I was following my normal routine and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Throughout the morning I stumbled up and down the stairs and bumped my way through the narrow halls past the crowds of faceless arrogant teens. However, by lunchtime there seemed to be some kind of commotion in the air, the type of quiet disarray that you can’t quite put a finger on. Kids were receiving unsettling phone calls from parents, and now the air was becoming increasingly discomforting. I didn’t have the convenience of cell phone to connect me to the outside world, so I was only able to gather bits and pieces of information as I observed the unnatural unrest in the lunchroom. Even though cell-phones weren’t allowed in school, they actually proved very useful for those that had them on that September morning. The only clue I had was if I bothered to look out of the window I would see a faint trail of smoke far in the horizon.

I had been sitting in my science class when I began to have an inkling that something was just a bit off. I remember it was a Tuesday because that day we had a double period of chemistry separated by a lunch break in the middle. Except this time my regular teacher didn’t show up for the second section of the class. Right after the break a substitute teacher replaced her without any introduction. She nonchalantly assigned us some work to hold us over for the period and announced that it would be collected and graded by our regular teacher. The class was confused by the turn of the events, since we had just seen our teacher before break and everything seemed fine. We exchanged surprised glances among ourselves, and the class clown broke the ice, voicing the question of the entire class: “Why did our teacher leave in the middle of class?” The rest of us followed suit and began to bombard her with questions – all to no avail. The sub was not able to satisfy our curiosity, and that increased our restlessness. She avoided any concrete answers and just told us that she wasn’t in the position to tell us anything, but that we would all know soon enough.

As if on cue, with 11 minutes remaining in the period, the entire school was called down into the cafeteria, class by class. By this time, we were bewildered and it became clear that something was brewing in the atmosphere. Class was not interrupted for trivial matters – and I just couldn’t shake off that creepy sensation that something horrible was brewing in the air. All around there were phone calls being made, whispers and rumors going around among the kids, and orders being followed. Our academy facilitator stood up on one of the cafeteria tables so that everyone could see and hear him as he was making announcements and directing affairs. I remember wondering how the old table with its paint chipping off was able to hold the facilitator’s hefty frame. The facilitator read a list of student names who were supposed to proceed into the hallway immediately since they were being picked up by their parents. I was shocked to hear my own name, because I generally didn’t get picked up from school, no less in the middle of the day! I took public transportation to get home, and my parents were working the entire day, so I was completely confused at this point.  Nevertheless, I glanced at my friends as I left, only to be even more surprised to see my big sister, Irina, waiting for me in the lobby by the entrance of the school. She had a look of distress overshadowing the features of her pretty face, and I could no longer believe in the possibility that there was a simple explanation for the entire disturbance.

“What happened? Why is everyone being picked up?” I ran up to her and immediately began to shower her with questions, trying to allay my confusion.

“They didn’t tell you anything?” asked my sister. “You don’t know what’s going on at all?”

“What do you mean?” Just tell me already, I wanted to scream.

She sounded cryptic as she promised to tell me everything once we get to the car. It wasn’t going to be easy to say, I could tell that much.

When we finally got there, I saw her boyfriend, Robert (now her husband) at the wheel. He had come from work wearing a suit, and was driving with sunglasses on to block the sun, which was deceivingly bright and falsely promising of a radiant day. He seemed to be knowledgeable about what has happened and what to do next, and everything started to fall into place as Robert and Irina began to uncover the current events. I was shocked to hear about the horrible acts taking place right in NYC, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. The more I heard, the more I grew disgusted at my own ignorance.

At that point all I wanted was to see my parents and have their reassurance that everything will be O.K. I wanted to feel comforted and I wanted to know that they are safe. However, my parents were at work as expected; they had been working at a pharmaceutical company upstate NY. Their commute ordinarily took one and a half hours by car, through Manhattan. Even if my parents left work now, there’s no telling when they’d get home! Besides, they didn’t have a cell phone so they wouldn’t be able to reach us from the road. The only contact we had with them was when they called my sister to tell her how to handle the situation and instruct her to pick me up. They said they will be on their way home and warned her that they may even have to spend the night along the road, maybe in a hotel.

Immediately after getting home, my sister and I turned on the TV to watch the reports and traffic updates. With a trembling hand, I flipped through the channels, all of which featured the same grim clips. I imagined what it would be like to be one of those people on the screen. How would it feel to feel everything around you crumbling? If I were there, could I even process what was happening through the devastatingly loud noise and chaos all about? Would I know where to run for safety, or would I feel trapped? The foundation of my whole world would be instantly shattered, and as evidence New York City’s skyline would bear the marks of infringe.

That night I was terrified to think, I was terrified to feel. I could not absorb all the information that the media sent out. The mass destruction was unbelievable – surely it was inhuman in nature, I remember thinking. Plus it was hard for me to deal with the images of horror and the people running from the dark smoky pillars, literally scattering in every direction. I was especially nervous and scared to think about my parents getting home that night. Sick with worry, the three of us at home were waiting to hear from them, trying not to jump to conclusions. I remember pacing the apartment and not knowing what to do with myself, where to turn, and how to process all the emotions that I was feeling. My sister and I prayed for my parents and for all the people who were at the actual site of the calamity. They, more than anyone, would have to deal directly with the consequences of that fateful day. Later I was heartbroken to find out that one of my friends lost his mother to the disaster. Even with time, his facial features have retained the pain he has felt in the intense, almost haunted, gaze he acquired since then. It is doubtful that the carefree glitter of his eyes will ever return.  To this day I cannot begin to imagine how he has been coping with this tragic loss. I can only relate to a fraction of a degree, simply because I have felt the same fear: the fear of not knowing whether you will see your parents walking through the door or not.

Finally, late into the night, my parents showed up! It took them five hours to get home because they had to make a huge detour around the city and go through the Bronx, but at least they wouldn’t be stuck there overnight. My sister and I were relieved, and when my parents finally appeared at the door, we were filled with joy. We hugged like we never hugged before, and felt grateful to have each other.

I will never forget how the events of that day unfolded for my family in particular, and in a more general sense how it affected the world. Anyone could relate to some event that has in one way or another touched them and will forever remain in their memories. Just as the skyline of NYC suffered a breach, my own values and outlook on life were shook up. Everything got flipped upside down and I was no longer sure that NYC was indeed the center of the world; I no longer felt sheltered from harm and my sense of security now felt distant and somehow surreal. After experiencing something like that, everything else in life becomes relative to that one point, the one cataclysmic moment that will forever stand out from the background.

1. Phazing (Dirty South ft. Rudy)
2. Louder than words (David Guetta ft. Afrojack)
3. Take over control (Afrojack ft. Eva Simons)
4. On the floor (JLo ft. Pitbull)
5. Alien (Katy Perry)
6. Tonight/Give me everything (Neo ft. Pitbull)
7. Party rock anthem (LMFAO)
8. Rolling in the deep (Adele)
9. Beautiful world (Tiesto & Mark Knight)
10. Malo (Avicii)

Although the room is not large, it is fashioned to serve multiple purposes and is coordinated to function efficiently. There are strips of mirrors along sections of the walls, which make the room look more spacious and enhance light. Along one side of the room is a mirror stretching across the entire wall. It reflects the dancers’ movements fully covering the rectangular floor. The bottom of the mirror is slightly smudged with fingerprints from the kids that use the room in the daytime. The room functions as a playroom for children in daycare as well as a dance studio during weekends and evenings. The kids’ folding beds stand in the far corner in order to maximize the dance area. Kids’ drawings, early writing exemplars and other creations are posted on the other walls and cover the door. Bright blue, green, red and purple banners are cluttered in every available space, and there are even 3-D decorations hanging in some places. The most annoying of these is a huge silver disco ball hanging in the middle of the ceiling. It’s amazing how the dancers didn’t knock it down yet. One of them could easily jump or kick-jump high enough to touch it, or perhaps even knock it down with enough force.

In addition, the ornaments seem to match the season of the year. As Valentine’s Day is coming up, currently pink and red colors dominate the scenery. Warm-colored paper hearts of all sizes adorn every inch of empty space between the ceiling and the floor. Even parts of the mirror are blocked by the festive cut-outs. Apparently, the kids’ creative outlet has been concentrated into filling up the entire room with beautification. This adds additional distractions to the dancers, as they now have to avoid tangling the hearts hanging down from various places on the fringe between the wall and the ceiling. Unfazed, they continue their routine because they are so used to the childrens’ antics and thus the somewhat eccentric general effect on the design of their dance space.

On the opposite corner from the beds stands a piano with a pink cloth covering it. Next to it is a huge black boom box exploding with sound. Techno music is blasting through the massive speakers and its effect is palpable in the movement of the dancers. It is in large part a source for the excitement, and sets the tone for work. The upbeat rhythm it produces now is be a real change from the classical music playing just a minute before, when the dancers had been warming up on the bar. Now the bar stands off to the side, abandoned. Classical, eloquent yet strenuous ballet stretches have now been replaced by vigorous fast-paced work out. The girls have spread out to do individual routines such as back stretches, splits and crunches. They begin a series of complicated exercises, lined up one after the other. They proceed with kicks, jumps, turns and twirls, and cartwheels. The dance teacher watches as they stretch, evaluating ability, effort and grace. She sits on a chair next to the piano and observes the action unfolding in front of her. Her facial expression varies from unreadable to vacant at times, then switches to full attentiveness. As her eyes light up, she responds to her dancers by giving them feedback both by verbal and nonverbal communication. She gestures to them and mimics flaws in their performances. This method not only entertains the dancers, but also adds a personal vibe between them and the teacher. Although she imitates them in jest, they understand the point and take the criticism in with a defiant smile. It is obvious that the students enjoy the teacher’s interactions because they love and admire her; at the same time they respect her authority.

Another kind of noise adjoins the sounds of the music: the natural noise kids and teens usually carry with them wherever they go. This additional resonance weaves among the dancers and emerges in between movements. Gossip, laughter and mundane chit-chat flavor the musical noises and add a vibrant feel to the room. They are all gathered in the cluttered room for the same purpose, and there is a bond formed from the common aspirations among the girls. All of this takes place in a not-too-grand location, within the confines of four walls. In this particular, cluttered room the combination of smell, sound and motion create a special sort of energy. It is almost magical the way a mundane Wednesday night can be transformed by this blend of ingredients. Each person, sound, smell and grunt add something unique and the effect is indescribable. This small studio is a place of creation, and each element is enhances the essence of the overall product. Dripping with perspiration, the girls visibly put forth their maximum effort into the movement. Drained and exhausted, they still smile. Physically depleted, their spirits have found freedom of expression through dance in the space of a small but welcoming environment.

This is the first year that St. John’s is implementing the “IPPE” (Introductory Pharmacy Practice Experience) in its program of study for third year pharmacy students. We are the “test subjects,” if you will, for these introductory rotations that involve a number of challenges to the already demanding curriculum. The goal of these IPPEs is to introduce students to the common workplace of the pharmacist, which presumably the student had no prior contact with before choosing it as their desired career path. In any case, NYS requires that third years complete 100 hours of observation at these preliminary rounds in community and hospital pharmacies, before returning to similar sites as fifth year interns. While the idea behind getting to know your future workplace is a beneficial one, the means of its implementation may not be the most convenient or even logical ones. Many St. John’s students feel that the administration of IPPEs is unfounded and ineffective, from the level of the program’s organization in our University’s headquarters, all the way up to the idea behind these introductory rounds.

In the eyes of students, there are too many losses and not enough gains from the way these IPPEs have been set up. First of all, most students who are already in the program (and all 3^rd years are already part of the professional program) have an idea of what their future jobs may entail. A lot of students work in pharmacies already, so the observational goal of IPPEs will be almost like a step backwards for them. Finally, students are losing out financially on these rounds because: they are not getting paid since they are only observing; they are missing a day of productivity if they are employed by a pharmacy; and they are not being reimbursed for traveling expenses (not to mention opportunity costs of spending time studying or working). In the end, the eight hours of every week spent at the site (and time spent commuting) will only add up to a pass/fail grade for a one credit course.

Aside from expected errors and mix-ups under normal administrative functions, a lot of misunderstandings students have faced with their IPPEs this semester are due to the newness of the program itself. Nonetheless, St. John’s staff has been working hard to fulfill its requirements as an accredited institution to educate their students by the means described by their superiors.  Everything was in the works beginning from the fall 2009 semester, during which students had to submit multiple forms including updated medical records, HIPPA completion, OSHA training and background checks – for which there was a considerable fee.  Having met the deadlines, students were assigned to locations based on the order in which they submitted their forms, preference (ranked 1-9, the boroughs  and LI counties), address, and whether or not they had a means to travel, i.e. owned a car. Not only was this system imperfect in accommodating everyone, the administration repeatedly warned students that any requests to change the assigned site of rotation will not be honored. Granted, in doing so, they were protecting themselves from a lot of bombardment and complaints from students, but shouldn’t it be part of their job to look out for all their students and value their concerns? Perhaps 250 students are too many students to indulge, but I believe that each student deserves the best education St. John’s has to offer, and the best effort on the administration’s part to make that happen.

I myself, tried to switch my assigned rotation site but was told that nothing could be done for me. I handed every form in on time, I maintained a stellar GPA, I wrote on my form that I had no means to travel to my site; yet I still depended on the luck of the draw, and got assigned to a pharmacy surrounded by three cemeteries, to which I would need to commute with 3 train transfers and a bus transfer, taking two hours.  My philosophy is this: the less time we spend traveling to the site, the more time we have to dedicate ourselves to the experience, and study for our other classes. I was told that if I switch my site to a more preferable one to me, it would be unjust and the same exception would have to be made to all students. Furthermore, I had done something totally unacceptable – I got directly involved in the fate of my IPPE rotations, and got permission from a preceptor in my area to complete my IPPE hours in that location. Apparently, this went against the entire system because in a way, I was going behind the administration’s back and put the preceptor in an uncomfortable situation, whereas he could not refuse the opportunity to help out a fellow St. John’s student. I was being lectured for trying to take my educational experience into my own [capable] hands. This was a complete 180 degree turn from my usual associations with administration; I’ve always been a straight A student, and the only other times I was in the dean’s office was to talk of my accomplishments and good things that are sure to come in the future. So I wondered, what does this advice say for the learning experience that St. John’s has an obligation to give me? Shouldn’t educators encourage students to seek the best for themselves, to think independently and to find solutions?

The whole mess of misunderstandings, complaints, and pleas for “exceptions” could be placated by assigning students to sites in a timely fashion. The rotation schedule and location was revealed to students less than a week before they had to go out on them! Perhaps this was due, again, to the fact that this is a new program, or perhaps to reduce the amount of complains or pleas to switch out; in either case, students should not be penalized for the inadequateness of this program’s administration. Since this program is brand new, perhaps some exceptions should be tolerated during the time of its introduction.

Even more helpful would be to avoid this tangle with students altogether. Instead of having St. John’s administrators as intermediaries in this entire process, it would be easier for all parties involved to have the students search for their own IPPE sites. This would not only save the administrators the hassle and pressure of trying to please the students and do their job for everyone justly, it would teach students the responsibility of being in the “real world” and making their own connections and choices. I even have a proposition for how this can work. A student with a site in mind can get the agreement of a potential preceptor, then report to the school to come evaluate the site and prepare the necessary paperwork and contracts if they deem it suitable. Yes, this would take potentially 250 visits if each student has their own individual site, but maybe it is worth the trips if all the aforementioned stress can be forgone. Or perhaps the documents proving the existence of the site and a phone call to the preceptor would be sufficient to deem the site suitable. As long as the student gains the required learning experience, then the goal of these IPPEs would be fulfilled.  So far the evaluation process to this involves filling out a learning packet, putting in the required amount of hours at the site, and getting assessed by the preceptor based on our professionalism and aptitude. As long as these are all met, it shouldn’t matter who chose the preceptor site. For those students that cannot find their preceptor in the allotted time, the school should offer some of their affiliated sites.

One step further than that would be to have all the students that are already employed as pharmacy technicians to verify this by documentation, and being able to circumvent to the process altogether. If the issue here is distrust and cheating, all St. John’s has to do is check the reliability of the documents by contacting the preceptors themselves. I for one, am all for learning new things and getting hands-on experience (or in this case, observation only) with something concretely related to my chosen career. I just think there is an easier way to go about it, and just because it hasn’t been done before, it should not be ruled out as impossible. My other suggestion was to switch my day of rotation to a weekend day, and I was immediately reproached for this as well, since it was not part of the policy.

IPPEs do not have to bring about a collective groan from students and administrators alike. We don’t have to shake our heads and slump our shoulders in defeat at the start of each rotation. Instead, we can make this a positive experience to look forward to by having a more active role in its management. The worst feeling is that of helplessness: trapped with no alternatives. Students should be encouraged to go out and make their own choices regarding their education. St. John’s has already given us the background, but we should slowly take the reins into our own hands. This will not only simulate practice in the real world, but will allow students to feel in control of their destiny and thus be willing and proactive in their IPPEs. Furthermore, it would alleviate some administrative responsibilities and stresses, since they would not be liable for the students’ decisions.

We live in a free country where anything is possible, so I think students should take more responsibility for themselves. Treating all students with equal respect is one thing, but running a policy of “no exceptions whatsoever” sounds dangerously close to socialism. If everyone was made to conform, no great people would ever stand out. We should not be afraid to think creatively. In fact we should be encouraged to look for solutions outside the box, and not only make life easier on everyone, but create better experiences in doing so.

Well back to Barcelona, it was really nice! We caught great weather there, went to the Picasso museum, walked along the main street La Rambla, which was amazing, and shopped for souveneirs and had icecream and hot chocolate, and ate paella both days. It finally satisfied my authentic paella craving, having it both days for lunch . It was so filling we didn’t even have dinner. Then we stayed at a hostel, for the first time, called Hello BCN!. The rooms had 2 bunkbeds each, and the bathrooms were clean. The downstairs had a lounge feel, some comp wit internet access in one corner, a bar in another corner, and a whole section wit couches chairs n low tables, to chill and/or eat. They had vending machines and a foldout table tennis also. There was a kitchen in the back where you can store things in the fridge or cook for yourself; tea was free and breakfast was included. The second day we went to this amazing park – parque de Guelle, and checked out the beach, and walked around. the magic fountain was unfortunately closed (we found out the hard way lol)…but we still made the best of 2 days there, and took overnight trains there and back. That was an adventure, but we had good company n no one complained, even when we were getting lost and hungry..after food our mood always lifted =]]]

And good news – these cuties are for Sale!!!!!!!!! My dance teacher is selling, so it’s a trusted source =]

Or, you can just enjoy the fotos!!!!

<3