When International Office director Michael Clarke invited me to attend the welcome “Texas-style barbecue” for SMU’s international students, I thought I knew what to expect – wide-eyed world-crossers munching on novelty foods with barbecue sauce slathered down their fingers as thick as their accents. If I was lucky, there might even be some woefully misinformed Pakistani arrive in a 10-gallon hat and cowboy boots.
I decided I’d go, despite not having any particular affinity for barbecue. (Yes, I’m well aware that’s tantamount to blasphemy in this part of the country. But while we’re speaking of blasphemy, I wondered how many of these people are going to be able to eat meat anyway?)
Nevertheless, as I rode up the elevator to the Stadium Club on the third floor of Gerald J. Ford Stadium, I figured I wouldn’t be the only one sticking to the pastries and potato salad. As I stepped out into the club, I was met by what I had pretty much expected – a shot in the arm of Americana laid on at its thickest.
The sounds of the Mustang Band blared from speakers causing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the football field to vibrate. Through the plate glass windows, I witnessed photographers attempting to corral the first-years for the Class of 2006 picture on the football field below. Welcome to America, it all seemed to shout, home of marching bands, football (not the type of football they’re familiar with) and privileged white kids.
Aside from the staff of the International Office, the only students there were two Asian girls who were sitting in the corner looking down on the field. I went over and introduced myself to one of them –Lisa Terayama, a round-faced, wide-eyed girl from Kwansei Gakuin University in Japan. As we strained to work through accents complicated by the blaring fight song in the background, I learned that she was an exchange student here for a year. As the room began to fill up with more and more students, Lisa told me that she’d come from a school founded by a missionary from SMU and was studying English linguistics.
Clarke, an effusive dark-haired man soon interrupted us calling the dinner to order. He welcomed all the students that had arrived and invited them to eat.
“And if you’ve never had a Texas barbecue before, there are some native Texans here to help you know how to eat it,” he said.
Now, the fun would begin. I hid myself behind the serving table hoping to see signs of confusion. But as I sat in wait for someone to pick up a piece of brisket with a questioning look in his eyes or nervously poke at the potato salad with a serving spoon, the only look of surprise I found was on my own face. The students filed through the line with all the ordinariness of the filing through the queue at that other American mainstay – the all-you-can-eat buffet.
Admittedly a bit disappointed, I sat down with Lisa and her friend Pei-Hsin Lin from Soochow in Taiwan. We were soon joined by Lydia Butts, a blonde woman that aside from her nose piercing looked suspiciously American and another friendly darker-skinned guy.
As “where are you froms?” were passed around I learned that she was indeed American. Lydia had grown up in Chile and Ecuador where her parents had been missionaries for the Southern Baptist Convention.
“I’ve never been here for a really long time,” Lydia said. “I can’t know that it’s set in yet that I have to stay here for a whole school year. Lydia, you live here.”
After graduating early from high school, Lydia told us she had gone to visit her aunt and uncle in India where she played volleyball for six months.
Another student was from the Cayman Islands and sat listening to the conversation, throwing in a response every so often.
Suddenly, despite the band, barbecue and ball field all around me, I was the one feeling out of my element. With every word from my companions, I felt the fact that I had lived in Dallas all my life was drawn all over my face — the extent of my international travel was comprised of a short weeklong stint in British Columbia.
I was ashamed to admit that I had no idea where the Cayman Islands were, and the closest thing to volleyball in India that I had ever experienced was mistakenly renting Bollywood’s rendition of Beach Blanket Bingo.
As dinner continued, I overheard a Middle-Eastern looking man describe to another family how after graduating from SMU he’d moved to Saudi Arabia, but he wanted his kids to return to America to go to school.
“I know that in America, schools are much more well rounded in their approach,” he said, his hand on his son’s shoulder. “In Europe and in my area of the world, everything is so focused on academics.”
These students all seemed so worldly. They were as familiar with America as I wasn’t with their home countries. Outwardly, they seemed to jet across the globe for school, sports and travel taking culture differences and language barriers all in stride. Heck, I didn’t even know if their universities were structurally different from American ones.
Stewing in my own self-consciousness, I excused myself to go grab another soda from the bar. There, I ran in to Kathy Sanders, whose dad was an American who worked at the American Embassy in the Philippines, and Federico Peinetz, a Venezuelan here to study business.
As we ascertained where everyone was from, I admitted that I was actually an American and that I was already feeling a bit self-conscious about it. Kathy assured me that there was nothing to worry about.
“You know, though,” she added. “I’ve had a person here ask me if the Philippines was the capital of Arizona.”
“Yeah, someone asked me if Venezuela was somewhere in Europe,” Federico chimed in.
OK, so maybe I wasn’t that sheltered, but as I laughed with them, finished my drink and headed back toward the elevator, I left with a sense that these international students could teach us more about the world than their studies abroad at SMU would teach them.
As the elevator descended, I decided that despite my distaste for barbecue, it hadn’t been a bad dinner after all. Although the flavor of Americana was a bit overpowering, the subtle aftertaste of worldliness made the evening a recipe I’d willingly try again.
