Global Engagement and Cultural Exchange in Myanmar

I know we hear terms like global engagement and cultural exchange all the time. We sometimes ignore them because they seem overused and hollow. Why does a college kid need to go on a trip across the planet to learn something, when they could just read about it? That would be both faster and cheaper, right? Well, here’s the truth, global engagement and cultural exchange are the exact forces that will shape the future. Global engagement and cultural exchange are the best tools we have in forming an understanding of privilege, human rights, and becoming agents of positive change.  

A few years ago, at the University of Wyoming’s International Night, Zaw Soe shared the weight of his world with a ballroom full of strangers, like me, who had no clue what it was like to live after losing everything to war in his home of Myanmar. Zaw told us that his family, friends, and home were all caught in the midst of a brutal ongoing military coup in Myanmar. He spoke of the struggle, the desperation, and the true suffering of war. He humbly sought out help, from those of us who could.  

His vulnerable words lingered in my mind for years, gradually becoming more intense, until I could no longer ignore the truth. I had done nothing, despite being perfectly capable of helping. I claim to be a negative utilitarian, meaning that I believe, to be moral, one must minimize suffering. I wondered how I could be so disconnected from reality, that I would hear about true suffering and completely ignore it.

It turns out, I couldn't.

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Because of Zaw’s words, I set out to teach students from Myanmar. I know there are many ways one could interpret "help," but I truly believe in the transformative nature of educational opportunities. Education empowers people in a way no other form of development can because education allows for individual agency. I believe this is the best ethical foundation to offer help in any circumstance.

If an individual has agency, they can determine what suffering they experience. They also get to decide what the best solution to that is, rather than relying on fleeting donations or being told how to live by others who don’t fully understand the context. I stand by this truth, so I studied secondary education in college and have worked in education for years to be qualified to educate when the time came.  

My time finally came in May of 2024. With support from the Stewart Family Serviceship, Louisa Swain Foundation, and J.O. Willits Prize, supported by the Garber family, I left for the Thai-Burmese border. After many long days of travel, I arrived at a school for Burmese refugees carefully tucked into the trees, and a stone’s throw away from a slow river. The school itself was built and held together by sheer determination—literally. Not only had it been built by the students, the students were also the teachers.

The school was home to over a hundred children, many of whom had spent their entire lives displaced by war. The students lived on about a dollar a day. Somehow that dollar supported their food, water, shelter, clothing, educational expenses and more. That realization shook me.

During my time spent here, my students taught me more than I could ever teach them. These students, despite facing unimaginable hardships, were the most grateful 143 humans I have met in my life. Even at such young ages, the students felt so lucky to be living in a school, learning to read and write, and even getting to learn English while there. They reacted to the instability around them with a level of determination that I had never witnessed before. 

They understood the harsh reality of life without school. Education here was not learning facts or begrudgingly memorizing dates; it was about harnessing opportunities. It was about finding a voice in a world that had systematically silenced them. 

My farewell began with my students singing the first song I taught them, "You Are My Sunshine." I had originally chosen this song for its simplicity, but now, it held more meaning in each word than any other song. Before my last day, I wrote each of my students a letter, to express my genuine care, belief in, and hope for them. 

As I prepared to hand my students the letters, I was met with a line of students, letters in their hands for me, adorned with hearts, smiles, and suns, and written in the English they had been working so hard to learn. I had always thought that education was about so much more than just academic success, but that day, I felt its true impact.

I left Thailand with a renewed sense of purpose, an understanding of the deep inequalities faced by people in this world, and how education can address them. I intend to dedicate my life to service in this field. I am still learning, but I will strive to use my privilege in meaningful ways. Global engagement and cultural exchange are truly not simply means of giving students a chance to travel. They are about breaking down barriers to create a more just world.

If you are reading this as a university student, you have privileges that millions of people around the world do not. This access to education is not just a privilege; it’s a responsibility. The knowledge you gain should not be guarded or used selfishly, rather shared as a means to empower everybody.

Now, I’m not asking you to change your path and pursue a career in global education, although that would be quite good! I am, however, asking you to think critically about the privileges you hold and how you can best use them to serve those around the world who are truly suffering—like Zaw. He used his privilege and voice to share the struggles of his family and friends, and reminded me that helping others is a moral responsibility.  

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What does service look like for you?  

With love,

Jess Petri, an education enthusiast