Is it Worth It?

E-Value-ating Value

"Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now."-Homer

As a teacher of both language and literature, my simultaneous best friend and worst enemy is words. Yes, without words I'd have no career. And we as a species would have little else to differentiate our supposedly 'superior' means of communication from those of our fellow life forms on Earth. Still. I hate words as much as I love them. I know I'm not alone in this dilemma.

It's words like 'value' that put me off. They're super simple- easy to spell, easy to pronounce, and definitely easy to remember. The problem is in defining them. How do you sum up, surmise, describe, something so uncomplicated but also broad and unwieldy?

'Value' is both a noun and a verb. It is used synonymously with words like 'worth', 'deserving', 'quality' and 'price'. It is the root word for such terms as 'evaluate', which are central to the way we make both important and mundane decisions in everyday life. To evaluate something is therefore to observe its most obvious characteristics, assess how these do or do not meet your present needs/wants, and then place the thing on either the lower or upper part of your personal continuum of 'worthiness'. Something is only as valuable as it is useful. A fresh, crisp turkey sandwich is of no value to me: I'm allergic to turkey! My younger brother is impartial to the stuff- it's not 'precious' to him, but it's also not valueless.

What about the value we place on the people around us? HOW do you even e-value-ate a human being? It's rather unkind to speak about a person in terms of their 'use' to you. At least, not out loud. The truth is, even unconsciously, it is not above our nature to assign 'value' to other people based on how 'useful' or, indeed, 'useless' they are to us. I remember being a young academic, working my first ever job as a junior lecturer at the local state-owned university. I made it my first priority of the day to arrive early to the lecture theater for my first-ever lecture. You don't want to be late for something as amazing as that, especially if you're just starting your career. I got there fifteen minutes early and stood at the podium, re-checking my slides for the last time and waiting for the tech and media guys to come in and give me any info I might need (you never know what could happen: screen freeze, blackout...earthquake!). Two minutes in, I heard giggling. I ignored it until it became full-blown laughter. I turned to my left to see three young men having a good laugh...at me! "Shh, gofo ia i lalo! Aoooo!" (Oh, just sit down!) one of them quipped. I was twenty years old, probably the same age as one or two of them, and they could not tell I was a lecturer. The utter, abhorrent disrespect! The sheer audacity...But also, the sheer truth this revealed about how young people talk to one another. These students placed little to no value on my self-esteem, ego, reputation or any other thing that might have been utterly demolished had I actually been 'just another overconfident girl.' I knew their cause: they were tired of seeing their female peers goofing around, mimicking lecturers and generally just seeking attention (haven't we all been eighteen and very silly before?). But even this approach, I thought, was very unkind.

How did I deal with being devalued on my first day of work, by the very people I was there to work for? I let them laugh. Until the clock struck 12, the lecture hour, and my colleague came in to give out the lecture attendance register sheets. The students greeted him enthusiastically- he was a more senior academic, and had a great rapport with everyone. "Mr, what's the lecture on today?" one of the kids who had laughed at me called over. "You may ask Ms. Koria, " my colleague smiled, gesturing towards me. "She's delivering today's lecture, and also co-coordinating this course with me!" I have never seen so many jaws drop in my life.

That sounds like a great victory moment in a Hollywood blockbuster, right? Well, it was NOT. If anything, it was a very sad but timely reminder of how quickly we as humans add and subtract value to and from each other on a daily basis. My value shot up in those moments because I appeared useful. I had knowledge to pass on. I had experience to share.

What's the way forward for a situation like this? For a revelation like this? Is there a way forward?

I'll always believe there is!

A year after that unfortunate first lecture, two of the three young men landed in my literature tutorial. I saw this as a perfect opportunity to finally make my point- but kindly, and in a way that would help all of us. Together, we studied the beautiful Kate Chopin short story, Desiree's Baby. It tells of segregation-era couple Desiree and Armand, whose union produces a coloured child, much to the shock of both their very white families. Armand blames Desiree, who he knows to have been adopted by her childless parents. Despite her very pale complexion - "whiter than you, Armand"- her obscure origins make her an easy scapegoat. Desiree tries desperately to save her marriage- she writes home to beg her parents to come and see Armand, and 'confirm' that she is, indeed, white and of European ancestry. Her mother writes an interesting, wonderfully wise response: "Desiree, come home. Come home to your mother who loves you. Come and bring your child." It is only after chasing both Desiree and the child out of their home that Armand makes a shocking discovery: his beloved mother, who had supposedly died in childbirth, was actually absent from his life because she was a coloured woman, and did not want her light-skinned child to deal with the shame of being 'labeled' by such a cruel society.

So, I asked my class, "what do we learn from this?"

Immediately, one of the young men from the lecture raised his hand. "Miss, I think the story is telling us that we should be kind to everyone, no matter whether they're green or blue or pink or old or young or short or annoying...you know what I mean? Because they're people. And people do matter. And sorry for what we said last year, Miss. You're very cool- you didn't chase us out."

"Of course not," I told him. "Because I valued you guys. Still do."

WHY THOUGH? Part II

So Much for So Little?

Volunteer work, N.G.O.s, not-for-profit networks...blogging. These are much-needed, and VERY difficult to do when you live in a third world country that's about as big as an ink blot on an atlas. Also, it's Samoa, for goodness sake. Everyone has a job, maybe even two, and then there's the deluge of family fa'alavelave, 'autalavou meetings, alumni fundraising group chats (hopefully not more than two!), loan deductions...SO: Why even bother taking on an extra workload (and the extra #issues it might bring) for FREE?!

My previous entry was part of the answer to the (very long) question above. A question that, as I said, people love to ask. In thinking about the whole concept of 'asking questions', I realize that while, yes, our Pasifika societies are generally really inquisitive, they also have a deep-rooted love for story-telling. We were chanters, singers, dancers, musicians, navigators and artists- on skin and tree fiber- long before the written word was given to us. A question is, in essence, an invitation to tell a story. It can be a long story: a close friend's "how are you?" can lead to you sharing about an illness in the family or a spat with a nosy colleague. An acquaintance's "how are you?" is generally responded to with the generic "I'm fine thanks, how are you?" We go on and on, being not fine, but saying nothing of it, because even something as abstract as storytelling has its unspoken and clearly defined limits. 

At my father's funeral, his older brother started his eulogy with these words: "Never has so much been given for so little. I know this was originally spoken about some great and famous world leader. But in my little world, I considered my brother 'great', and I consider this to be a very great sacrifice!" This is the way in my Samoan extended family- we say things 'straight up', and how you process any and all of it is your responsibility. It's a tough family to be from- but a good one- all the same, because it prepared me for the harshness of the outside world. And it gave me the same sense of purpose and duty that my father had in his lifetime. Part of this sense of purpose is understanding that the reward for good, worthwhile work is not always a financial one. 

I'd never knock money out of the loop: I, and most people my age, have about six different 'problems' that a little extra cash would definitely go a long way to fix. Money is important. What does that meme ask: ever tried to pay for a trip with courage? (lol) Exactly! WE NEED MONEY! But...it is not, and never will be, the only or most important thing that we need. 

I volunteer, aside from my multiple paying jobs, because it makes me happy. Expending time, energy and brainpower is of course by no means the sole way for a clinically anxious or depressed person like myself to find #TrueHappiness (what even is that...?). It is, however, one of the BEST ways for ME to truly enjoy my life and to reach my ultimate goal: making a difference in my world. You'll notice I use the possessive pronoun "my" there instead of something more general like "the". I know I can't, and probably won't, change the entire planet. I'm just a girl on a little island. But I know I can change my world: the people and places that I have access to. Everyone has their own world- their own sphere of impact and influence.  I often lie on my couch and imagine just how amazing it will be if/when we all do just a little extra to make a difference in our own worlds. The world itself will become a brighter, kinder, more thoughtful place. Yeah, this sounds like a massive delusion, what with the state of international relations at the moment. But if we humans made this little pale blue dot (Carl Sagan's analogy, not mine), so full of war and pestilence and ignorance, surely we are also powerful enough to make it just a little more peaceful, healthy and educated? 

For the last two years, I've been a member of the Global Shapers Community. It's basically the youth engagement arm of the World Economic Forum. Yes, yes, it's completely VOLUNTARY! The goals of our community are simple: we want to include young professionals- aspiring leaders from all walks of life- in the planning and implementation of initiatives that directly shape the future of the world that they are going to inherit. It's a big and small world, after all. The local Shapers Hub in Apia currently has two projects. The first, of which I am Project Lead, is called  the Atamai Online Education and Career Planning Project. We focus on improving educational equity, accessibility and career planning for tertiary students and job seekers in Samoa. Our passion for making education an open-access commodity, so to speak, is born out of our own experiences in the local education system, but also from witnessing the struggles of many young people whose schooling years were interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic and its resulting lock-downs. The second project, called the Carbon Audit, is spearheaded by the many engineers that our hub is blessed to have on board. Their mission is to promote open dialogue about environmental and climate change issues in Samoa, and to raise awareness in our communities about the indispensable role of youth in the ongoing fight against the rising sea level, heightened global temperatures and, most prevalent of all, misinformation.

Will our two little projects get every student in Samoa educated, or stop the high waves from lapping high over the Apia seawall at random times? Probably not. But: will they help a recent uni graduate put relevant info on her CV? Will they remind a group of Year 9 boys not to throw their ice-pop packaging into the nearest waterway? DEFINITELY. And that is all the difference they need to make. That is the world they need to change. It is so little, I agree. But it is also so, so much. And it is worth it. 

WHY, THOUGH? Part I

Leaps of Faith vs. Calculated Risks

Volunteer work, N.G.O.s, not-for-profit networks...blogging. These are much-needed, and VERY difficult to do when you live in a third world country that's about as big as an ink blot on an atlas. Also, it's Samoa, for goodness sake. Everyone has a job, maybe even two, and then there's the deluge of family fa'alavelave, 'autalavou meetings, alumni fundraising group chats (hopefully not more than two!), loan deductions...SO: Why even bother taking on an extra workload (and the extra #issues it might bring) for FREE?!

If ever I had to say what question I get asked the most, it'd definitely be the one above! My students ask me it. My colleagues ask me it.  My mother even asks me it...well, usually in the context of, "you're getting ANOTHER job? Is it another income too, please?" (Pacific mothers, aye?) While giving the same answer to the same question does get a little tiring, I'd also say, to those who ask: hey, fair enough. 

For the last year-and-a-half, I've been simultaneously working no less than two jobs (sometimes three) at a time WHILST also volunteering AND being a sole caregiver as well as a single income-earner. My clinical anxiety works for but also against this, shall I say, 'arrangement'...When I'm productive, I'm sending emails and sharing documents and planning, planning, planning to the point where it's almost annoying if you're on the receiving end. When I'm having an off day (or week, haha!), I'll still do all these things, but much, much, slower. This is equally annoying if you need a report or graph or email response from me. Nonetheless, 'I get it done', as the saying goes. 

To the point now: Why get more jobs, why sign on to more projects, and why make a blog to talk about getting jobs and signing onto projects? Well, it's simple: BECAUSE I CAN. Ability and agency are two of the greatest assets anyone can have. Yes, starting capital (read: inherited wealth) is an amazingly freeing and empowering thing. But it isn't a necessary prerequisite to furnishing your lifetime with the doing of all the things you want to, and the use of your talents and strengths to carve out the kind of legacy you hope to leave behind. I come from a very working class background: my parents were both first in their immediate families to graduate with any sort of tertiary qualifications. My siblings and I went through secondary and tertiary schooling with the help of scholarships and those pesky but necessary loan schemes that our father would apply for. He'd pay off one child's education loan, and then be faced with having to take out another, because by then, the next kid would be ready for high school or university. It wasn't the worst possible scenario you could imagine, but it was certainly not the best. One thing I have taken from my childhood is a deep and abounding appreciation for the ABILITY, and the AGENCY to work good jobs, to learn important skills, and to develop myself as a person. When you grow up with limited agency, you become an adult who appreciates being ABLE, however difficult your circumstances may still seem. 

I can teach, I can write, I can read, I can speak. And I can certainly take down an accurate dictation. Meeting minutes are my #life. The four founding pillars of literacy education in Samoa are listening, speaking, reading and writing. For all that is to be improved in it, I credit the Samoan education system for giving me a very holistic, broad foundation. I have built all four of my careers on this, and it has served me well on days when most other things (and people) have not. The education system that built me was focused on goal-setting. I was taught the importance of logical, measurable steps. Even risks have to be properly planned out. Know what you are risking, and know why you are risking it. Know what abilities you have, and know how much agency and space you have to exercise them. 

I was a nervous kid...painfully so. One night, after struggling through my Year 8 mathematics homework with me, my Dad gave me some (branded and cliche, but very helpful) advice: "Don't be afraid. Don't hold yourself back- if you know you can, then do it! Nike. Just do it!" Fathers, aye? I miss those dad jokes and nuggets of (un)original wisdom everyday. Cringe-inspiring? Probably. But these words have held true for me in all the fourteen or so years since they were spoken to me. There's only so much fretting you can do over a situation or an impediment. If you want to achieve anything worthwhile, you'll have to get to the point where you decide if you really can (or cannot) do it, and then, ACT ON WHAT YOU BELIEVE. Make your calculations, consider your risks, and finally, do the hardest and easiest part: take the leap. That's faith, by the way- stepping out because you know you can.