Humanity, a phrase which here means what one sees when they consider and treat another as a full and complete person.
The Enemy of the Good, a phrase ascribed to perfection (in a quote I can’t remember the author of).
If you know me, you’ll know I have had a long road of struggling to be perfect. Since early in elementary school, I’ve been worried about getting impeccable grades, impressing my parents, standing out amidst my peers. I constantly worry about people perceiving me as on top of things, as completely competent and skilled and able to handle things.
But the problem with being concerned about perfection is, as the quote implies, one ignores or disregards anything that might not quite be perfect, but is still good. As Ellie and I agreed during our group reflection last night, we often struggle with expressing anything during complex discussions because we don’t have something to say that is perfectly complete, polished, or profound. Usually outgoing and talkative, we find this fear of saying something imperfect in a discussion insurmountable, and embarrassingly so.
As is often the crutch in many a CLP class, we preface our ideas with the phrase “half-baked” — meaning that our ideas might not be fully fleshed out or perfectly articulated, but they might worth sharing for the good that they can still add to the discussion. So, like Piper stated beautifully in her post two days ago, this blog entry won’t be perfect. We’ll call it half-baked, or partly boiled, or still slightly raw like Becca and Sloane’s (delicious) pancakes this morning.
So let’s start by dismantling my air of perfection and admit that, over the past couple of days, I’ve come to realize that, in various ways, I haven’t been fully humanizing the people of our new Zambezi community. And by that, I mean that my relationship with various Zambians hasn’t truly reflected the relationship between human beings on a neutral playing field.
Something I admire about Jeff is how authentically he interacts with Zambians. And by that, I mean he treats people here like he would anyone else: the same sarcasm, the same directness, the same tolerance of elephant shit (approximately none). The other day, Natalie and I — subject to a miscommunication — sat in on a church choir rehearsal sung entirely in Lunda and Luvale (the main local languages), and we didn’t know anyone. Though we didn’t get to play guitar and drums as expected, it was really lovely to witness their practice — they’re incredibly talented, but it was just as beautiful to hear them mess up and make mistakes and rehearse again and again. But in between songs, I caught whispered chuckles and hushed comments about chindeles (a term for white folks that is derogatory about 50% of the time). As Jeff and I watched pasta water boil (never a good idea), I broached the subject. He said in similar instances that he’ll often just call someone out and ask if they’re talking about him. And usually, they’ll smile sheepishly and laugh. And then suddenly, the barrier between seeing each other as real human beings — not as attractions or as conveyers of some mystical culture — is broken. Because when you think about it, if anyone started muttering under their breath in front of you, you’d call them out too! So why is it that a different language and a different culture would stop me from making the same human conversation I would make in America?
Some of us have the honor of waking up at the crack of dawn (roosters actually say “cock-a-doodle-doo,” FYI) to race down the road in our trusty Land Cruiser to Chileña Primary School. We help out in the younger classrooms — or, in Kathleen’s case, we’re immediately left alone with two dozen preschool students who speak about five words in English. Natalie and I work with first grade students, who also have a low proficiency in English, met by our even lower proficiency in Lunda. Thus far we’ve helped Madame Akufuna teach three letters over the course of six hours — but best believe these kids can handle any ssspoon, wwwuna (mushroom in Lunda), or caaat that comes their way. But it always takes Natalie and I by surprise when our teacher yells “Noise out, I will beat you!” and waves whichever large yardstick she’s chosen for the day. Our group had a conversation yesterday about our struggles knowing when to address words and behaviors that feel unacceptable — because we know that the culture is different, and that it’s far from our place to waltz into the school and impose our “morally superior” American norms. But, though undoubtedly complex, there’s a way to recognize that some perspectives are based entirely on experience and culture — yet, they can still spark a difficult and compassionate conversation. What someone believes might make perfect sense in context, but it doesn’t mean you can’t have a conversation that disagrees with that opinion. And as Lucia, ever insightful, said last night: someone’s perspective being justifiable certainly doesn’t mean you have to be comfortable with it. Further, bringing up these moments of discomfort with the offending parties is a way to humanize these people we are getting to know — because that’s what you would do with a good friend too. A real connection isn’t supposed to be one in which all perspectives go unchallenged. A real friendship should be able to endure directness and difference in complex thinking. And these conversations won’t be perfect, but that’s perhaps why they’re so meaningful — and the good that can result from them shouldn’t be avoided because of fears of imperfect execution. It’s about creating a human conversation, not an inarguable defense of a moral judgment.
Perhaps my best example of fully recognizing humanity happened during our Adult English classes. One of Alea’s and my students, Rickson, honestly doesn’t need to be taking the class — so much so that he directly called us out after the first day, saying it was too easy and irrelevant, and it could be a waste of time for him to come to class again. It’s safe to say I was intimidated. Thoroughly unprepared was I for a teaching context in which I had to prove my relevance — yet shouldn’t that be every teaching experience? It was only in the deep consideration of what Rickson wanted from our class, and how we could possibly provide that while juggling advanced learners at a variety of competencies, that I realized this was, finally, fully humanizing him. No longer just a teacher-student relationship, we were co-creating the teaching and learning, becoming mutually indebted to each other’s knowledge and experience. And after activities like mock job interviews and popcorn reading a narrative from a Zambian author, Rickson remarked today that the past couple of classes had been just fine (which is Zambian English for pretty darn good), and he was grateful for all of the work we had been doing. So, James, I might have to rewrite my final paper for your class on my Professional Identity as a teacher. Because true humanization comes from recognizing my place as a teacher, in debt to the students for trusting me to create a learning experience that is worthwhile and serves them in their humanity.
And if I could humanize myself and these convent inhabitants a little… here’s to us continually learning how to live together as humans, bringing out the best in each other and making space for the challenges too. Kamy and Ellie always taking initiative in expressing their love. Sloane, Piper, and James never failing to check in after our long and thought-provoking days. Caroline M., Alea, and Jeff keeping this ship upright when some of us fall behind on responsibilities. Sarah, Mia, and Caroline O. for consistently creating an upbeat and optimistic environment. Taylor and Lucia’s insightful questions, Katy’s organizational skills and servant leadership, Carly making sure I know the agenda, Cate encouraging me to take risks and having my back (and my hair). Natalie, Becca, and Kathleen for handling me at my worst and most stressed. I love you and this family we’re building.
Speaking of family: Mom, I can’t wait to connect and “Connect” with you. Dad, you inspire my quiet leadership and consideration for others. Lindsay, you would adore this little gazebo for a reading nook in the pleasant sunny afternoons — I hope summer is going well. Shannon, stay strong. You’re so close to being done with freshman year. Mammie, I miss your cooking (but rest assured that Mamas Katendi and Christine are taking the best care of us). Jax and Avery, sending cuddles. I miss you all so much.
My Squash House roommates — god, I wish you were here to witness the crazy bugs (Leah), the market-to-table cooking experience (Belle), the outdoor adventures (Liam), the incredible music (Sara), the spontaneity and pace of life (Trudy). And the sunsets and laughter and complex conversations (all of you).
Kenzie, you would make the most beautiful paintings and poetry of this experience. Natalie, I wish I could dance around the fire with you. (Also, I’m pretty sure I didn’t send the blog to you both, so trusting that Mom will get on that.)
To all of our parents, siblings, relatives, friends… please keep commenting. You, too, are a part of this humanized and imperfect but good community. Hearing from you brings us so much joy (and often a few tears).
This experience is complicated. And how I show up will never be perfect. But if nothing else, I know I am making progress in how I humanize each and every person surrounding me in this community. Humanizing us all in our flaws, in our complexities, in our imperfections, and in our beauty. And I think that’s pretty darn good (or maybe “just fine”).
Sean Mullins
School of Education, Class of ’27
PS, We are going on homestays tomorrow night, so we won’t be posting a new blog until Sunday.
Sean,
Thank you for sharing your insights and vulnerability. I’m glad that you are fully recognizing humanity in the Zambezi community and leaning into the beautiful and complex challenges. I also agree with the half baked thoughts part. Your thoughts and ideas matter, no matter if they make sense or not. You all have been doing an amazing job and are making us ZamFam members proud!!
-Ellie Powers, ZamFam ‘24
P.S. have you gone to see the Mkishi yet?!
Now you didn’t sign your name to this but my blind guess is this post is from Sean? Whoever you are, Mystery-Writer (my money’s on Sean), what a post! Wow. This post really got me. Nothing half-baked here. I’m learning from you (all) about mutual-indebtedness as accompaniment. Today you got me thinking about my own relationship(s) with my therapy clients and high school counseling students — about how the real shifts happen when we’re somehow present to or aware of the breaking down of any power dynamics and barriers, allowing for *mutual-indebtedness* and honoring it. I didn’t have a name for that feeling or experience before. You all are teaching us (no matter what Rickson thinks!). 😉
Really loved your sharing about tending to stay quiet unless your thoughts are perfect/polished/profound. When I was a few years older than you all, my cousin Cheryl saw me also really struggling with perfectionism. My strive for it (in many areas of life) was squeezing the life from my life — fostering tons of anxiety and plenty of disconnection. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Perfection is death, Cousin. Perfection means: done / over / stagnant. Everything that is alive and beautiful and joyful is imperfect. Perfect or alive — which one do you wanna be?” <3
Kian graduated high school today, Mia! Baccalaureate Mass at O'Dowd tonight. Feels like just yesterday it was YOU leading this mass with your CMT crew. In other news, dear daughter, turns out my iPhone without your texts and voice and face and reels in it is just a boring piece of plastic, glass and metal. 🙁 Zero stars — Not recommended. (Miss you like crazy! Love you big bunches.)
3:07 PM in Oakland. 12:07 AM in Zambezi.
To allllllll of you "Humans Walking Toward Sunset,"
Happy One-Week-in-Zambezi. Thanks for taking us with you.
xoxo, Elisa
You ARE Sean! (Thank you for updating the post. 😉 )
And thank you for letting us know you’re headed to your homestays and no blogs ’till Sunday. (I’ve re-read your post 3x, Sean. Really beautiful. And fun.) Sweet dreams!
Sean!!!! It is so good to hear your voice through your words. I saw the em dashes and got so excited.
I can’t imagine what it is like to learn through all of these new places and experiences. It sounds so, so complicated, and yes, imperfect—it sounds like one of the lessons you’ve been gifted so far is learning to be okay with that, and that imperfect doesn’t mean that anything needs fixing or is being done “wrong.” All the imperfect moments, like being called out for lessons that didn’t challenge your student, misunderstandings at the service, and any of the hard days when you’ve had to rely on your Zambia family, also seem to have some Good to them. It’s wonderful to hear the new, different ways you are finding humanity through the people you are meeting, even if it takes some mistakes and uncertainty to get there. Even when it is complicated.
I am so grateful to hear about your peers that are grounding you right now. Your kindness shines in what you have highlighted the strengths of your peers. It is special to get to know who is in your corner and all of the unique ways they add to the team. Hello and love to all—Zambia family, please hug this guy hard for me.
Miss you goose. Take pictures of the bugs for me. I hope you are dancing, talking, and teaching your heart out out there!!!!!!
Love you,
Leah
Piper— I wanted to reply to your post! I know I’m a few days late, and am still unsure proper commenting etiquette. But, the snapshots of meaningful moments were beautiful, vulnerable, and real. Thank you for this insight into how you are doing and the connection you are feeling to your peers and mentors. Your writing is really special.
Sending love your way,
Leah
Sean! This is so beautifully said—raw, honest, and full of heart. It’s a gift to witness the kind of community you’re all building together: one rooted in love, accountability, and mutual care. The way you name each person’s unique contribution shows such depth of gratitude and awareness. Thank you for sharing a glimpse into this “family” and what it means to grow alongside each other. It’s inspiring—and a reminder that showing up, both for ourselves and for one another, really is the heart of it all.
I think I speak for every parent and sibling here that we are going to miss reading these blogs over the next few days.
Stay safe and have fun! More importantly, Caroline O., try not to get run over by an elephant again.
Inspiring and profound. I hope you and Natalie get to play guitar and drums next time!
Yep… the first line gave me a pretty good inkling, but the 2nd line — about perfection –pretty well confirmed it for me. Indeed, that’s my boy. (heart)
Such a beautiful, introspective, and insightful piece of writing. Sean, your humanity shines through as you embrace your (and all of our) imperfections and continue to learn from them.
Hearing the whispered chuckles in the church (having already “made a mistake” in being there) must have been surprising and perhaps a bit hurtful to you. I applaud you for having the courage to be vulnerable with your feelings and broach the subject with Jeff. And how you (and we all!) have learned from that conversation and now can approach situations from a more enlightened perspective. Indeed it will take still more courage to “call them out” – but when we can respectfully confront others, we are trusting them with our true thought and feelings and growing an authentic relationship. Difficult and true in our own and others’ cultures.
I am in awe of the way you and Alea handled the situation with Rickson and the adult class. Even the picture had me feeling vulnerable for you, as a “young” teacher. Way to show grit, courage and openness to the continual learning process.
At the beginning of your entry, as you talked about your silence in complex discussions, I pondered that for a bit…. I see so much of myself there. So many times, not commenting because I have not learned or researched enough, or can’t find the right (or non potentially offensive) way to express my opinions. Please know that I see and hear you – and very often look up to you as you speak your mind on topics, even when we have different or opposing perspectives. Thank you for continuing to challenge me to speak up – and reminding me that we can challenge, disagree and be uncomfortable — and still respect and love – indeed in an even deeper way.
Ok, long enough, “half-baked” comment!
Although I gotta ask Cate — where’s his hair???? So curious as I know he has been working long and hard on growing it out!!!
Love you, Sean — and yes, I will get the link to Kenz and Nat so that they can follow along.
What an amazing young man you are Sean! Your ability to be so introspective and then wanting to apply what you’ve learned about yourself is remarkable for your age. Those around you will certainly benefit from your insights as I’m sure you have from theirs. Shout out to my niece Natalie!! Can’t wait to read your piece soon. Enjoy your home stays everybody!
Sean! I laughed, giggled, cried happy and sad tears! Talk about powerful writing! Expressing myself in written form has never come easily to me- and I bet it’s also the fear of being short of perfect which held me back. Each of your posts makes me so incredibly proud of the amazing narrators all of you are! Looooved this! From the little cuties you got to experience (6 hours for 3 letters is definitely a lesson in patience!)… to the teacher swaying her yardstick (I’m old enough to recall paddles outside of our classroom doors in Ohio- eek!)…to the powerful connection you made with Rickson. Appreciate these blog posts so, so much!
Will miss hearing from you all! Have fun during your next few days! Hurry back to posting for us!!!
Big hugs, Ween! Miss your big curly head SOOO very much!
Sean, thank you for your beautiful reflection. We hear your call — we’ll keep commenting and cheering you on from home. Your words remind me how connected we all are to this journey. Keep sharing the good, the half-baked, and everything in between!
Caroline M — I miss you so much. I love feeling connected to you through the words and stories from your Zam Fam. Today I got to spend the day with Lucy, and she reminded me how deeply connected we are to family and friends — even when physical distance keeps us apart. Keep shining! Love you, pretty girl!
To all the Zam Fam – prayers as you embark on the homestays. Let your Zag light shine brightly!
Love, Sarah
I really appreciated your thought provoking post, Sean. Sometimes it can be so hard to speak up, but often the best connection happens when we voice our opinions and concerns, just like your student did with you. Instead of dismissing his concerns or placing blame, how wonderful that you used that as a learning experience to grow and get better at what you were delivering to your students! Thank you for sharing your moments of learning and connection on this blog and giving me a glimpse into your work and people you are experiencing in Zambezi.
I’m so glad that Natalie has a kindred spirit who wants to explore music with the people there and hopefully you will both get to jam with the locals at some point!
I miss you, Natalie, and am so inspired by the leap into the unknown that you have taken. I can’t wait to hear more about these stories when you are home:-)
Sean,
I love getting to hear your in-the-moment thoughts and reflections about all that you are experiencing. I melt with pride at how you are tackling new vulnerability, rawness, and a willingness to learn and wrestle with hard things. You are a great human, and you are doing great things. I love you always.
-Kenzie
I have heard this quote so many times “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” After reading you blog I would add…”And the teach will adjust to the students needs.”
Way to go on your growth journey. All of you are developing and growing so fast, what an experience.
Sean – I wish more people would take the time to appreciate and acknowledge the humanity in others like you have. In fact, when people lose sight of that, that’s when bad things happen like crimes against others or even war. The opposite is also true when we see the humanity in others and treat others with dignity and respect. The world would be a better place if everyone took the time to appreciate the humanity in others. I guess that’s what’s happening though. You’re doing that! Thanks for sharing.
I’m sure all those kids, and most of the adults, are so happy you are there. They undoubtedly see the humanity in you as well. Let it shine!
Nice to see a few shout-outs and picts of my girl Nat! She’s pretty cool.
Sean,
What a powerful entry. Sarah and I enjoyed the part about quietness something we are working on it is so powerful to be introspective and sometimes silence is the best way to do that. It must be so wonderful to see a different side of humility and humanity.
Ellie – sarah and I are at Rowan’s missing you a lot we can’t wait to dance with you when you return. Everyone is thinking of you and so happy you are having the best time! Love from the both of us xoxo
Hi Sean & the rest of the Zags in Zambezi!
Thank you all for your posts, thoughtful reflections, and recaps of the adventures you are having! It’s been a couple of posts since I last commented; however, please know that I read each one of them. Each day, I am excited to see what you are all up to and enjoy reading each of your experiences and perspectives as you grow through this journey. I check the blog often, and I think I am starting to figure out the timing when you all tend to post, as well as when you likely read your reflections and comments, and of course, then translate that to Zambia time.
Sean, I enjoyed your reflection and the focus on humanizing us all in our flaws, in our complexities, in our imperfections, and in our beauty! Very well said. I also really enjoyed the part when you wrote – And if I could humanize myself and these convent inhabitants a little… here’s to us continually learning how to live together as humans, bringing out the best in each other and making space for the challenges too. That’s such a wonderful perspective, and it was fun to read how you all support and show up for each other in different ways. To read I love you, and this family we’re building filled my heart with joy!
I always love all the photos you all share. It’s fun to be able to see small glimpses of what you are experiencing. Sarah, I love that I saw you in today’s post, there’s my girl! 🙂 (in the circle of the Adult English Literacy group) It’s so nice to see you and imagine what you all might be talking about – It brings a HUGE smile to my face and lots of love in my heart! I can’t wait to hear all about everything – your classes, your new friends, the people you met, the culture, the celebrations, the insights and learning you’re doing, as well as the challenges you’ve encountered. We love you so much, and Dad says hi!
Sean, thanks for sharing that you are going on homestays tomorrow and won’t post until Sunday. I wasn’t sure what that meant – I googled it, and then it seemed obvious. Home stays… a way for travelers to stay with local families, providing an immersive experience in Zambian culture and daily life. That sounds amazing! I hope you all enjoy your homestays.
Looking forward to the next post!
Sean, thank you for your awesome, insightful post! It truly was perfect!
Wishing all of you the best as you go to your home stays!
We can’t wait to hear about your experiences! Go Zags!!
As I sit here this morning cleaning out the dog’s eye boogers (another one Katy can explain to the group) I’m drinking my coffee mentally preparing to help a million tiny dancers with their “quick changes” and makeup for a dress rehearsal for 6 hours today. They all speak English and all were raised in an environment similar to mine. I’m going to be thinking about you all and the stark contrast between this and what all of you are trying to accomplish in a matter of 3 weeks— oof! And WOW—hats off!!! I will have ZERO complaints today! I loved the blog, and the part of having nothing super profound to say really resonated with me— my kids will tell you I’ve always said they are way smarter than me and I often just listen to “intelligent” conversation—not adding a ton. Wit or humor? Yes I can do that all day which is probably what keeps me afloat with my friends hahaha. So I think I am going to implement the “half-baked” policy you talked about. Everything coming out of my mouth from now own will be coined “half-baked”. Now I can say anything! Tee hee! Empowering!! Katy all is well here— it’s Grammys birthday today! And tomorrow is the big recital— we will miss you!!! I think about you every day all day and pray that you are ok, feeling ok, getting some social battery recharge time here and there and just really enjoying your experience. I love you so much!!! Love, Mama
Hello Taylor, did you. bungee jump. I’m sure you did. how are the elephants>
Looking forward to all the great stories. Love You.
Sean thank you this incredibly authentic and heartfelt post! Navigating life together in community sure can be messy and less than perfect. I love how you have captured the struggles and victories of this first week! That being said, I can’t believe it has only been a week! Reading about how you all are working and growing feels like a lifetime of learning!! Taylor- we all miss you so much! Getting ready for Grandpa Jerry’s big 79th birthday party at The Spaghetti Factory on the 2nd. Meatball Monday won’t be the same without you!! Love, love, love you
Sean, we, granma Pam, and I were among the fortunate ones to already know the letter was yours, from the beginning, as Kevin sent me a text with the information to locate the letter. And even with that it took me 10 minutes to find it in the GU website,,,WOW!! what an experience. And it looks like you will get more from the experience than you will give. I wish it were possible to “bottle” the feeling that you have now and be able to open it up and resoak it into yourself and spread it all especially to those around that didn’t have the Zambia experience, in the middle of finals or a challenge, and feel, not just the love that you have right now for humanity but how experiences fit together for growth. We love you a appreciate you sharing the feelings. Papa