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NOLA:
No Matter How Long It Takes
Welcome
It started as a trickle and then turned into a flood. Not the devastating kind, but the kind that rebuilds and restores.
And now a group of faculty and staff members from Manchester Community College are traveling to New Orleans as part of a class called Community Involvement. We’ll spend seven days in NOLA, working to rebuild the hardest hit areas.
On this page we plan to share our experiences and thoughts with those who could not travel with us. Maybe you’ll be inspired to get your own group together, or to make a donation or to support the rebuilding effort of one of the country’s most unique cities in some other way.
Laisse le bon temps rouler, or as they say in New Orleans, let the good times roll!
Weblog
June 10, 2009
Professor Lucy Hurston
It was a 4:00 a.m. wake-up call that trumpeted in the beginning of the end: our last day in New Orleans, Louisiana. At 5:00 a.m. I arrived in front of Hands On New Orleans (HONO) at 3321 Bank Street and the sleepy-eyed students had already piled their luggage into the van and were climbing in themselves. For the record, Sister Mary smiles and twinkles even at 5:00 in the morning. The caravan headed for the Louis Armstrong International Airport 18 minutes away (thank you again, GPS). We dropped all our cargo (students and luggage) at the curb and headed back to Enterprise Rental Car to return our vehicles. Everyone there thanked us as we boarded the shuttle to take us to the Delta wing of the airport.
The night before I had printed all boarding passes for the group but at the airport there was pandemonium. Had they never heard of Taylorism from the 1890s: a means of improving labor productivity that synthesizes workflows and improves efficiency? We each had to check in again at the kiosks to generate the luggage tags then stand around while one worker’s pulled each tag out of the machine, weighed each person’s luggage, tagged it and took possession of it. There must have been 60 passengers mulling around in this most inefficient process. My bag wobbled between 50 and 51 pounds on the scale. That one pound was going to cost me $50 the un-cheery Delta employee told me. I took my shampoo out of the bag and the scale steadied at 50 pounds. She slapped a tag on it and threw it on the conveyor belt for further abuse. This process took us 40 minutes for our group of 10 and as a pre-coffee experience was quite aggravating. What could be worse? Oh yeah, the security check point. Tania has mistakenly tucked a bottle of perfume in her carry-on bag and TSA threw the full bottle in the trash.
We board our MD-88 for an uneventful trip to Atlanta. There we had a brief one-hour layover before heading home. Because we were to stay on the same plane, the flight attendant let me deplane (their term; not mine) to grab lunch for the group. I went quickly to Checkers (akin to our McDonald’s up north) and bought eight burger-fry-apple pie combos and a large salad for Sister Mary before (is is replane?) returning to our flight. Happy faces munched away and then we were off heading to the northeast.
As we deplaned (you gotta love that term!) and assembled at the luggage carousel it started to his us and the meltdown ensued: we were no longer a cohesive group and would each go our separate way after 10 intensive and emotional days. Hugs, kisses and tears all around. Some people had loved ones pick them up; other left to drive themselves home. I did not leave Bradley International Airport until everyone had scattered. I exhaled, took hubby by the hand and walked away from another wonderful experience. I reflected on how through this venture, the lives of many had changed.
Eric and Andrew in New Orleans would be starting work on another house without us. Lobo and the guys on the porch across from our work site on Mandeville Street would still be sitting there without our conversations and interactions. Our students had contributed to the enhancement of one of the worst natural disasters in our country and expanded themselves and their skill sets. New Orleans was a little further repaired because of Manchester Community College. Individually, each person had grown and changed. Abigail, Kortni, Sister Mary, Sydney, Ashley, Kate, Tania, Alison, Jean, Jeanne and Rebekka. I will miss spending my days and nights with them and yes, even I know what it means to miss New Orleans.
