Dear Trainees...

Very, very soon, the new volunteers will arrive. If you're reading this, perhaps you yourself are a new volunteer who's in his/her last week before hopping on the plane to staging. I just received your training schedule from my training manager. You'll be in training for ten weeks. He wants me to help you when you arrive; maybe he'd like it if I taught one or two classes for you on safety and security, or on medical issues. Unfortunately, I can't help you.

I was once in your shoes. That goes without saying. I was absolutely terrified that I would be dumped in a remote village without any language or cultural knowledge; what seemed romantic and adventurous when I signed up was slowly evolving into a reality that scared me to death. I no longer had the inclination to travel to foreign lands, especially not if it meant leaving my family, friends and boyfriend for two whole years with no guarantee of regular communication. I feared that everyone else would be more prepared than I was-- that they had already memorized the Georgian alphabet, or that they were proficient in wilderness survival measures, or that they were all certain in their bleeding hearts that Peace Corps was the right choice for them and I was the only one who had any doubts.


I got off the bus and met my host family with the same sense of panic that you will have.


I sat in language classes for hours on end, like you will.


I pretended to listen to repetitive information sessions at hub day, just like you might.


I received my site placement with the same feeling of anticipation and anxiety that you will have.

So you'd think that I'd be in an excellent position to give you moral support in your time of monumental change. The problem is, I've been here too long. This is not to say that the reason I can't help you is because I know everything about Georgia; far from it. The problem is that I've forgotten what I learned. I don't understand when you ask questions about whether Georgia has snow, even though I asked the same thing. I can't believe you'd ask whether there's enough electricity to run a laptop, even though our group got 10,000 different answers to that question when we asked. It boggles my mind when you ask whether there's dry cleaning... well, come on. That's just stupid. But we asked that too.

Everything I say to you would sound negative and resigned, much as this post probably does. To me, it's just straightforward, but to you, it's pure, unadulterated cynicism, which an upcoming volunteer has no patience for. Nor should you. Who needs a cynical volunteer who hasn't even started working yet? Where would you go from there?

Thus, it is my recommendation that you ask the G7s for help. I noticed already that Peace Corps has been forwarding your emails to them instead of us; perhaps they had problems with G1s trying to disillusion the G3s. In any case, it's for the best. This, of course, doesn't apply to Sara, the volunteer leader who has transcended the label of G6 and become some kind of mega-volunteer who is all the assistance you'll ever need. But don't ask the other G6s. We may:

- give a condescending answer that begins with "some day you'll..."

- laugh

- respond with the number of days left in our service

Et cetera. I'm sorry for this; I truly am. I apologize in advance if I do happen to bring my COS-crazed mind into your vicinity. And just for the record, you could probably ask any departing G6 if they regret joining Peace Corps, and they will say no emphatically. So bear that in mind, and good luck!

Dry cleaning? Seriously?