Since my arrival in Omaha, Nebraska, just three weeks ago, after spending a year as a Fulbright Senior Scholar at the University of Leipzig, I have noticed a huge disconnect between how others see me and how I feel about myself. To the many friends, colleagues, and students I’ve been meeting since my return, I appear much the same as when I left: same haircut, same style of clothes, same glasses, same voice, and so forth. For most of them, a brief conversation beginning with the question, “So, how was your year in Germany?” is enough to put a decisive end to that experience; after a few sentences the other person usually turns to talking about who has moved into or out of the neighborhood, asking whether I will be joining this or that committee, and inquiring about what courses I might be offering next semester. Clearly, they expect (and, I think, hope) that because I look the same, I will also return to acting the same way that I did before I left. For these people, my year in Germany is already past history, something they never need inquire about again. Not too surprisingly, too, a number of people have stated to me, in large part to reassure themselves that I haven’t changed too much and that the world we inhabit together is the best, “You must be really happy to be back.”

Some friends and colleagues, to be sure, have been more understanding and have asked for greater details about my year abroad, or have asked if I am experiencing culture shock (“Yes!”); for them I am very grateful. But as I’m sure many a Fulbrighter before me has realized, it is very, very difficult to convey the great changes inside of me that came as a result of my Fulbright experience, even to the most sympathetic of listeners. Yes, I can fairly easily describe how I became much more interested in classical music (how could I avoid this, living in Leipzig, with its incredibly rich musical tradition?), what I learned about Germans’ views of the United States and of Americans, how I became relatively proficient in German, how much I learned about life in DDR times, and what I saw of the continuing friction between the former West and the former East.

All of these accomplishments gave me much greater confidence in my ability to tackle new challenges and succeed at them. Here in the U.S., I’ve already noticed that this newly-bolstered confidence is manifesting itself in a number of ways, both small and large. In both my personal and professional life, I am much more willing to break out of my old ways of doing things and try new experiences and methods, speak my mind with greater candor, and challenge ways of thinking that, one year ago, seemed quite natural. All of a sudden, it doesn’t seem so impossible for me to take a college course or make time for a lecture on a subject I’m now interested in. When I see a traffic jam on the main east-west thoroughfare in Omaha now, I ask, “Why can’t we have a better public transportation system?” When someone states, “We’ll have to get together for lunch sometime,” I get out my planner and schedule the date, instead of letting it slide like most Americans do. When the question of how instructors at my university can better meet the desires of students, I question whether this student-centered focus actually does a disservice to students by making them overly dependent on instructors’ assistance.
  
At this point I’m still unsure how this confidence fostered by my Fulbright year will manifest itself in the future, or how its effects will be received. What I do know, however, and what I hope my friends, colleagues, and students will acknowledge in the months and years ahead, is that while I might look like the same as the person who left for Germany in August 2006, I’m not – and I’m extremely glad about that.

Chuck Johanningsmeier is Professor of English at University of Nebraska at Omaha. He was a Fulbright Senior Scholar during the academic year 2006/2007 at the University of Leipzig.