Seeking international programs interns

IU South Bend’s international programs staff are looking for interns to promote   international education and help spread the word about the wonders of study abroad!

Volcano Arenal dominates the landscape during sunset, as seen from the Monteverde area, Costa Rica.

Interns might specialize in:
-organizing and conducting class presentations
-old media – reading newspapers and journals for interesting articles to link to our blog
-new media – creating videos or enhancing our website
-social media – enhancing our presence on our blog, Facebook, and Twitter
-international education week and other events organization
-outreach to the community
-outreach to student clubs or international students

 Ideal interns will be mature, thoughtful, reliable, and passionate about global education at IU South Bend. They will be self-starters with creative ideas about how best to promote IU South Bend international programs.

 Students can complete this internship as a course for one to three units, be paid as work-study students, or contribute as volunteers. Internships for credit will require academic components. Interested students should submit a cover letter describing relevant interests and the name of one academic reference.

 For more about international programs at IU South Bend, see our website: https://www.iusb.edu/intl-programs/ Contact Dr. Lisa Zwicker at zwicker@iusb.edu to apply.

South Bend, Indiana and Łódź, Poland

by Lisa Fetheringill Zwicker, Fulbright Scholar in Wrocław, Poland

How might the factory buildings from nineteenth century industries be used in today’s twenty-first century information age economies? The Polish city of Łódź offers a creative and compelling model, one that albeit requires significant public and private investment to succeed.

Postcard with a view of Izrael K. Poznański manufacturing plant at Ogrodowa Street, end of the nineteenth century, Łódź City Museum

South Bend, Indiana and Łódź Poland share a similar economic trajectory. They both rose to industrial importance in the second half of the nineteen century, and they both declined in the twentieth.

This picture shows Łódź before development began.

In the late 1700s, Łódź had been mostly farmland, Łódź City Museum

The two cities have the skeletons of the industrial past within their midst.

South Bend Studebaker factory in 1890 Source

The annual mid-year meeting for Fulbright students and scholars took place in 2022 in Łódź Poland, and my visit to Łódź showed me one way that beautiful architecture of the past could be re-developed for new purposes.

As part of two days of activities, students learned about the city and its past through a city tour where we spent time in factory campuses created by the Izrael Poznański and Karol Scheibler. In these places, entrepreneurs created not only vast factory spaces for spinning textiles but also built homes for workers, as well as fire stations, schools, and kindergartens.

Workers gathered in front of Karol Scheibler’s factory in Wodny Rynek (Wodny Market Square) at the end of the nineteenth century, Łódź City Museum

Our tour guide mentioned that so many of the workers’ needs were met within the network of the factory buildings that if the rest of the city of Łódź were to disappear, the workers would have barely noticed it.

As in Łódź, in South Bend, the Studebakers and the Olivers also created vast factory spaces – in their case for the carriages and cars they produced.  Like Łódź entrepreneurs, they also created workers’ homes and social services.

In Łódź, when I strolled through the beautifully restored buildings of brick, thronged with shoppers on a sunny Saturday, it felt bittersweet to think back to South Bend with its similar set of buildings full of possibility that also await the possibility of restoration.

For Łódź, finding the funds for redevelopment has taken time, and the redevelopment has not happened overnight. As Łódź was a city of 30% Jews before the Holocaust, the leaders had to wait for property rights to be determined before the city could be redeveloped. Up to 90% of Polish Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, and it was difficult to find their descendants. In the last 30 years since the fall of communism, the city has slowly begun building.

In these structures it is possible to see the beginnings of the sanding, cleaning and refining of the old brick, starting from the top of the building.

Only the top of this building has been renovated, so far

Like South Bend, Łódź, Poland is also a city with cold and gray winters and hot sticky summers. Yet like so many other European cities, there is a culture of walking and using public transportation which make developments like this much more possible. The willingness to pay taxes and to invest in public spaces also separates Europe from the United States where it is much more difficult to create a massive project like this one. I wonder if it is also a certain willingness to wait that makes the slow steady progress of a place like Łódź, possible.

I was struck that right across from the beautiful Art Museum, buildings still awaited renovation with holes in the building and graffiti.

Initial funding for the Manufaktura project came from private French investors, but European Union, Polish government, and other regional and city funds also made it possible.

Can we in the US, with so many beautiful historic buildings do something similar?

South Bend’s Studebaker buildings are just waiting…

Learning Polish Language in Wrocław

By Lisa Fetheringill Zwicker, Fulbright Scholar in Poland

On the third day of Polish class at the University of Wrocław, after our class of seven students from Guadeloupe, Belarus, Germany, Morocco, Japan, and Brazil had finished, I found my head spinning. I was so rusty after not speaking Polish for so many years, and ninety minutes of class only in Polish was a challenge. Some of my fellow students had been living in Poland for years and seemed to be following much more than I could.

Still, I wanted to be the good student.

I approached my teacher after class to ask – how should I prepare for class?

What tips did she had for me? Should I try to use note cards to memorize vocabulary? Should I buy Polish grammar books and review grammatical rules? Should I write down the lyrics to Polish songs and memorize them?  I was already meeting with a virtual coach on Verbling weekly; how could my coach best help me prepare for class and learn Polish?

Or, I thought, should I try to follow the example of my quite old-fashioned Russian teacher… I have memories of summer intensive Russian when I was an undergraduate at Berkeley and my teacher with his long grey beard expecting us the stand in front of the class and declaim the memorized Russian-language dialogue that was our homework.

The tricky grammar of Polish, (for foreigners) difficult pronunciation, for example the different forms of “sh” in “szczęśliwy” [lucky], I thought, maybe could best be mastered by trying to swallow whole sentences.

In response to my question, my teacher told me that I should go to museums, concerts, films, and performances, that I should try to immerse myself Polish culture while I am here and listen to the music of the Polish language. She had already handed out “What’s Playing” little booklets. If I really insisted on working through texts, I should try to decipher those texts as these little summaries of events were the ways that people actually spoke, but more importantly, then go to the films and performances.

June 6-22 What’s playing?

It was a culture clash.

I had approached the class wanting to learn how I could be as efficient as possible in my four months in Poland. I wanted to learn as much of the language as I could and reach my goals as fast as possible: to be able to communicate in Polish well enough for daily life in Wrocław; and to build a foundation for future study so I may be able to read Polish research on my topic on women in Wrocław/Breslau in the nineteenth century.

Now after three months here, I am still not as far along as I had hoped, but I can see clear progress. I’m following my teacher’s advice by watching Polish films and listening to Polish music, as well as my own tried and true methods of learning language using flashcards and writing and rewriting assignments.

My homemade flashcards – I haven’t been able to find them in stores!

Some of the most helpful suggestions have come from my IU colleague and Professor of Polish Lukasz Sicinski. He encouraged me to focus on vocabulary and start reading secondary sources in Polish in my field of study. He liked my idea of watching Netflix in Polish and listening to Polish music. He also encouraged me to not worry so much about grammar at this point because at my level that would interfere with being able to communicate.

Trying to learn a language in midlife has been a different experience than learning one as a college or graduate student. The new words do not pour into my brain as they had when I was younger. I seem to forget a week later the words that I had only recently memorized. It has been a challenge to feel helpless and unable to communicate. This despite the fact that Polish people in in Wrocław for the most part feel quite positively toward Americans and are usually happy to try to help me.

As I spend these four months in Wrocław and study the Jewish family the Bauers of Breslau and their descendants, I often think about those Jewish immigrants to the United States and other parts of the world in the 1930s where they were like me, trying to learn a new language in midlife – But unlike me they also faced hostility and open antisemitism. I think of my housemates from the Ukraine who are trying to learn Polish as they forge ahead with the continuing war close by.

Learning language has both such broad implications and is so specific and concrete. In this way it is both intensely personal as well as tied up into larger systems of cultures and politics.

And with that thought, I will sign off and head back to my Polish language flashcards, my Polish homework for Wednesday’s class, and a favorite Polish song, Krążę krążę, by Faustyna Maciejczuk.

Oaxaca de Juarez: Past & Present

by Adrian Pacheco, International Studies Intern 2022

When we first arrived at the airport in Santa Cruz, Xocotlan, Oaxaca, I was surprised to see a small town in a verdant valley that lacked any tall buildings or bustling highways. As we approached the city center, the buildings didn’t get any taller. What we found as we arrived at Oaxaca de Juarez ”downtown” was a quaint town full of art and artisans that expressed the city’s connection to its indigenous heritage while incorporating Spanish colonial influence at the same time.

The view from the Observatorio, Oaxaca de Juarez

The view from the Observatorio, Oaxaca de Juarez

Out of the roughly 70 indigenous groups native to the Mexican territory, 16 of them are found in Oaxaca, each with their own language and individual culture and customs. Since the arrival of the Spanish in the early 1500’s, the landscape of Mexico has seen immense change in the groups that inhabit the mountains, valleys and coasts of the country. Oaxaca exists as an example of the cultural syncretism brought about by the Spanish, it is expressed through their food, dress and especially their architecture. Much of the buildings in Oaxaca are built in a traditional Spanish style, but the food, art and traditions in the state are directly influenced by the native Zapotec communities that call the valley home.

Tlayuda de Chapulines y una Michelada

Tlayuda de Chapulines y una Michelada

It has been fascinating to take on this trip with Spanish and Anthropology students, as we get to see where modern Mexican life meets with the ancient traditions set by indigenous communities. Oaxaca is home to incredibly maintained archeological sites like Monte Alban, Mitla, and San Jose Mogote.

Ruins of Mitla, Tlacolula Valley

Hailey Hamilton on Studying Abroad in Toulon

Introduction by Lisa Zwicker, Director of International Programs

Since 2006, IU South Bend and Université de Toulon et du Var (UTV) have had a formal exchange in which students from IU South Bend study at Toulon University, and students from Toulon study on our campus. For our students, the primary goal of spending a semester or year in Toulon is to acquire proficiency in written and spoken French and cultural competence that includes a deeper understanding of the culture and history of France. IU South Bend students in Toulon take classes in French; as a result, this exchange is primarily geared toward French majors and minors. The Toulon exchange provides an ideal opportunity for students to learn from native speakers and to progress quickly toward graduation.

UTV is an urban campus of close to 10,000 students, some residential, with many commuting, and enrolls many international students. It offers programs in law, business, economics, technology, engineering, natural sciences, world languages, and humanities. The campus is situated on the eastern edge of the city of Toulon, a major port and commercial center on the French southern coast between Marseilles and Nice. With its mild Mediterranean climate, mountain backdrop, and campus of palms and large sycamores, this is a very appealing location in which to study. 

According to government data, Toulon has more sunshine per year than any other city in France: an average of 2,856 hours per year. This is largely due to the wall of mountains (Maritime Alps) that protects Toulon from weather coming from the north. Just 50 km to the east of Toulon are the beautiful French Riviera cities of Saint Tropez and Saint Raphaël. Marseille and Nice are both less than one hour by train.

Hailey writes about her year in Toulon…

French majors, minors, students proficient in French (and those who would like to be!) are invited to learn about the IU South Bend – Université de Toulon et du Var (UTV) exchange program by getting in touch with International programs director Lisa Zwicker (zwicker@iusb.edu) or Professor of French Anne Magnan-Park.

Art in the Jewish Studies Department and Beyond

by Lisa Fetheringill Zwicker, Fulbright scholar in Wrocław, Poland

“You must see the department’s art,” the Chair of the Jewish Studies Department Marcin Wodziński told me at our first meal together. After a bit of miscommunication (his original email landed in my spam folder), I found myself with Marcin and another visiting faculty member, Atsuto Anzai, as we started in Marcin’s office and then made our way through the hallways and classrooms.

The Jewish Studies department is housed in a former medieval Augustinian Monastery, a building that was later rebuilt in the early 1700s and then used as the first university library.

Home of the Jewish Studies Department, Uniwersytet Wrocławski

During the 1945 siege of Breslau, it became the headquarters for the National Socialist defense of the city. Breslau fell, in fact, four days after Berlin. Marcin shared with me that National Socialist military officials in charge of Breslau’s siege planned their strategy around the table and in the room that now serves as the department seminar room, filled with books donated by the Jewish studies and gender studies scholar Ada Rapoport-Albert (1945-2020). Fitting symbolism for a new era for the University!

The Taube Philanthropies and Koret Foundation donated funds for a complete renovation of the building, and before construction began, the department invited artists from the Eugeniusz Geppert Academy of Art and Design to construct an exhibit of paintings on the walls themselves, art that was meant to exist only for the short time before the renovation was to begin. A few pieces from that time remain in department offices as special treasures, and Marcin is considering now the best ways to display them.

The most prominent art appears along the hallways by Mira Zelechower-Aleksiun whose work displayed here brings together Jewish sacred texts with Polish history and popular culture.

These images don’t quite do justice to the size of the pieces, that can be seen below in the Jewish studies hallway

In pieces like the one below, Zelechower-Aleksiur draws together Biblical narratives of Jacob with references to twentieth century culture – the art of Bruno Schulz and a short story Ptaki (Birds) that speaks, in Zelechower-Aleksiun’s words, of “autumn, the depths of winter, and yellow nights.” 

In the main lecture hall, works of Lev Stern make reference to creation in Genesis and the division of land and water.

Marcin and Lev Stern installing paintings, photo courtesy of Monika Jaremków

Along the wall, the ten frames of paintings, in Stern’s signature style of building up layers of paint and using tools to scrape away lines or layers, suggest the ten decades of the twentieth century.

One seminar room hosts the powerful and immediate photographs of Agnieszka Traczewska whose moving images document the Hasidic community.

The collage works of Anna Szpakowska-Kujawska make reference to the Holocaust, here in her pieces in which the word “Dlaczego” [Why] repeats.

Dlaczego / Why

During our walk, I asked about presenting this valuable art in areas where they could be stolen or vandalized. I wondered out loud about the exposure of these precious pieces.

Perhaps taking such risks seem obvious and natural in a city like Wrocław where art seems to be everywhere. Along the Riverwalk outside of the University library fly the sculptures of Magdalena Abakanowicz.

Birds by Magdalena Abakanowicz.

And her playful sculptures shine outside of the National Museum

Modern buildings vie with historic ones

Murals cover the sides of buildings…

Outlined against historic buildings, even late winter trees seem spookily dramatic with their long curving branches

The role of the art in public spaces here reminds me of the ideas of Americans for the Arts that “Public art humanizes the built environment and invigorates public spaces. It provides an intersection between past, present and future, between disciplines, and between ideas.”

For the members of the Jewish Studies Department, the impact of this decision for Marcin and other department members was clear, “Putting the art on our walls created a new feeling in the department, especially for our students. It created a new sense of solemnity and purpose that you could see in the students’ faces and in their eyes as they entered this space.”

With thanks to Monika Jaremków for her help with this article.

ą ż ó ł

Reflections on living in Toulon France

by Josie Pyke, IU South Bend student taking part in the IU South Bend – Université de Toulon student exchange.

My experience in Toulon France has been amazing!

So far, in my first two months here, one of my favorite things about Toulon is the weather – like much of the rest of Southern France, it is consistently about 60 degrees Fahrenheit, of course with some days better than others. The sun is almost always shining here, which is in great contrast to Indiana.

Sunset on the Mediterranean

The number of international student here at the University of Toulon is also a wonderful part of my experience. Of course, I was expecting to meet French people, but I have met so many people from all over the world and it is exciting to think that I will have these connections. Most students I have befriended are super understanding when I must take extra time to think about speaking French.

Finally, probably my favorite part about being here is having the time to travel and see sights I have never seen before. Another student from IU South Bend and I had the chance to go to Paris on our winter break in February and it was unreal to be able to be there on our own.

A Full Moon and Notre Dame of Paris

There are even some places near Toulon that are so beautiful to be beyond words. Overall, I am incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity to be in this beautiful city for a semester. 

Uncle Mich

For Anne Magnan-Park, connecting with a place – its sheer physical commanding presence – is a process. Past, present, inherited, silenced, made-up, and dreamed-up experiences connected to that space compete in a mess of spontaneous conversations. Here, Anne reflects on her interaction with a place and an elder who may not be entirely unfamiliar to you.

Nineteenth Century French novelist Marcel Proust had tea and a madeleine to conjure up powerful, seemingly lost personal experiences in Remembrance of Things Past. What if we had collective madeleines to experience a place through multiple perspectives and time frames, inclusive of silenced narratives? As a Franco-Hoosier immigrant, I don’t indulge in madeleines, but I do have a lake. Or rather, I do stand by a lake. A lake as palpable as it is elusive. A sacred, ancient, mountainous, madeleine lake.

For the past two years, during which we have had to distance ourselves from our closest relatives residing overseas, my daughter and I have come to embrace Lake Michigan as an elder, a family member of sorts.

We call it alternatively Aunty and Uncle Mishigami – or Aunty and Uncle Mich for short — and visit regularly. In my husband’s culture, the young call their elders “aunty” and “uncle” as a sign of connection and respect. I imagine that for my daughter, Uncle Mich resembles my brother, the adventure-prone, highly protective, and avid storyteller Uncle Yéyé. Like this relative, Aunty/Uncle Mich possesses both an invigorating and a comforting presence. As you do with family members after you delight in interacting with them for a while, you grow curious about what makes them who they are and how their environment shapes them. You become aware of the mixed projections you cast onto them. They’re still family, but you start bonding with them through something more tangible than ties secured by blood or matrimony. Aunty Mich calls for more than just fun at the beach and the convenience of geographical proximity.

At first, I thought that visiting Uncle Mich in the dead of winter would shed light on a different facet of their personality. I would have them all to myself to enjoy their unadulterated crashing sounds, songs, and whispers.

I was standing by the water’s edge when a black wetsuit and its surfing board landed on the freezing water, inches away from me. Whose death-defying uncle was that? As I photographed the stranger in the wetsuit, I thought of all the ways I was not experiencing or was unwilling to experience Uncle Mich, from grazing the water’s surface in a speedboat to freestyling in pancake ice. I mused on future potential interactions such as scuba diving. Over one hundred WWII-era aircraft lie at the bottom of this lake since Aunty Mich was a little-known safe training space for Navy and Marine Corps pilots. The Navy qualified over 15.000 pilots trained on two former excursion boats turned into makeshift, lake-bound flattops: the USS Wolverine and the USS Sable. I imagine, incredulous, the peculiar sight of the only two American carriers propelled by coal and side-wheels.

Model of the USS Wolverine from the Chicago Maritime Museum

But I think I’ll leave the aircraft to my scuba-diving brother who, unlike me, enjoys everything military. I’m not sure he would take me with him anyway because the last time we dived together, I smiled uncontrollably when we fed sea urchins to a school of fish in the Mediterranean Sea. Because I have good cheeks, my smile caused my ill-adjusted mask to fill up with water. I had to go back to the surface to empty it out. I just could not help myself. But perhaps, we won’t smile so much at the sight of the invasive mussels that can filter the volume of the lake in four to six days and that have dramatically impacted its wildlife.

The one thing I know for sure is that my brother will laugh when I remind him of the only vision of Aunty Mich we were exposed to as children: the 1970s Japanese animated series Candy, Candy. The protagonist spends her childhood in Pony’s Home orphanage at the edge of Lake Michigan in the early 20th century.

Pony’s Home from the Crystal Tokyo Anime blog by

This series was hugely popular in the France of our childhood, but in the continental US, Candy Candy was released in video format in 1981. As a consequence, none of my American friends — except those who grew up in Hawaii where they had access to a dedicated Japanese TV station — share my first glimpse of Lake Michigan. This is too bad because they might get a kick out of the establishing opening shot in the pilot episode of Candy, Candy. It opens on a snow-caped view of the shores of Uncle Mich as the narrator sets the scene with this sentence, which I’m translating from the French dubbed version: “Nestled at the foot of a mountain, South of Lake Michigan, lies an old orphanage called Pony’s Home.” A what now? A mountain? When I snorkel in Uncle Mich after reading their vast and dynamic body from the top of the not-so-mountainous Warren Dunes, I confide in them: I did not come here looking for a fantasized mountain village, Lake, America. I made a commitment to learn your histories, but you don’t make that particularly easy, do you? I see makeshift flattops with sidewheels and landing decks too short and narrow where others insist on seeing majestic aircraft carriers. Perhaps, I was expecting a taller version of you, a more inclusive version of you. Some say the personal is political. The personal is a messy, multi-faceted process. It is a conversational process. I too come from a messy land of compromised Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. So, let’s keep talking. I’m listening, Lake. I’m looking.

And the water mixing past, present, fantasized, personal, and incomplete historical faces of the lake fills my mask as I swim back to shore.

Many thanks to those who have made the lake a place of joy over the years: Han, Nina, Peyton, Nathalie, Shayna, Emily, Stéphanie, Benjamin, Margot, Clara and the Park and Magnan families. Many thanks to Kyoko Takanashi for offering her translation of the opening line of the first episode of Candy, Candy in its original (Japanese) version.

First presented as a radio essay on WVPE for Michiana Chronicles. Find all of Anne’s essays on the WVPE website.

Update from Olivia in Costa Rica

From Olivia Brunner who writes from Costa Rica:

We have officially made it to our home stay families. Rhea and I are living with Antonia and Rodolfo. Communication is a bit broken at the moment, but this will be a great way to learn Spanish!

Today we started our Spanish classes as well at the Academia de Nicoya. My teacher, Diego, is very patient and helpful. I think I’ll learn a lot in these classes. After our studies, we ate a delicious buffet lunch at the academy. My favorite part was the meat dish! We then took a walking tour of Nicoya and saw some of the important landmarks, such as the church in the town square.

We had some free time this afternoon to explore the town a bit. A few other students and I walked along the streets and did some shopping. Now, we’re taking a break from the sun in our home stay houses while we wait for dinner. This evening we’ll head back to the academy for Latin dance classes. I look forward to it!

Arriving in Poland

by Lisa Fetheringill Zwicker

Landing in Poland, I was surprised to learn that during my flight the Russian invasion of the Ukraine had begun.

Ukrainian soldiers cross a destroyed bridge, an image printed in the New York Times
“Morning” newsletter March 4 Chris Mcgrath / Getty Images

I had come to Wrocław, Poland to start research for a four-month Fulbright fellowship that had already been delayed one year due to Covid. My project on the first generation of women’s activists in Wrocław between 1880 and 1930 will take me to libraries and archives throughout the region.

At least for now, I feel safe, and Fulbright program staff in Poland have assured us that we should remain in Poland. If things change swiftly, they would be ready to help us, even with an emergency evacuation.

While the crisis has not impacted my personal security, I’m seeing its repercussions around me. My mentor Professor Kamil Kijek here has decided to use part of his sabbatical to assist and has been driving refugees from the border into Silesia. The boarding house where I’m staying now hosts Ukrainian refugees; local colleagues have found work for my Ukrainian housemates and local schools for their children.

The crisis makes quite a contrast between my quiet days and the reality of the invasion of the Ukraine. The Jewish studies department is in an absolutely beautiful, renovated building. The chair of the department Marcin Wodzinski and my mentor Kamil have arranged for a lovely space for me to work.

The library I’ve been working in is stunning, and I sit reading books overlooking the Oder. 

Near Wrocław’s beautiful main square are cozy cafes and streets for strolling – I’m partial to a vegetarian restaurant, Vega. Tourists are encouraged to seek out the little dwarves that hide throughout the city.

As I’ve begun to settle in, getting to know colleagues Barbara Pendzich and the wonderfully helpful librarian Monika Jaremków, I’m mindful of the greater challenges to help refugees that they face at the same time as they answer my questions like: where was that beautiful bookstore that we visited on my first day in Wrocław? Can you order this inter-library book for me?

As residents of Wrocław and local businesses do what they can to collect materials for refugees, even making piles of sandwiches for distribution or hosting them in their homes, we too can assist in helping refugees leaving Ukraine. The best way to do that from the US is with donations, and the New York Times has highlighted four charities in particular: Direct Relief, Mercy Corps, International Medical Corps, and Save the Children.

Here is also some advice from that article, “If you decide to donate, specify that your gift go toward the conflict in Ukraine. Otherwise, your money may end up paying for a charity’s general operating expenses.” It is best to try to donate to these or other vetted causes to make sure that your donation goes to those who will do the most good.

As I sign off, I am struck by two different and conflicting emotions – gratitude for the beauty and generosity I am experiencing and grief at the war, so close and yet removed from my daily experience, at least for now.