Although I met wonderful people and saw incredible things, studying abroad wasn't always pretty, and I want to honor the difficult times I had in France by not romanticizing my experience. Much of what I gained from my time abroad I have discovered in retrospect, learning about various things I would have done differently. But the fact remains that what I have studied in my life-history, literature, psychology, law and feminist theory-came alive in Europe in a way that it never had in my academic life before.
By immersing myself in another culture, stereotypes and propaganda slowly faded, and I began to understand the complex details of the world. Concepts that took on a flat, academic feel when I read about them in The New York Times became tangible realities, challenging me to reconsider dearly-held beliefs and to formulate new opinions.
For example, race relations between North African Arab immigrants and white, nationalistic citizens are tense and complicated in France and I had done some reading on it before I arrived. But I didn't realize how deep-rooted these conflicts were until I had a conversation with Lucien, the Orthodox Jewish father in my initial host family. Lucien tried to convince me that Jean-Marie LePen-the anti-Semitic, racist, xenophobic leader of the National Front party-was a good leader for whom he would gladly vote. Le Pen has called the Holocaust a detail of World War II, but Lucien was willing to forego this offense because of Le Pen's hard-line stance on Arabs.
Where was this hatred of the other coming from in Lucien? What are the ramifications of such opinions for the rest of the country, and the world? And how did this situation mirror similar circumstances in the United States? At times like that, I became acutely aware of the nuances of the debate and realized that the intense attitudes people had would have been completely lost on me had I just watched a related story on the news here in the U.S.
Of course, even as I talked to people and watched friends and strangers, I was always an outsider. I was absolutely aware of this, and the moment I opened my mouth to speak, my acquaintances were, too. But living on the fringe offered me a fascinating means through which to view human interactions and relationships and to attempt to tease out the differences between universal human experience and the diverse experiences of people living around the world. Studying and living abroad gave me this opportunity.
Before living in Europe, I don't think I truly understood the effect that our country has on others. Nor was I aware of the tension of people's feelings about the U.S. At University, in stores, and even on the bus, I received daily exclamations of extreme envy when people learned where I was from one moment and was lectured on the state of our political affairs and actions the next. The schoolchildren to whom I taught English twice a week knew more about the election process than did a majority of my high school class. The significance of this is that the world has its eye on America, and, whether we like it or not, our behavior has wide implications. As a citizen, I must recognize this responsibility. Going abroad helps students understand their place in the world in ways that simple study in America cannot.
And of course: Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Being away for a semester crystallized the things that I so cherish about Amherst. I had always been very appreciative of our high level of intellectual discourse, the opportunity for relationships with professors and the incredible resources that this school has to offer. But leaving for a semester made me poignantly aware of how much I will miss it when I must leave, for good.
I refuse to argue that studying abroad is a necessary component of one's college experience, nor will I assert that it is right for everyone. I will say, though, that to truly immerse oneself in a new and foreign place, and to be committed to processing all that occurs there, is a valuable experience, one that should be seen as augmenting an Amherst education, not injuring it. I now have a new lens through which to see the world.
Sieck can be reached at bcsieck@amherst.edu