“What do you Like about America?”

Today I found myself in several 9th grade classrooms in Nykoping, Sweden. It’s a small town, population 32,759, about 45 minutes before Stockholm. My best friend from University is an English Teacher here, and a native to Nykoping.

This is my first stop on my journey and she wanted to bring me to her classrooms to give the students the experience of meeting and conversing with an American.

I was asked many questions by bright, bubbly, very articulate 15 year olds, who spoke ridiculously good English despite their protests of not knowing how. This was not like being in my 9th grade French class. Being in that school environment however, felt familiar on the surface, as did walking around the green and lovely town of Nykoping.

Some questions they asked were easy and required little to no thinking, but others stumped me at first, and many have made me pause. One of the most surprisingly difficult ones was:

“What is it like living in America? What do you like better, Sweden or America?”

I had no idea where to start. How does one accurately begin to describe their own home country without jumping into a bunch of cliches or superficially nice descriptions? How was I to accurately compare it to Sweden when I’d never lived here, and from what I’d seen in three days, we weren’t so different besides the unreadable road signs.

I scrambled for a response that felt genuine, but as an American who is voluntarily leaving the country to see what else is out there and who has been unable to ignore or understand the political divide broadcasted on every newspaper, I struggled for kind words at first.

It’s easy for me to launch into political tirades, or explain different sub-cultures and states but the tiny details of how we live our lives in America that result in the people who make up our country don’t even register as different without some reflection, and are certainly things I take for granted. 

Sweden is one of the top countries in the world in just about every category you can have. They appear to have things relatively figured out here on paper. And yet they still have problems and political conflict just like ours. They also have hordes of students dreaming of life in America. At least one student in every group expressed how much they wanted to go study in America.

“Is it really like the movies?!”

When you live in America you don’t realize how deeply other countries are absorbing an image of your country. Many students asked if high school was like what they saw on TV. I immediately thought about The O.C. and One Tree Hill and clarified- no, the shows are so dramatic, assuming that is what they were talking about.

When I started describing some basic aspects of high school, that yes we have cheerleaders, jocks, keggars and prom, the students were shocked and excited. I embarrassingly didn’t even realize these were differences for us. Maybe high school was like the movies if that’s what we were talking about.

The school was sparkling clean and brand new- students weren’t allowed to wear outdoor shoes inside. Although students definitely had their own groups, I didn’t witness any major conflict in the hallways or classroom besides usual rowdiness. The cafeteria food was more than edible- it was actually good and they had plenty of vegetarian options. The staff seemed very involved and my friend, well, she was definitely a loved and trusted mentor to an overwhelming amount of students. Things looked pretty good to me, and yet as one student put it,

“I’d rather have a dirty school if I got to have prom!”

My high school was big, old, somewhat run down- and it was one of the nicest Portland Public Schools. We had a serious drug problem that was viewed as normal and skipping class was second nature when you could walk outside right to downtown. Kids were mean, kids were nice. You got bullied horribly, and you also found your own clique of people.

As torturous as it felt, and as weird and different as I felt I still managed to have loads of friends from a wide range of groups and backgrounds. I never spoke to a teacher as openly and honestly as the students spoke to my friend, and I would never have dreamed that the administration cared at all about me. But yes, we had prom. And yes, we had cheerleaders. And sports. And off campus lunch. And crazy parties. And drama. And yes, we were in America.

Everywhere around me I am struck by how sweet and educated people are in Nykoping. It is one small town and hardly a representation of Sweden (it is very different than the cities) but the community values stand out, as does the unavoidable flip side: sameness. Similar style, similar apartments, similar buildings, similar aesthetic. Everything is lovely, most things are clean and taken care of.

I think for the first time I really understood what we mean when we say, “In America you get to be who you want to be.” Whether or not that is positive or negative. We might not be able to become who we want to be like everyone likes to say but we certainly do let our freak flags fly as much as we can, whenever we can. With differences comes deep conflict, clashing, divide, but it also creates new, exciting, intoxicating life.

For me the loud, lively, freedom of America is the norm, my sameness, but for them it’s their dream. For me, their community, togetherness, and support is something I dream of. Is it possible to have both?

When I walked around the school today my presence certainly created a reaction, kids gawked, everyone wanted to talk despite being nervous. This was probably due to it being a small town, but maybe high schoolers all over might feel that way. I think about back home, in the cities, where we seem unfazed by anything, only interested in ourselves.

“Is this the American?”

What does that really mean to me, to us, to be “the American?”

I don’t know how to sum up why I like America. I can’t pinpoint what are the real day to day differences here that have created different lives for us. 

It often feels like how I felt today, why are people so fascinated by Americans? What part of that image and ideal that has been broadcasted and forced across the world is really a reflection of America and what is simply propaganda? How much of our differences are really different versus just created?

I don’t feel so different, so strange, so foreign, walking around Sweden but to many of them, that’s what I am. Just like to many of us, that’s what they are.