one, no doubt.
• And on that list will be meetings. Lots of meetings. 
• Some patrons will not understand what you do. At all. They will ask you: to watch their stuff, proofread a paper, help them with their homework, etc. Just smile. And remind them what you can do for them: send them to the tutoring center, show them a book that answers their question, use a locker on campus, etc. Librarians connect people to information, even if it's not 'traditional' research information.
• Sometimes patrons just need encouragement or a listening ear. I can't tell you how many students ask for help finding articles or books and end up asking some variation: this is a good topic...right? Which I interpret as: Can I really do this big, scary assignment?
• There will be some questions that will cause you to have a moment of inner panic. [You want to find what?!] Take a deep breath. You'll be fine. And that will likely be the most interesting question you will answer all week.
• The best reference interactions end with: Thank you! This is exactly what I need! And you will feel like you just changed that patron's world.

Again, this is a very reference librarian focused list. But, hey, it's all true, right? :) Librarians do a lot of things besides shushing and reading...most of which you discover along the way.

Learning Life Lessons From Giving 'Free' Time

The past few months I've been volunteering twice a week at a local non-profit that helps African refugees and immigrants get settled here in the US. I love it! I am surrounded by people from Africa and I have the opportunity to hear such interesting stories. I feel strongly about being a part of improving communities and in the US I believe that means being a part of welcoming newcomers to the community. I love being a part of helping these people get a bit more settled to life in America. I'm so thankful for my Ugandan friends who helped me find my way, that I believe this is one way to pass on my appreciation and to stay connected to the lessons I learned about living as a minority.

Anyway, most days I go into the office and assist clients that are currently looking for jobs. I teach them computer skills and how to fill out online job applications. I explain the general job search process and help them get started. Sometimes I help them with other computer-related questions, such as email. I ask them about where they're from and about their families...I listen to their stories. I celebrate with them when they get a job. Sometimes I research open jobs in the area. Other times I chat with the staff about African issues or my experience in Uganda. It's been a great way to maintain my teaching skills, stay connected in a small way to Africa, and to give some structure to my week.

One day last week when I arrived there weren't any clients to help so the staff asked me to file paperwork. They showed me the files, explained the system, and for three hours I filed. I punched holes in papers, pulled folders, and filed the papers. Not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. And at one point it occurred to me that I could be annoyed by what I was doing. I could wonder why I gave my time [freely!] to simply file papers. I could feel frustrated that I'm still looking for a job and am spending my time doing this instead.

But I wasn't annoyed. I didn't mind at all, actually. Because one thing I am learning is that volunteering with such a great organization and wonderful people helps give a bit more purpose and perspective to my life right now. And, although I'm giving some of my time away for 'free', I'm learning a lot. I am learning about Minnesota and all the crazy paperwork newcomers to America have to fill out. I am learning to ask good questions and to listen to the immigrants' and refugees' stories. I'm surrounding myself with people who are positive about finding jobs in this economy.

But the most humbling thing I am learning is to let go of my pride at wanting the 'perfect' librarian job. So many of the clients I work with are happy to look for [and get] entry-level, $9/hr, factory jobs. It's made me think a bit more about about my job search. Since moving to Minnesota, I keep saying I just want a job, I just want something to do. But am I really looking for any job or for my 'perfect' job? I realized I was saying I just wanted a job but when it came down to it I didn't want any job, I wanted a librarian job. Which is fine, but I realized I needed to call my job search what it is: a search for a librarian position. The process of helping other people look for jobs is a good reminder that there ARE jobs out there. And that no job is necessarily better than another. Part of living here means paying rent, heat, electricity, etc. and there are times that any job that can pay the bills is good enough. So often I wrap my life purpose into to my job and this experience has reminded me that maybe, just maybe, my purpose is not what I do.

I recently read this article about volunteering and this one. They were encouraging articles reminding me about all the great things about volunteering. And while volunteering may not always be glamorous and it may not open any doors professionally, it is a good opportunity to put some purpose back into my life. It has helped me keep up some of my skills. And most importantly it is an opportunity to remind myself that the world is bigger than me and that in some small way I can stay connected and listen to the stories of African people.

On Being a Librarian Without a Job

*Please excuse my complete lack of posts for the past two-three months. My excuses are: 1. I'm still trying to figure out what my library story looks like now that I'm back in the US and 2. (more excitingly) I got married less than three weeks ago and promptly moved across the country...sometimes life just takes over. :) But I do hope to start writing again as I explore a new library story in Minnesota.

I've decided that being a librarian is one of the best jobs in the world. Sorry to all you teachers, doctors, lawyers, nurses, whatevers out there. Being a librarian is great. We get the privilege of helping people find information...ultimately inspiring them. Just watch this TED Talk to see someone who changed his life because of information he found in a library.

Anyway, I knew how great libraries and librarians were when I was in Uganda. I loved my work. [I miss it!] And I wouldn't have become a librarian in the first place if I didn't see it as The Best Job in the World.

But I've been struck again but how great a job it is now that I don't have one.

Part of what I love about being a librarian is the purpose I feel when I'm at work. I honestly feel like I get to be a part of changing communities and lives by helping connect people to information. It's pretty exciting...knowing that you could be a part of a bigger story. Now that I am on the job market, I sometimes find myself wondering what my purpose is. And I'm trying to define the purpose of my life in new ways.

My days are full with other things right now [job searching one of them] but I've definitely felt the lack of purpose. I miss the satisfaction of finding a patron the perfect book or watching the light bulb go on when they learn something new on the computer. Because, let's face it, unpacking suitcases and finding the nearest supermarket just doesn't have the same purpose.

And I've discovered again how much the American culture places an emphasis on what we do. One of the first questions people ask when you meet them is: What do you do? [And when you're to a new place, you get this question a lot!] This can be an incredibly depressing question if what you do is job search...you look for what you are going to do in the future. It can make the future feel more important than the now. Which is exactly the type of mentality I learned to NOT live by in Uganda...where the focus is more on now and not later. Talk about culture shock!

So, I'm trying to find new ways to define the purpose of my life. And not simply focus on my job. I'm learning to take joy in finding information for those around me and for myself. If being a librarian involves connecting people to information, I'm trying to find satisfaction in doing that every day, whether it's looking for a job, finding our next apartment, or looking up local things to do. I'm exploring ways to get involved in the community while I look for a job. Most importantly, I'm trying to give myself permission to simply BE.

I'm learning again that a good story is not with out it's ups and downs, transitions, and a whole lot of unknown. I've started a new chapter and have no idea where it's going...and isn't that what makes a good story? 

And I refuse to define my story--tell my story--based solely on what I do...but also on who I am.

Hi, How Can I Help You?

In the US, when you walk in a library, store, or other establishment often [not always] the first words you'll hear are, 'How can I help you?' or 'Can I help you?' Or some other variation. As a librarian, I'm no exception when it comes to providing service. In the US, the customer is 'always right' and we often drop what we're doing to help the patron/customer/etc. Again, not always, but that's the general rule of thumb of what we've come to expect, I think.

But I've learned that views on customer service are actually a bit cultural. Customer service in Uganda doesn't necessarily look the same as in the US. I discovered this by accident, although in retrospect it makes perfect sense.

My last few weeks in Uganda were full of daily reminders that my time was coming to a close. Almost every day someone would ask me how many days I had left or when I was going. Often students would come to thank me again for helping them over the past year and that they would miss me. To be honest, I hated the countdown and I often tried to play down their kind words, reminding them that I was leaving another librarian to help them.

But their response surprised me: But you always stop what you're doing to help me.

And suddenly I started thinking about customer service in Uganda. And generally [not always] customer service happens the same way as most things: on African time. Things simply happen when they happen. Walking into a store does not necessarily mean someone will greet you or help you immediately. I can remember countless times standing at the meat counter in the supermarket trying to get someone's attention. Or waiting at a shop while the the attendant finished his/her conversation with a friend. And I learned to love this type of time...there's something freeing about just letting things happen in their own time.

And I realized that I had introduced my students to a very Western style of customer service. When someone walked in the door [which was right by my desk] I almost always greeted them and asked if/how I could help them. If they wanted a book, I stopped what I was doing to help them find it. If they needed computer help, I got up to teach them.

And these are not bad things. But I can't help but wonder if I did them a bit of a disservice. Letting them get used to a style of customer service they may or may not experience again. I always wanted to be so careful about introducing the students to new things...not wanting to change their culture, per se, but simply try to make a library as culturally appropriate as possible. And I was so focused on computer skills and organizing books that I didn't think about customer service.

I don't have any answers. And I'm not going to beat myself up about it. But it does have me thinking. I always want to make sure I'm building and growing libraries that are appropriate for their cultures and communities...how does this relate to customer service? Is the 'Western' style of customer service always the best? What actually defines customer 'service'?

Learning to Let Go

As I've prepared to leave Uganda, I've spent a lot of time reflecting on the past year and half. My reflections range from personal to specific memories to work to my neighborhood. A lot has happened during this time in Uganda...in my heart (more on that later) and also in my library. It has me thinking about all the things that have been accomplished:

• Installed computers
• Cataloged books
• Shifted books
• Taught classes
• Conducted orientations

And the list could go on. And I'm proud of all the work that's been done.

But I can't help but wonder what will happen as I leave.

Don't get me wrong, the librarian we hired is more than capable. But I'm learning that the process of letting go is hard. Letting go of a major project you began (but didn't finish) is extremely difficult. It makes you wrestle with all kinds of things as you let go of control. I was asked to come and computerize the library and it's hard not to wonder if I should have or could have done things differently to have actually finished the process. There are a lot of questions I keep asking myself:

• Have I put enough processes in place that things won't fall apart when I leave?
• Have I trained the new librarian well enough?
• Have I documented everything?
• Have I done everything I was capable?
• Am I finishing well?

But the community developer in me knows that leaving is a good thing. It gives someone else a job and lets others have ownership of the library. I know that I have built relationships with people, which is more important than any number of books cataloged. I know I need to trust that things will continue whether or not I am there...to not believe that I am so important that work can't continue without me.

And as I leave, I am choosing to focus on the positive. To focus on what was accomplished. And on all the beautiful people I had the privilege to get to know. They are what made my time wonderful. They are the reason that leaving is so difficult.

A House of Books

One of the most common descriptions I've heard of a "library" this past year is that it is a "house of books". This description never ceases to annoy me. It's like when people say that because I'm a librarian I must love to read...stereotypes drive me crazy! Although, I have learned to be a lot more patient with people's assumptions and simply explain my version of librarianship. Because, to me, a library is about so much more than books. It's about information and community and connections and teaching and research and learning. Not just books.

But, of course, there is a physical space associated with libraries, most of the time. And when I was in graduate school, I took a class entitled 'Library Buildings'. It was a great class offered by a professor who has spent years as a library building consultant on library construction projects. It was fascinating to learn about things like: the best places to put computers, lights, books, etc. I mean, who knew, it can actually make a difference where you put books and tables?

I've discovered that it does, indeed, make a difference. Here are a few examples I've (re)discovered since moving to Uganda...some we talked about in class and some we did not:

• Building a library next to a dirt road is not a good idea. Unless you want to spend time every day clearing fine, red dust from all the books and tables.
• Concrete floors might not be the best for sound reduction but they sure are easy to clean.
• Inverters are a good option for when the power goes out at night. If you can afford one.
• If your desk is in public space it will be exactly that: public. (We talked about this in class...Fred Schlipf was so right! My circ/ref/cataloging/everything desk is incredibly public...no private space here!)
• Lighting really does make a difference. For example, make sure your lights are actually above the tables where people work. Otherwise you get weird shadows.
• Keep public computers within sight. Otherwise you never know what kinds of things people are getting into. Or downloading.
• Having small rooms for group work (with glass doors!) is definitely ideal. Because having a one room library creates tension between the group-studiers and the silent-studiers. You can't win.
• Outlets should not be place directly beneath windows that are often left wide open.

At any rate, these physical considerations are important (and sometimes humorous) and a library may be a house of books. But more importantly, I believe a library is a center for learning. And hopefully a place to build community. So, I suppose a library is a little bit of both...the physical space, i.e. the house of books, but also the community and learning that take place within the house. And I'm still learning how to bring them both together.

Things They Don't Teach You In Library School

I've worked in libraries for about 14 years. I have had the opportunity to work in a number of different capacities from work study student in college to paraprofessional...and I was always well aware that I wasn't actually a librarian until I got my master's degree. But I always felt that all those experiences pre-grad school prepared me well for being a librarian. I can honestly say I had worked in almost every area of a library. After grad school I figured that those extra studies, combined with all my experience, meant I knew a lot.

And I do know a lot. And those other positions did prepare me well to be a successful librarian. But those experiences weren't the end all and be all of what I could learn. [Sorry, fellow grad-school classmates if I was a bit cocky about all that previous experience...confidence is one thing, pride is another.] And this year has taught me a lot about more about how to be a successful librarian than anything else. You know, now that I'm an actual librarian. :) And many of these things are things we never talked about in grad school and I never learned as a paraprofessional. I guess there's obviously something to be said for hands-on learning! :)

So, in no particular order...

Things They Don't Teach You in Library School [But Are Helpful to Know]:

• If your library is built next to a dirt road, your books, tables, chairs, computers, everything will get very, very, very dusty. In these cases, toilet paper works well for dusting.
• Cataloging a library's entire collection of books takes a lot of patience and logistical planning.
• You need to be extra creative if your library doesn't have a budget.
• Making your acquisitions selections from piles of donated books is a lot different, harder, and takes more creativity than pouring over best-seller lists, catalogs, online bookstores, lists of recommendations, etc.
• Learn to pay attention to your collection. Know what you have and where it belongs. Take mental notes of popular texts. If the power goes out and/or your collection isn't cataloged you can still answer reference questions if you know your collection. [Ok, this is obviously geared toward small collections and the power issue isn't a big one in the US but still...know what you have. It will make you a better librarian when you can quickly point to what a patron needs.]
• Taking a mid-morning break to have tea is a lovely way to break up the work you're doing in the morning.
• Be prepared for anything. Even chickens, bats, and snakes. You just never know.
• Deciding between Dewey and LOC really is a big decision.
• Have firm boundaries for any kids that come into the library. Let them have fun but don't let them take over in shared space. [Ok, you Children's Librarians might know this one but I learned this one on the job for sure!]
• Learn as much as you can about technology. Yes, libraries are still a place for books but obviously the world is changing. And you seriously never know what kind of questions someone might ask about their laptop, the internet, email, or other technology. They might even ask you to: install antivirus, take their Facebook profile picture, or type their papers.
• In moments of frustration just try to remember the goal of what you're doing: connecting people to information to build community.

Bye, Muzungu!

I think one of the biggest and most ongoing adjustments to living in Africa is the fact that I stand out. A lot. As in, it's very hard [read: impossible] to be anonymous when you live in Uganda as a white person. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's just a fact of life. And it can take many, many forms.

Sometimes it's a creepy man that tries to grab you as you get off a taxi. Sometimes it's a boda driver charging extra because he thinks since you are white, you have extra money. Sometimes it's hearing people laugh as you pass them, which is my personal least favorite. Sometimes it's just people watching as you walk by. Sometimes it's a grown man passing you on the street, saying "How are you?" in a falsetto voice.

But the most common form of the lack of anonymity is children singing out "Bye, muzungu!!" as you walk by.

[Note: muzungu is a Swahili word used around East Africa that basically means white person, European, wanderer, or traveller.]

To be honest, I still haven't decided how I feel about this greeting. Some days, it's cute. I smile and wave and greet them. Some days, though, I want to walk home in peace. Without people calling out to me. I know the kids aren't being rude [most of the time] but sometimes it gets tiring and I don't know how to respond. I know that for many of them they're simply excited to actually see a muzungu up close.

And I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About what it means to be 'different'. And how we respond to people who are different than us.

Or more specifically, how do I respond to people who are different than me?

I like to think that I am a pretty open minded person. A big advocate of saying that people are simply people. We're not that different...we live, laugh, love, etc. But I sometimes wonder if my response is because I've spent the majority of my life as part of a majority population. Yes, people are people but how do I really respond to people who are different than me?

Living as a minority is a huge eye-opener. I hope this doesn't make me come across as being prejudiced before I came here. I don't think I was. But let's face it, I wasn't really any kind of minority or living in a particularly diverse place in the US.

But living as an obvious minority, only understanding some of the language, and being called out to regularly because of my skin color is completely life-changing and humbling in ways that are hard to explain. It can be uncomfortable and lonely. Awkward. It has made me incredibly thankful for people who look past my skin color, accept me as me, and treat me as a person, not a curiousity.

This experience has also opened my eyes to a world that I knew existed in the US [and, yes, even argued against] but that I didn't necessarily understand. I hope that my experience here will change the way I interact with people when I return to the US. I hope it makes me more welcoming to people who are 'different' than me. It's too easy to pull away, to separate ourselves from people who are different than us. It's more comfortable to be with people who are 'like' us. But that doesn't build community. Building community is about getting outside our comfort zones, loving others, and building relationships. Alike or not.

So, I still don't know how to respond to a child calling 'Bye, muzungu!' but I do know that I want to be a welcoming and loving person, accepting people for who they are. I want to build relationships and be like my Ugandan friends who take the time to get to know ME and don't make assumptions about who I am based on the color of my skin or my nationality.

May I strive to be like them.

Lessons Learned While Working Solo

This past year and especially the past two months(ish) since Joshua left, have taught me a lot about being a Solo Librarian. Yep, that's a term. It is what it sounds like: I am the only librarian at my library. It's been an interesting ride, for sure...I've learned a lot about myself and a lot about being a librarian. It's a stretching experience in a lot of ways to work solo. Stretching in the ways that make you grow and learn and trust yourself.

As a Solo Librarian, there are no other professional librarians with whom I can discuss issues or changes at my library [at least for now...this will be changing very soon! :)]. So any changes become a bit scary, which is what I mean by learning to trust yourself. Yes, there are librarian friends in the US and here and, yes, there are listservs, all of which help. But when you have no other librarians to bounce ideas off of on a daily basis, you have to trust your own education and experience. This has been a good experience for me. I have plenty of library experience...13 years of it. But too often my insecurities get the best of me and I think: I'm not smart enough to do this. Or, who am I to decide this? But when you're The One to Make All [or most] Decisions, you have to get over those thoughts pretty quickly. Granted, for me, this is an almost daily process but still. I'm learning to trust myself a lot more. And that's a good thing. It makes me a more confident librarian [but hopefully not in the prideful way].

I've mentioned this before but being a Solo Librarian has taught me a lot about humility. When there's little help, you have to do whatever needs to be done. Again, it's often a daily battle [read: whining] in my head: "I don't want to shelve that mountain of books. But there's no one else to do it. Maybe I'll wait tomorrow. No, I should shelve at least 10 today. Well, tomorrow I'll shelve 20. If I had help I wouldn't have to do all this work while trying to get things cataloged. Ok, fine, I'll do 10 today." Yeah, growing in humility can be a bit painful. [And maybe childish.]

I guess growing in humility is also teaching me about time management and discipline. Learning to do things that need to be done, when they need to be done. It is admittedly overwhelming....in the 'I have no idea where to start' kind of way. But also in the 'Wow, look what's been accomplished this past year' kind of way. So if I am willing to just do the tasks, 'beneath' me or not, I also learn to manage my time better and get to see the results of doing those things. Which is pretty exciting.

Being a Solo Librarian also teaches you a LOT about being a librarian. I mean is there really a choice when you do most everything? I have learned so much! I now have experience writing policies, managing a computer network, implementing said policies, organizing a major project, picking an ILS, running a library on a daily basis, etc. Admittedly, I've made mistakes along the way, but it is through those mistakes I continue to learn how to be a better librarian.

I suppose right now part of the challenge comes from battling the 'I'm only here for a few more months so I better get a lot of things done' mentality. Knowing that there are only a few months left makes the pressure more intense. I want to know I worked hard and finished all the cataloging, taught all the computer skills necessary for the students to know, invested in their lives, created policies to move the library forward, etc. But the reality is, to do everything I would love to do, I need to stay another 5 years. The other reality is, I'm only here until mid-June.

So, I guess as a Solo Librarian I'm learning that I can't do it all. [Who can?] But I can do my best. And keep trusting, growing, and learning.

Cultural Differences...and How We're Really All the Same

Last week we had a Spiritual Conference at RTC. I wasn't able to attend every session but the ones I did were great. There is something so powerful to me every time I got to Chapel at RTC. Something amazing about being in a room surrounded by men and women from all over Africa. I can't describe it exactly. It's powerful to me knowing that despite all our different backgrounds we all ended up at the same place: at RTC at the same time. And maybe there's something about knowing that despite the fact that we come from all over the world, we are united by our common faith. I have so much to learn from them. We took communion on Friday and having the opportunity to experience communion with people from around the world was so special. [Actually it was more than special, I'm just having trouble putting it into words.]

Anyway, we also had a cultural afternoon on Wednesday as part of the week. It was full of skits, songs, dances, and a lot of laughter. It made my day. And my week. It was so fun to see the students sharing bits of themselves, their countries, their cultures. There were traditional songs, marriage ceremonies, and dances. Plus skits reflecting things they've learned this semester. I think the best part was sitting there, often not understanding the words/language, and yet still being able to enjoy everything with those around me. Laughter and humor are contagious. I decided that there's something joyful and almost spiritual about sitting in a room of people and laughing together. It breaks down language barriers and cuts through divisions. I think laughter [at least genuine laughter, not the laughing at others kind of laugher] bonds people in a powerful way. When we learn to laugh with people who are different than us, we share something with them.

I was struck [again] by how thankful I am to be here, in Uganda, and at RTC. I love these people so much! And consistently humbled that I have the opportunity to know them and learn from them.

And I also realized [or re-realized] that deep down we're all the same. The marriage ceremonies might be different but the premise is the same: two people joining their lives together. The languages might be different but the songs are still about trusting God. Our cultures are different, but I am constantly reminded that people are people. I wrote about this last month...how pain is pain, joy is joy. And this week I discovered that laughter is laughter. Shared experiences, especially ones that create strong emotion [sadness, laughter, etc.] bond people in mysterious ways. And for that, I am grateful for this week. For a chance to enjoy time with my African brothers and sisters. A chance to learn with them and about them. A chance to hear them worship and a chance to watch them laugh.

South Sudanese students sharing songs
about God in Juba Arabic

Traditional Masaai song

Congolese marriage song/dance

Watching

I love RTC students!

RTC School of Music...amazing to hear them sing!

Side note: Several students asked me why I didn't share anything about American culture. 'American culture' is a funny thing and hard to explain. We don't have songs to sing when people get engaged or cows that are given. We don't have the same emphasis on 'traditional songs'. I was glad I wasn't asked to share anything because I have no idea what I would have shared!