Among Peace Corps volunteers, we often say our service is “the toughest job you’ll ever love.” At 18, however, I couldn’t grasp this sentiment; I was too focused on escaping my responsibilities to understand the profound journey ahead. It was the summer before my senior year of college, and I felt the pressure to go to law school — a goal I had pursued my whole life. Having graduated high school with an associate degree through dual enrollment and spent just two years “finding myself” at college, I knew I wasn’t ready for that next chapter. Then I discovered the Peace Corps and immediately knew I would serve.
In hindsight, I was naive and overzealous; the possibility of rejection didn’t even cross my mind. When I told my parents about my application, they were skeptical. Both had served in the U.S. Navy, so they understood life in resource-limited places. My family, Haitian immigrants, questioned why I would abandon a life they had worked so hard to build in a country full of comfort and security that had been generations in the making. Admittedly, I hadn’t thought through the practicalities of living in one of the poorest countries in the world, but that was probably fortunate. Otherwise, I might have missed out on the best experience of my life.
It didn’t take long for me to understand what “the toughest job you’ll ever love” truly meant. I lived each day at the edge of my comfort zone, facing challenges I had never anticipated. As the first volunteer in my community, I felt the weight of expectations. For the first time, I had to defend my Americanness as a Black American in Malawi, Africa, while also taking on the role of a teacher responsible for my students’ education in a large class with limited resources. I struggled with the extroverted nature of my new community, feeling the spotlight on me constantly, and I often felt overwhelmed, as I hadn’t yet learned how to laugh at myself. This was my first “real” job, and I was living alone, far from family and familiar comforts. These challenges sometimes brought me to tears, but they also made me acutely aware of my own growth.
A turning point came when my Muslim community invited me to my first funeral. It was a humbling moment that made me realize I was squandering the privilege of this unique opportunity. I resolved to fully embrace my service, understanding that time was fleeting — “The days are long, but the weeks are short,” as we like to say. I began to let go of my frustrations, focusing instead on the connections and experiences right outside my door.
One memorable experience occurred during the rainy season eight months into service when my roof began to leak. Frustrated and slightly cranky, I vented to my principal through tears. That same day, I walked into class feeling defeated after grading essays and struggling to engage over 100 ninth graders in a cramped room with too few books. Remembering how I learned grammar through catchy jingles and knowing Malawians loved to sing, I wrote the lyrics on the board, hoping my chalk would hold out. When I turned around, I faced a mix of confusion and amusement, but I sang the jingle in call-and-response anyway. Soon, they joined in, and by the end of class, we were all laughing. Hearing them sing as they left gave me a sense of accomplishment like no other.
When I came home from school, I was still riding high on my first “teacher win” only to find a community member repairing my roof. Embarrassed remembering my earlier complaints, I learned a valuable lesson about gratitude and community. My Peace Corps experience became a defining chapter in my life, teaching me resilience, connection and the profound joy of service. I believe it has made me a better person. For the first time, I felt truly present in my own life because of service. I now have greater confidence in both my professional abilities and my personal identity. This experience has sparked a desire in me to explore more of the world and its rich diversity, and the realization that I may not even be a footnote in the book of life excites me.
Today, I'm in my final year of law school at UF and the university’s Peace Corps recruiter. If you want to learn more, visit me in the International Center or email peacecorps@ufic.ufl.edu.
Dani Arnwine is a UF law school student and Peace Corps recruiter.
