Two rooms, 210 kids, three teachers, no bathrooms, no cafeteria, and books are what was asked for. Dark green wool skirts and sweaters, and 210 shaved heads stood in front of me expressing what they thought would make school better. Books!

Missing the refreshing taste of ice-cold water, I was in Tanzania now, where I have been for the past two weeks doing community service. It is mid-July, and girls and boys, only to be separated by a skirt or khakis, leave their huts at sunrise to conquer their five- to 10-mile walk to school. When the chance to visit a "private school" was presented to us, out of curiosity of what Tanzania considered a private school, we hopped in our safari-styled land cruiser and took the 20 minute drive up, down and around the dusty-orange, rocky roads. We passed kids dressed in their distinct school uniforms, walking at a heavy pace down what seemed to be never ending roads, for a full day of learning. I quickly realized how much I had taken for granted, even something as simple as the option to ride the bus to school.

"An Education is hard to get for many girls in Tanzania, the walk to school is too long, they are susceptible to rape, and it happens all too often" a teacher explained. Our smiles quickly disappeared from our faces. This isn't right, this isn't fair, I thought. They need more class rooms; they need a ride to be safe.

420 wide-eyes beamed on our white, curious faces, as we asked, "What would make your education better?" In broken English, a deep voice from the back rang, "Books, we share books, no one can take them home, no one can learn at home." BOOKS! I thought, how about a safe environment? A safe ride to school? Ask someone from my school what would make school better and I'm sure you would hear a shorter day or a longer lunch, not more books. Then I let my ignorance go, and realized that learning and educating themselves is a means to a better life; they do what they have to do.

As I watched these kids, my age, sit three to a table in their wool attire, at noon time in the sweltering heat, no one spoke a word, and no one fidgeted. All 420 eyes fixated on the 10-year old chalk board as they vigorously copied down what their teacher wrote. If you were to come to my high school, a class of 30 students is too big, with frequent trips to the bathroom and notes being passed, it is easy to get off track. I thought of all the opportunities I have because hundreds of years ago my ancestors walked miles for an education and made our country what it is today. These young people together are building up Africa and I admire them.

For the hour I was with them, I learned how important education really is. When I returned home, I promptly e-mailed my guidance counselor and changed senior elective classes like volleyball to courses like honors psychology. I don't deserve my education more than anyone of those 210 kids, so I refuse to take it for granted. I want more books.

Team Tanzania, July/August - 2006

Our first IHSM program in Tanzania was a tremendous success thanks to our volunteers and to our exceptional host, Father Jovin Bampabula. No matter where we were, no matter how hard we were working, or how tired we may have been, we could always look to Father and be met with his constant smile and contageous laugh! We are grateful to Father Jovin for his love, friendship, and for his commitment to make this mission possible. Asante sana, Father!

We at Mir Pace extend our heartfelt thanks to Alissa, Carly, Catherine, Chris B., Chris J., Lexa, Melissa, Mike, Nerissa, Ricky, Rosie, and Janet for "being the change we wish to see in the world!"