Why Are Study Abroad Semesters Valuable for Students?

Meaning of These Programs – What Are They?

A study abroad semester is a life-changing experience – but how exactly?

Costs, Challenges, and Requirements

Nowadays, there are many foreign citizens in my country. Are they just tourists? Not quite. Today we see young people coming from abroad to various parts of our country. The reason is the global student exchange program. This program has a long history and began to develop in the 20th century. It was created to promote cultural and scientific cooperation between countries. A student exchange program allows students to temporarily study at a different university abroad. Through it, students gain knowledge and experience.

Historically, the United States was one of the first countries where such programs became popular, beginning with the Fulbright Program. One of the most well-known is the ERASMUS program – the oldest student exchange program in Europe, launched in 1987. Germany later developed its own version, with the DAAD program starting in 1925. These programs are highly popular among young people.

Experiences of Students:

Many students report positive experiences with exchange programs. Jabboraliev O., who studies at Kuala Lumpur University in Malaysia, said: “I expanded my professional experience through the exchange program. That’s why I’ve worked in many areas of my field.” This shows that exchange programs offer career benefits too.

Dilafruz, a student who studied in Japan, said: “My verbal communication improved significantly.” In particular, her ability to express herself in Japanese grew. This proves students can also benefit linguistically from exchange programs.

Advantages of Student Exchange Programs:

Exchange programs offer many benefits. Students gain new knowledge and boost their academic progress. But that’s not all. Studying abroad helps develop important personal skills, such as:

– Intercultural Competence: Students learn to understand and respect cultural differences by engaging directly with people from diverse backgrounds.

– Independence: Living in a foreign country forces students to organize daily life independently – from housing to daily routines.

– Language Skills: Constant exposure to a foreign language helps students improve their language proficiency.

– Better Career Opportunities: Employers value international experience, which signals flexibility and adaptability.

Challenges:

Of course, there are also difficulties. Many students face the following challenges when moving abroad:

– Financial Issues: Living abroad can be expensive. Students often need scholarships or part-time jobs.

– Different Education Systems: Learning methods may differ from those in the home country, requiring students to adapt.

– Cultural Differences: Adapting to new customs and traditions can be tough in a foreign country.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, student exchange programs are an excellent opportunity for young people to gain international experience, explore other cultures, and improve both academically and professionally. They help students adjust to new environments and foster mutual understanding between cultures.

During the program, students learn how to navigate life in a foreign country, speak new languages, and enhance communication skills. These experiences are valuable in today’s world and can improve future career prospects. Additionally, students form international connections that may benefit them later.

Despite the challenges, such as financial burdens, housing issues, or differences in education systems, these very obstacles help students become more independent and adaptable.

Overall, exchange programs are a key component of global education. They not only help young people expand their knowledge but also support personal growth. International exchange strengthens relationships between countries and universities. Therefore, such programs should continue to be supported so more students can benefit.

Oyatillo Jabboraliev was born in Fergana region. He is a student at Xiamen University in Malaysia.

First, a few announcements.

Konstantinos FaHs has another article published following up on his Synchronized Chaos pieces about ancient Greek myths and their continuing role in modern Hellenic culture. He’d like to share his piece in The Rhythm of Vietnam, which is a Vietnamese magazine with a mission that seems similar to our own.

Also, disabled contributor, lyric essayist, and ALS activist Katrina Byrd suffered hurricane damage to her home and seeks support to rebuild and make ends meet while she’s getting ready to move. Whatever folks can contribute will make a real difference.

Now, for our new issue: Chaos Does Not Exclude Love. The reverse of a phrase from a review of Elwin Cotman’s urban fantasy collection discussing how Cotman’s work was from a loving place yet made room for the complexity of the world. At Synchronized Chaos, we are intimately acquainted with the world’s nuance and chaos, yet we see and find room for empathy and connection.

Neven Duzevic reflects on travel memories and reconnecting with an old friend. Dr. Perwaiz Shaharyar speaks to the awesome and transformative power of romantic love. Dr. Prasanna Kumar Dalai reflects upon the intensity of romantic feelings. Duane Vorhees speaks to loneliness and heartbreak and sensuality and various forms of human-ness. Kristy Raines speaks to the beauty of love and the tragedy of heartbreak.

Harper Chan reflects on his bravado and the reality of his feelings in the past year. Mickey Corrigan’s poetry shows how psychological and cultural shifts and traumas can manifest in our bodies. Abigail George speaks to how support from friends and family and a commitment to live in the present rather than reliving old traumas can help those addicted to drugs. Alan Catlin mixes cultural memories and touchstones with personal and societal losses.

Vo Thi Nhu Mai offers up a poetic tribute to the international vision of fellow poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou. Greek poet Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews Bangladeshi poet S. Afrose on how she hopes poetry and joint exploration through literary sci-fi will obliterate the need for war. Dr. Jernail Singh laments that morality and compassion have become passe to a generation obsessed with modernity and personal success. Priyanka Neogi speaks to the beauty of carrying oneself with noble character. Maria Koulovou Roumelioti urges us to remember the world’s children and create love and peace as Anwar Rahim reminds us to live with kindness and courage.

Mykyta Ryzhykh speculates on whether love can continue to exist amidst war. Haroon Rashid pays tribute to Indian political leader Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam, who loved peace but led through strength. Christine Poythress reflects on how easy it is for a once-proud and free nation to slide into fascism simply by admiring the fascist aesthetic and its seductive power. Ahmed Miqdad renders a global tragedy in simple terms: he’s too scared to go back to his home in Gaza to water his cactus plant.

Lili Lang probes the meaning behind things that seem simple: the work of a hairdresser, a family packing up the belongings of a recently deceased grandmother.

Mahmudova Sohibaxon offers up a tribute to dependable and caring fathers. J.J. Campbell writes of the visceral love and physical work of aging and caregiving, of inhabiting an elderly and a middle-aged body. Taylor Dibbert’s poetic speaker embraces age with joy, thrilled to still be alive. Bill Tope crafts an expansive and welcoming vision of perfection that can welcome more types of people and bodies as Ambrose George urges the world to maintain an open mind towards gender roles and identities.

Leslie Lisbona pays tribute to her deceased mother by writing a letter catching her up on family news. Stephen Jarrell Williams considers endings and beginnings and the possibility of renewal. Asma’u Sulaiman speaks to being lost and then found in life. Cheng Yong’s poetry addresses ways we hide from each other and ourselves, physically and psychologically. Mahbub Alam wishes for a romantic connection that can extend and endure beyond Earth. Dibyangana’s poetry touches on love, grief, and personal metamorphosis. Mely Ratkovic writes of spiritual contemplation and the nature of good and evil. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa describes souls who turn away from greed and evil and heal, in smaller and larger ways. Christopher Bernard suggests that creativity and storytelling might play a part in what makes life worth enduring.

Brian Barbeito speculates about intention and communication with the universe. Svetlana Rostova speculates on what spirituality might mean in the face of a seemingly indifferent world. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumnova’s piece conveys spiritual ecstasy, love, and beauty.

Sandro Piedrahita’s story highlights the power of enduring and sacrificial spiritual devotion in the midst of our human-ness.

Chimezie Ihekuna engages with the talents, creativity, and limitations of being human. Dr. Jernail Anand looks at human creativity and at AI and draws a comparison, encouraging humans to continue to create. Jasmina Rashidova explores what motivates people in the workplace. Eva Petropoulou Lianou interviews Turkish poet Bahar Buke about fostering imagination and connection through her work.

Paul Durand reflects on teaching first-grade music in a time of hatred and divisiveness. Su Yun collects the thoughts and observations of a whole selection of schoolchildren in China about nature and their world.

David Sapp reflects on how he wishes to always appreciate the egrets and lilies, sailing off into nature amid the various bird voices of the wild world. Mesfakus Salahin rhapsodizes about flowers and giddy spring romance. Soumen Roy celebrates the simple joy of butterflies and tea. Sayani Mukherjee speaks of an enduring oak tree in summer. Poetry from Eva Petropoulou Lianou, translated to Italian by Maria Miraglia and Arabic by Ahmed Farooq Baidoon, celebrates life lessons from nature. Liang Zhiwei reminds us of the power and vastness of nature, before and after the era of humanity. Nuraini Mohammed Usman sends up a sepia photograph of a tire hidden by a leafing young tree.

Jibril Mohammed Usman shares a photograph of a person looking into nature, at one with and part of his world, altered in the same way as the trees and house. Mark Young’s geographies play with and explore Australia from new angles, turning maps into works of art.

Jerome Berglund and Christina Chin stitch ideas and images together like clotted cream in their joint haikus. Patrick Sweeney’s two-line couplets explore a thought which ends in an unexpected way.

Odina Bahodirova argues for the relevance of philology as an academic discipline because of its role in preserving cultural wisdom encoded in language and the ability of students to understand and think critically about language. Sevinch Shukurova explores the role of code-switching as a pedagogical tool in language learning. Surayo Nosirova shares the power of an educator giving a struggling student tutoring and a second chance. Nozima Zioydilloyeva celebrates Uzbekistan’s cultural accomplishments and women’s education within her home country. Marjona Mardonova honors the history of the learned Jadid Uzbek modernizers.

Nazeem Aziz recollects Bangladeshi history and celebrates their fights for freedom and national identity. Poet Hua Ai speaks to people’s basic longings to live, to be seen and heard. Leif Ingram-Bunn speaks to hypocrisy and self-righteousness on behalf of those who would silence him, and self-assertion on his part as a wounded but brave, worthy child of God.

Z.I. Mahmud traces the mythic and the heroic from Tolkien to Harry Potter. Poet Hua Ai, interviewed by editor Cristina Deptula, also wonders about the stories we tell ourselves. She speculates through her work about what in the human condition is mandatory for survival and what is learned behavior that could be unlearned with changing times.

Synchronized Chaos contains many of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves and our world. We hope you enjoy and learn from the narrative!

This Black Crevasse of Night

In this black crevasse of night,

when every dark wing

of grackle, crow and raven

appear to take silent flight,

as if I’ve paddled into the black

waters, far from the strand of dusk,

and dawn is a distant, mythic shore,

in this dark turning of summer,

when an invisible, black heat

suckles liquid from my skin –

I’ll soon be a parched mummy –

each night a silent decay begins again;

the things of the world molder

in lightless cellar recesses.

No wonder this night is for sleep,

an escape from inevitable, vast,

dark distances between silent stars;

in this black crevasse of night,

when all is sluggish and wilting,

the strongest steel begins to rust,

brilliant colors of the day fade:

electric, yellow goldenrod,

violets of thistle and clover,

the patinas of green, dulled

like tarnished copper roofs,

the jewel of Queen Anne’s lace,

a clouded ruby eye.

In this black crevasse of night,

the dew silently settles on webs

and grasses; not until morning

will I applaud the dark spiders,

quick trapeze acrobats,

under silvery circus tents.

Only the frogs’, the crickets’

and the few, remaining cicadas’

crooning is raucous in the silence,

in cattail and dark, bulrush speakeasies;

they sing for fleeting pleasure

in the few nights before the frost.

2024 Fall

Leave it in the air

My fear

Warn myself to be aware

Of the veneer

Of the seemingly clear

Leave me there

Ditch all the flare

But I was given no flair

To tame a bear

It lost an ear

A long blare

A long glare

At me who’s near

And dare

12th Nov. 2024

I wrote reams

Reams of slips

To you just piles

Of utter nonsense

Spearheaded in this cold war

I’m back with

A wounded Soul

Gigantic hole

Bullets shot through me

No more

Not valiant soldier

No affinity for

A purple heart

Now even your heart

Thumps for me not

Home where

And how?

Founded in a trench

Failed to stanch

Haemorrhaging

Bird Light Day Night,

-from,

The New Springtime Journals, Prose Poems and Pictures 

(for Tara)

Rya, R-eee-ya, R-iii-ya, goes the bird and it’s night when that occurred and the bird is unseen. There are soft lights in the real reality indoors. Love and friendship also, plus literature,- stacks of books. Papers and pens. 

Before, it was morning, and the sun ascended and the earth was warm if a little damp. Reading quickly through Rimbaud’s life and times. The diviner listened to, said a bird would fly overhead. A slightly larger than normal bird. This happened. And there was a large tree and winding paths, hills that went quietly up and then standing on the summit one could see far and far,- distant buildings and more hills,- trees. I watched the thawed and therefore flowing river, and the closer I went the louder and more wonderful it was. Morning, afternoon, dusk, and night. These things and the things within them. Airplanes and clouds in the sky. Spring. The new springtime. The springtime poems from springtime journals. Messages. Letters. Many words. 

A ring. I had lost a ring. Looked for it for weeks. Then I let it go for a while. When this night arrived I sat in silence and it came to me…the ring is on a bookshelf. I didn’t know exactly where but that was the message. From spirit or from the higher self or internal knowledge or something. I got up. Turned on lights. Stood before the shelf. Saw a small box. Opened it. There was a picture of Jesus Christ and a small medallion also, and some jewellery. There, amidst all that, was the missing ring. I put it on my finger. I had tried it on at a carnival once, the night fairgrounds of electric eclectic wondrous lights, vendors, music, scents wafting through the nocturne. Distant firecrackers of the firmament. Metropolis of summer. Scenes. Life. Streets. Cars. People. So many people moving about. The vendor: ‘It fits well.’ Me: ‘Yes.’ Memory. The beloved. Brown eyes and dimples, slight blonde streaks in her dark brown hair. Lovely. She doesn’t wear earrings but has been of late,- this year. She is pretty. Naturally pretty. A good soul. Wise. Strong. Honest. Reliable. From the South. Virginia. 

We look around at the carnival night. Before and after ride buses, trains, and in a car. Fine. Summer evening. Make memories. Hold hands. Talk. You know how it goes. Everyone has a story as they say. 

Back to now: pears and strawberries. Literary biography. Dreams. Good dreams and some bad dreams. But far less bad dreams than before. Almost a whole day without writing prose poems. For reading. For finishing a book I was into. Carson McCullers. A biography. Hmm. Pastel green duvet. We share chocolate the brown haired one and I. A fan whirls. The fields are out there, to be walked in and through, tomorrow morning again. Birds. And window sills here. Silence. Glass. Fences. Cleaning things. Wondering about the future. Aruba. Planes. Places. Beaches. Pools. Short walks. Longer walks. What will be there? Pictures and poems from the parapets and by the promenades of life. hopefully. Take it easy. The world needs less ambitious people anyhow. There should be a district for daydreamers, a mountain for magic, an arena for artists, a shrine for seers, a beach for believers, an applause and clause for the apolitical, a placid pool for poets…

There is a story I wrote about a blue crocheted heart and a small metal heart was found while looking for that ring. A diviner said: ‘Someone out there can hear this message- a blue heart I am seeing. Strange. Hearts are usually red. But this is blue. That message is for someone in the collective…’

Later I’ll step outside. Maybe the night birds will be there somewhere in the distance. A-r-iy a. Ryiiia. That’s what they seem to say. Loquacious if anything. It’s spring. I guess they are taking to their friends. Everyone communicates in their own way. The birds sing those strange songs. The architect makes a rendering. The mechanic repairs the engine. The train conductor sounds a whistle. A teacher makes a rubric. The novelist, an outline first usually. The poet the poem. The mystic creates themselves a new, with God. 

——

Choke 

Sometimes, I get that pain again

Choke with deeply desired gain

Drown helpless under torrid rain

Life shackled, mind empty drain

You care much, heart’s in strain

Offer heaven, but hands in chain

Filled up to squeezing tight brain

Forget the balance you did train

Wishing power not just for vain

The love for family is the main

Resetting desire to normal plain

Release, reality again explain.

Fidelity

Fiery red droplets of your blood

See how they warm my frozen heart

On the Greek’s golden fleece, they flood

Passions never to fall apart

Beelzebub has curdled your blood

Death and Chaos have torn your heart

The golden fleece, dark clouds did flood

Misery’s broken us apart

Let Courage flow free in your blood

Let Love reside inside your heart

Let Hope drown your despair in flood

Let Trust reunite what’s apart

Fiery red droplets of my blood

See how they heal your broken heart

Siris’ juice, Zeus’ feast shall flood Jericho’s wall, we tore apart

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa was born January 14, 1965, in Manila Philippines. She has worked as a retired Language Instructor, interpreter, caregiver, secretary, product promotion employee, and private therapeutic masseur. Her works have been published as poems and short story anthologies in several language translations for e-magazines, monthly magazines, and books; poems for cause anthologies in a Zimbabwean newspaper; a feature article in a Philippine newspaper; and had her works posted on different poetry web and blog sites. She has been writing poems since childhood but started on Facebook only in 2014. For her, Poetry is life and life is poetry.

Lilian Kunimasa considers herself a student/teacher with the duty to learn, inspire, guide, and motivate others to contribute to changing what is seen as normal into a better world than when she steps into it. She has always considered life as an endless journey, searching for new goals, and challenges and how she can in small ways make a difference in every path she takes. She sees humanity as one family where each one must support the other and considers poets as a voice for Truth in pursuit of Equality and proper Stewardship of nature despite the hindrances of distorted information and traditions.

At This Point

His gray hair

Is really arriving

On the scene

But who cares

He’s thrilled

To have hair

At this point.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “Takoma.”