The Flavor of Community

A year of service will change you, that is without question. You can’t wake up every day, work your hardest to assist others, fail, and then do it again the next day without becoming a little more patient, empathetic, and creative. As my character matured throughout the year, I picked up some new, very useful skills. For one, leading a robotics club every week put me in a position where I had to orchestrate a room full of middle and high school-aged kids. These children were all friends with one another and I had to somehow convince them to sit, listen, and understand well enough that they could construct a robot to successfully compete in a tournament by the conclusion of the club. It often felt like I was pulling my own teeth out.

One Wednesday in the winter, we were slated to start working on the robots, having finished our designs the previous week. This time of year, it was already dark by the time we pulled up to the house on Oak Street in the All Saints van. We made our way to the basement, where each kid was greeted by a pile of cardboard, hot glue, and Gorilla Tape. The newfound freedom the kids experienced as they began building their own designs, coupled with the loss of structure, since I wasn’t giving a presentation this time, meant that the room quickly descended into chaos. Judy (not her real name, all the names have been changed) needed to use the bathroom, so I led her upstairs to the main floor.

By the time I descended back down the stairs, Buddy had glued Andy’s hand to the table, Kayla was filming a TikTok with two other girls, and Monica was on my computer changing the music I had just put on. I had only been gone for ten seconds! I quickly interrupted each group, getting them back on track. The kids were great when I was actively engaged with them, but as soon as I left to help another group, they would get off track almost immediately.

As the robotics club continued, I developed my own teaching style which suited both my personality and the kids I was teaching. I am neither loud nor high energy, both useful traits for teachers. Instead, I leaned on sarcasm and dry humor, only raising my voice when necessary. It wasn’t perfect. The kids would still lose focus. However, it worked well enough for what I wanted the club to be.

Every Wednesday night I would come home and retell the group shenanigans to the community, almost all of whom had more experience working with kids than I did. Their advice was sound, and I would try to implement what made sense.

“Just be silly like them, they’ll love that.”

I didn’t have the expressiveness to pull that off mid-club meeting while also worrying about logistics and safety.

“Cut this part out of your presentation, it’s boring.”

That was a concrete and needed change that I could easily implement.

I had two streams of input that allowed me to improve my teaching ability: my own experience and the insight of my community. What I didn’t expect was the third, powerful but temporary, way to bring the best out of myself.

Fast forward a few weeks and I’m running the first All Saints robotics competition. My ten kids, divided into three groups, were competing to see who would win it all! This was an event I could not have run alone. I recruited Daisy and Claire as bot-wranglers to keep the kids on track and help with repairs between matches. I rotated between the groups in the familiar dance of past club meetings, helping to fix an issue with one team only to be tapped on the shoulder and hear, “Mr. Aidan, we need help.”

However, this time the routine felt different. With Daisy and Claire present, I felt a shift in energy. Suddenly I could be silly, just like my friends, and just like the kids. This wasn’t a new technique I learned or a piece of advice I was given. It was raw, contagious emotional energy.

I write this reflection from my bedroom in Buffalo. FrancisCorps 26 has ended, and we have all returned home, readying for our next seasons in life. I write this reflection feeling different from the person I was when I started FrancisCorps, now a little more courageous, hopeful, and foolish. However, I also write this reflection missing my community, both the love they showed me and the quirks of daily life.

I expected to feel that loss when I left after sharing a full year with five strangers who became close friends. What I didn’t expect was to miss the part of myself that they brought out and what that absence would teach me about community. When I left, I left a piece of myself there. This was a piece of me that was brought out by Ali, Claire, Daisy, Saylor, and Sebastian. The goofiness at the robotics competition, the spontaneity of a McDonald’s run, and the enthusiasm for some strange adventure after a long day of work – those are all traits that I wouldn’t have been able to ignite in myself alone. Those sparks were planted by my community members and fanned by our relationships.

It goes deeper though. I realized I’m not a monolith affected by Ali, Claire, Daisy, Saylor, and Sebastian in isolated, individual ways. When Daisy’s contagious energy encourages Aidan to be a goofball, it encourages someone who is already shaped by the traits of everyone in the group. It isn’t as simple as person A affecting person B. The goofiness of A, whose goofiness itself is already shaped by B, C, D, E and F, is received by B, whose ability to receive it is also shaped by the other members.

The Aidan who spends one hour a day with each community member is different from the Aidan who spends one hour a day with all of them together.

With the end of FrancisCorps comes the end of that combination, the end of that specific recipe, and the mellowing of the characteristics that it enkindled in me. I will miss the flavor. However, I am certain that their influence, even when less visceral, will help guide my decisions as I begin the next season of my life.

So, what is next?

Come fall and I will begin my PhD in Robotics at Northeastern, working in a lab focused on human-robot interaction. It will be my first time living in a city as large as Boston and the thought that I have more school in front of me than I do behind me is certainly daunting. While I am excited to return to school, I know it won’t be the same as my undergraduate. For starters, the University of Dayton is one of the happiest campuses in the country. Beyond that, master’s classes, lab work, and thesis writing likely means my involvement will be lower than it was before. While I’m bracing myself for this transition, putting together a plan to balance my spiritual, physical, and emotional needs, I also understand how easily I can fall into the traps of self-isolation and work obsession. Unfortunately, I won’t have my community, specifically Saylor, kicking down my door and making me go outside after I’ve been hunched over my desk for eight hours working on a robot. However, I will have their support, wherever they may be, and their influence on my heart, nudging me along.

Who am I? I asked that question in my first reflection for FrancisCorps. I don’t have an answer – sorry to disappoint. However, I have learned this: I am far more shaped by the people around me than I ever realized. The people I surround myself might be considered “external” influences, but they couldn’t be more central to my character, my heart, and my soul.

Categories: General

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