The World Comes to WWC

by Gary Tetz

 

International students prove it’s a very small world after all

 

For many American students, going to college means just a few forms to fill out, a check from dad and a sporty car packed to the roof with trendy college gear. It’s a forgone conclusion for most. Even a lark for some. But certainly not the daunting series of hurdles or the seemingly unreachable pipe dream higher education remains for young people in many countries.

Elira Gjata is one of those people. She’s someone who exudes gratitude for the opportunity she’s received at Walla Walla College. Someone who thanks God and some generous donors for making it all possible. Someone who misses her family back in turmoil-plagued Albania, and longs to return home to make things better someday.

As a young girl, Elira saw the fall of communism, the violence in the streets, the gunshots. “Crazy stuff,” she calls it. She was 17 when her mother told her about the sponsors who were willing to foot the bill and asked if she wanted to go to school in the United States. “I said ‘sure.’ It was an adventure. I didn’t know what to expect,” she says. “It was very hard for Mom and Dad, but I think all parents in Albania want that for their kids, because the situation over there is so bad.”

Elira will graduate from WWC this spring with a social work degree, and she is looking eagerly to the future. “I pray and say, ‘God, where do you want me next? Please show me.’” She left Albania barely more than a child but feels like she’s lived a lifetime since then. “The trouble and history of my country has shaped me,” she says. She knows a lot of her American friends grew up with virtually everything, and she hopes her story has helped them understand how much hardship there is in the world. “I think my life experiences will help me as a social worker,” she says, finding the silver lining. “I’ll be so much more open-minded.”

Open Arms
Walla Walla College welcomes international students like Elira as most colleges do—with open arms and for important reasons. First and most obvious, economics—it helps pay the bills. But equally important is a more intangible benefit. In exchange for offering life-altering possibilities and dream fulfillment for many worthy young people around the globe, institutions like WWC are able to expose oftentimes sheltered American students to new horizons and cultures, better preparing them to succeed in a complex and shrinking world.

Here and on campuses across the country, international students maintain a significant presence. In 1998-99, almost 500,000 were attending U.S. colleges and universities, the Princeton Review reports, making up 3.6 percent of the total enrollment. Though tightened immigration rules, economic pressures, and global competition have caused the numbers to decline over the past couple decades, it remains an area of primary focus in American higher education. The most popular fields of study among international students are business and engineering, fitting nicely into two of WWC’s largest and strongest programs.

Currently, 69 international students call WWC home, an increase over last year, and the list of home countries reads like the index in your coffee table atlas. Beyond the usual large contingent from Canada (see sidebar), the world is represented by more than a dozen countries, including Ghana, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, Australia, Zambia, Brazil, Ukraine, Venezuela, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, South Africa, China, Yugoslavia and, of course, Elira’s Albania.

For WWC faculty, teaching international students makes the educational experience better for everyone. “It brings to the classroom a perspective and flavor that is eye-opening to those domestic students who have not had the opportunity to travel abroad,” says Marlene Baerg, director of engineering recruitment and an assistant professor in the department. Lynn Boyd, associate professor of marketing agrees. “I really appreciate international students in my classes. They add important perspective to almost every issue.”

Attracting and supporting a diverse student body supports the larger mission of the college: to prepare students for success in a rapidly changing world. “We want to embrace diversity in its fullest sense, not just in ethnicity and color, but also in terms of thinking,” says Beverly Roper-Archer, director of the Office of Diversity Services. She credits WWC for recruiting internationally, creating a living laboratory for American students to learn how to live and work effectively with people of all backgrounds and cultures. “International students bring flavor, color, and different ways of doing things,” she says. “It helps American young people prepare for a global society, because it’s changing out there.”

Easing the Transition
Getting from their homes in remote parts of that global society into a classroom at WWC is a miracle for many international students, and difficult for all. As director of admissions and the international student advisor, Dallas Weis is the first point of contact for international students, guiding them through a maze of immigration requirements that have tightened significantly. “9/11 has changed us,” says Weis. “The government now requires a more accurate picture of who is in the country.” Besides the stacks of paperwork, students must also have a $4,000 deposit and have documentable bank proof that funds exist for one year of tuition. It isn’t easy.

But the process is just the start of the challenge. Many of WWC’s international students grew up in large cities in distant countries, have never been away from home, then suddenly find themselves alone in a small southeastern Washington town surrounded by wheat and onions. “When I landed at the airport, I thought I was at the wrong place,” recalls Lindon NgOnga, a senior math major from a Zambian city of 1.5 million people. “It was like a farm environment.”

Helping ease the transition is where Weis and a dedicated team of student staff step in. “We meet their planes, load up their stuff, get them to the dorms and help them get moved in,” he says. “They don’t know where anything is, so we make sure they’re comfortable.” Like Lindon, some of the incoming students arriving from tropical climes are woefully unprepared for cold Northwest temperatures, so are shepherded to Wal-Mart for blankets and warm clothes. “I never thought I would survive the winter,” Lindon says. “Now I know what they are.”

An even more difficult challenge than the distance and weather is the initial feeling of loneliness, of being a stranger far from friends and family. There were moments when Eduardo Grassioto, a business major from Brazil, wasn’t sure he could take it. “There were days I would cry and call my parents and say, ‘I don’t know if I want to stay,’” he recalls. “But I just told myself that I had started something and needed to finish it. And after a couple of years, this place just grows on you.” Advances in communications technology, particularly the Internet, have also helped ease the loneliness for many. Yumiko Numata of Yokohama, Japan, communicates with friends and family by e-mail. “It makes it less lonely,” she says.One Campus,

One Family
For most international students, the shock of separation from home and family slowly dissipates, and they settle into the campus routine.

It helps that WWC students are notoriously friendly, a fact Eduardo confirms. “People have been very nice to me. I’ve made friends I’ll never forget,” he says. “Students don’t really consider you as international,” reports Yumiko. “You’re just included in the campus as family.” Coming from a culture that’s more reserved, she’s still adapting to being greeted while grocery shopping or walking on the street, and that friendliness has created its own problem for her. “When I go home to Japan and attempt to do the same thing, people think I’m really weird,” she says.

Lindon singles out the warmth of WWC faculty for special praise. “They’ve been so kind and gracious,” he says, though that openness was one of the most difficult things for fellow Zambian native Richman Siansimbi, an engineering student, to get used to. “In my country, it’s a culture of respect. You don’t even call a person by his first name. But here you can ask questions and interact with the professors.” Lindon has had the same challenge adapting. “Where I come from there is no connection between the student and teacher, so it’s not easy to confront or ask questions,” he explains. “Sometimes I forget that this is a different environment and I still have that fear of approaching the teacher. But I’m changing slowly.”

As international students feel almost immediately accepted into the WWC family, they equally quickly gain a spot in the hearts of WWC faculty and staff, who become part of their stories and take a very personal interest in their lives. That’s especially true for Weis, who gains an intimate knowledge of their personal struggles. “I’m always on pins and needles,” he admits, citing the tsunami in Indonesia as a special concern. “Two of our students are Indonesian and I haven’t heard what happened with their families.” With friends all over the world, Weis’ role is personally gratifying, but emotionally draining. “I live in fear this time of year, but so far God has richly blessed us,” he says.

Culture Shock
Despite WWC’s energetic attempts to accommodate tastes and provide as homelike an environment as possible, there are some things international students never seem to quite get used to. The cafeteria cuisine, for instance. Yumiko loves sushi, and Elira grew up eating meat. She finds the rice is different and even the bread tastes strange. “They keep it in the fridge, so it’s not the right consistency,” she explains. “I don’t like the vegetarian food,” Indonesian mechanical engineering student Jonathan Gunawan says bluntly, a perspective that’s echoed by Richman. “The food,” he says thoughtfully. “Yeah. They could work on that,” which proves that college students’ well-documented diSDAin for cafeteria food transcends geographic boundaries.

International students also report that an even greater surprise than the weather and the food is WWC’s rather isolated environment and small-town feel. Coming from São Paulo, a Brazilian city of 12 million people, was a big shock for Eduardo, but he’s used to it now. Jonathan found it “rather strange,” and describes a leisurely day in Walla Walla. “My friend and I get in a car and drive around town, or we walk here and there. I think that’s about it,” he says.

Richman looks on the bright side, viewing WWC’s relative isolation as a benefit. “It’s not a big city, so the temptation to do other things is reduced.” Yumiko laughingly agrees. “There is nothing to do, so there’s nothing to disturb me.” Perhaps Lindon puts it best of all. “There’s not much to do, but there is church, there are friends, and there is school,” he says. “That’s good enough for me.”Worth It All

For all the miles from home, hardships of the process, the pain of separation from family and the stresses of adapting to a new culture, international students find a haven at WWC, and WWC is similarly blessed by their presence. It’s a mutually beneficial transaction, one that brings together people and cultures to create a truly special Christian academic family. “We are a global Seventh-day Adventist church, made up of all kinds of backgrounds,” says Roper-Archer. “Through the lives of our international students, this college will continue to reflect that.”

For Eduardo, every sacrifice to get here was worth the cost, and WWC will always occupy a permanent place in his memory. “I have this college written in my heart,” he says fondly. “It’s a place I will never forget for the rest of my life.” W

 

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Gary Tetz, a 1984 communications graduate, lives in College Place and is a former editor of Westwind.

 

Welcome to the U.S., Eh As a timid and wide-eyed Canadian student in the very early 80s, feature writer Gary Tetz thinks he can relate to the international student experience. The decision to attend an American college was not one I made lightly. We Canadians are a proud people, after all, wary of foreign influences and the erosion of our unique and frozen culture. So when the recruiter asked, “Would you like to attend Walla Walla College,” I pondered for what seemed like a tortured eternity before responding, “Will it be warmer?” When he answered affirmatively, I ran to pack my things. I knew the United States existed, of course. After all, we didn’t win World War II all on our own, and several U.S. cities boasted professional hockey teams comprised entirely of Canadians. But I had little intimate knowledge, beyond what I picked up while huddled in our family igloo in front of a primitive ice-fueled television watching “Charlie’s Angels” reruns. Still, I had always dreamed of expanding my horizons and honing my survival skills in a foreign country, and this seemed the perfect opportunity. Soon I was crammed in a car with several adventurous Fraser Valley Academy classmates, headed south like the Joads into the great American unknown. It was a simpler time, and crossing the 49th parallel involved few of the hurdles now required of Canadian students. The border patrol agent still asked questions, of course, but the interaction mostly involved contraband fruit, and if I recall, a random toque-frisking of Kraig Scott. When the situation grew suddenly tense, we attempted to bribe the officer with a roll of our very colorful money, then sped away while he was laughing. I arrived in the Walla Walla Valley for the first time in September of 1979, and my memory now consists of little more than scattered, insignificant images—the Whitman Monument, the “Walla Walla College Next Right” sign, the onion stands, the appearance of a barren wasteland devoid of all life. We pulled into town tired, shell-shocked and, frankly, embarrassed for thinking the College Place water tower was the Space Needle. After hauling my meager belongings up to Room 416 of Sittner Hall North, I collapsed on the bunk and fell into a fitful sleep tearfully humming “God Save the Queen.” My initial apprehensions about being a stranger in a strange land proved groundless. Deans Meske and Prohaska took special interest in this ragtag group of Canadians, replacing our animal skins with warm blankets and insisting we sleep indoors. In my first advising appointment, I was surprised to clearly understand almost every word Dr. Dickinson said, although I had never heard the phrase, “for crumb’s sake” before. I wanted to question his semantics, but quietly reminded myself, “Words don’t mean. People do.” By late November, the perennial fog had settled over the valley and mercifully it was finally winter. To the amusement and sometimes derision of our new American friends, we flooded the tennis courts behind the library to pursue our national sport, and racial tensions ran high when we monopolized the dorm TV room for “Hockey Night in Canada” each Saturday night. As we were grudgingly accepted into campus life over the next couple years, we became emboldened, demanding weekly pirogies and sauerkraut in the cafeteria and insidiously infiltrating “The Collegian” with Bill Gerber’s socialist/pacifist sports perspectives. Then it finally happened—every Canadian mother’s greatest fear. Over the next five years, imperceptibly, almost glacially, I became assimilated. By graduation, my transformation was complete and I was thoroughly Americanized. I wore sneakers, not runners. I drank unsweetened iced tea, and proclaimed m&m’s® as infinitely better than Canada’s indigenous Smarties. I chose the Super Bowl over the Grey Cup. I switched from Anne Murray to Barry Manilow. I even stopped lobbying kgts to have Darold Bigger’s sermons simulcast in French. Now as a proud, prodigal Canadian, I admit all this with considerable regret. It was a sad, traitorous period in my life, one that haunts me to this day, and years later I’m still trying to make amends to my long-suffering country. As WWC’s director of recruitment in the late 90s, I married a Canadian to help keep the numbers up, and as part of my court-mandated rehabilitation still spend 10 hours each week mispronouncing “garage” and “roof,” avoiding eye contact and listening to Celine Dion. My experiences as an international student at WWC were priceless and life-changing, and I choose to believe my time here was equally beneficial for those whose backgrounds I didn’t always share or understand, but whose lives I touched. I learned that when cultures constructively collide, everybody wins. After all, I gave my new American friends the gift of tolerance and multi-cultural appreciation, and I gained a passionate love for extra-sweet onions. Not a bad return, eh?

 

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