A Spectrum of Engaged Learning Experiences

The contented “huff” of a brewing pot of coffee will no longer hold the same sense of familiar comfort that it does now---the inadvisable cups of coffee that have sustained me through the last 4 years of late night papers will no longer be necessary. I’m preparing to move past that part of my life, trading in my bachelor’s degrees for a full-time job, or perhaps a fellowship that will allow me to dabble in an entirely different field. Maybe it’s the ingrained nature of my Jesuit education, but I cannot help but feel waves of reflective nostalgia wash over me when I consider my years at Loyola. In my time, I’ve been fortunate to develop through a variance of experiences, both academic and co-curricular. I’ve pushed myself to the limits, and sometimes beyond, but I’ve always been able to re-center when the time calls.

            Reflecting on my internship experiences, I have come to the conclusion that not all internships are created equal. That is to say, they are not concrete paradigms of experiential learning like some may believe. It would be remiss of me if I did not acknowledge that each of the experiences I’ve had have been fruitful in some way or another. After all, one can doubt the measurable value of an experience but they can never doubt it for its value in opportunity.

            I first dipped my toes into the realm of internships as a first year, uncertain of the world around her but curious nonetheless. Working at ONE Northside challenged me to live in the learning zone, that space which is situated squarely between that of comfort and fear. Interning for four hours a week, it was a humble experience, and looking back, my mentor was full of grace. Much of my time was spent cold-calling fellow Chicago neighbors, encouraging them to aid us in one campaign or another. My heart now sympathizes with those who work for the American Red Cross, constantly calling, yet finding that “success” is few and far between. Yet, I learned patience. I recognized the importance of words that matter, words that get to the heart of the issue. I also found myself in spaces of demonstration, of community passion that resounded in the city. Yet, despite the good of this work, I never felt connected to it. It certainly gave me perspective, but not feeling. At times, I felt like an imposter, trying to figure out my place as someone who had never been affected by those issues that were most salient, issues of wage insecurity and discrimination. Nevertheless, my mentor always checked in with me, offering me a presence that allowed for growth as I questioned my own beliefs and societal understandings.

            Looking to expand my understanding of how change takes place, I interned with an Illinois General Assembly senator my junior year. Doubling my experience to eight hours a week, I was tasked with policy research, event staffing, and the cliché, note-taking. Some days I felt like what I did was worthwhile, other days I felt that my work was simple and lacked rigor. A game of catch, I never felt deeply about the work. In fact, I questioned the impact of the office and pondered the good that was being achieved. I rarely interacted with the representative, and when I did, they felt cold and unapproachable, more of an academic than a civic. This commentary, though, is not intended to question the character of the office, but the system of governance and bureaucracy itself. An experience where I had little personal development and challenge, I looked forward to a breath of fresh air.

            Recognizing my true passion of legal advocacy, I actively sought an internship experience that would allow me to observe the judicial process as it related to public interest. This bring me to my current internship where I work sixteen hours a week (although I desperately wish it could be more) with Cabrini Green Legal Aid (CGLA). As an intern, I see a unique reflection of my own values in that of CGLA’s. Each day I am challenged to think creatively about issues relating to criminal defense and records. I reflect on civil asset forfeiture and the current system of incarceration. I research ethical models of collaboration between social workers and attorneys, organize campaigns to provide holiday gifts, manage the cases of my own clients, partake in workshops at The Chicago School, and visit community partner sites and state correctional facilities. I am beyond blessed in my position, viewed as more than just an intern. Furthermore, I am supported through in three different settings of guidance. I feel that I am a true part of the workplace community at CGLA, and I see the devotion in each employee. I love my internship, so much that I find myself anxious to finish school, wanting to rush ahead to work as an attorney, too.

            Yet, this is where I take pause in my experiences. This is the moment where I brew a single cup of coffee, not to write but to listen…to listen to my own internal thoughts. I’ll admit, I have been fortunate to have a fantastic internship…but I’ve also had an internship that left me looking at the clock, yearning for the end of the semester. Although, I’ve also learned that experiential learning does not take place solely because of an “ideal” internship. Rather, the true value of internship is in its relationship to “theory and practice,”[1] to what David Thornton Moore sees as “educational integrity.” An internship, as a stand-alone experience is one-dimensional and cursory at best. I may have learned the “hard skills” of research within the senator’s office, but without my critical reflection of the values and work environment, I would have never recognized my own attachment, or lack thereof, to the work. Thus, I do not doubt a single moment of my varying experiences, because each has gifted me the opportunity to connect my experiences in the classroom with those of the “real world,” making me all the more of a “real” professional as I search to find what exactly my next steps will be when I walk across the stage in May.