5-8 Weeks High School Community Service & Volunteering Programs

My name is Lucy, and I had the incredible opportunity and privilege to go on a Dragons trip, specifically the China Language Intensive, in the summer of ’25. I truly believe that anyone who has the chance to do a Dragon's trip should go for it. Knowing what a great privilege it was, I can say it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done, something that will stay with me forever. The program is beautiful, raw, and so full of meaning. You get to connect with people and experience life in a way you never have before, and it stays with you. It’s impossible to choose a single “favorite” part of the trip, but the homestays were definitely a highlight. In the village of Nanyao in Lijiang City (Yunnan Province), I remember meeting my homestay mom and dad and feeling slightly hesitant at first. Despite the language barrier, their hospitality and kindness needed no translation. I felt right at home almost immediately. I made lifelong friends who feel like family, and I still have all their contacts. I cherish memories of playing soccer, cooking meals, and spending time with my homestay siblings; I think about them all the time. Kunming was amazing as well, an urban homestay full of energy, busy yet organized. I loved taking the Kunming Metro every day to and from Mandarin class and Independent Study. I even learned to play a traditional Chinese instrument, the guqin. My homestay parents were so sweet. One of my favorite memories is simply making dumplings with them, talking, heading down to the back entrance of the bottom floor to see kittens just outside the complex, and sharing family meals. Our instructors on this trip in particular let us do stipend meals often, a chance to practice the language, manage foreign currency, and spend independent time with your group, whether all twelve of us went together or split into smaller ones. Everyone was inclusive because everyone wanted to be there; the group was so tight-knit. Every meal felt special, even when it was just street noodles or hot pot (my favorite). My instructors, Rosalyn, Cy, and Martina, were incredible. They made me feel supported, inspired, and seen. I learned so much from them about language and culture, but also about perspective and slowing down, appreciating absolutely everything while you’re in a place that can feel new and, at times, intimidating. I carried my Canon camera everywhere (my neck still remembers it), but I’m so glad I brought it. The photos mean everything to me now; I look back on them frequently and fondly. This trip was especially meaningful because I was adopted from China. Returning as a young adult to learn, explore, and connect felt incredibly empowering. I even turned 18 on the trip, which was really fun. One of the biggest takeaways is how it helped me feel more connected to where I come from and deeply grateful for the people who shared their lives with me. Dragons changed the way I see the world. If you can do it, you absolutely should. It’s not just a trip—it’s an experience that will change you for the better. Be eternally grateful if you get the chance to go on one.

I spent three weeks in Mombasa, Kenya completing a medical internship that combined hospital rotations with community outreach. I shadowed doctors in surgery, the labor ward, and pediatrics, gaining valuable insight into patient care and healthcare delivery in a new environment. The hands-on learning and exposure to different medical challenges broadened my perspective and strengthened my passion for medicine. Outside the hospital, our community outreach work showed me how education can make a lasting impact in the lives of others. The accommodations were comfortable, and I especially enjoyed the local food—like the chicken dishes and chapati quickly became my favorites. When I was young, the doctor’s office was one of my least favorite places to be. I hated the smell of antiseptic wipes, the crinkle of the exam table paper, and especially the sharp sting of shots. If someone had told my childhood self that eight years later I would spend my summer in an East African hospital, shadowing doctors, observing surgeries, and rushing from ward to ward, I would have laughed and run in the opposite direction. But my fear of healthcare did not last forever. As I grew older, the very things that once scared me began to fascinate me: how the body works, how diseases disrupt it, and how doctors step in to restore balance. That curiosity is what caused me to apply for an internship with International Medical Aid and board a plane alone to a very unfamiliar location: Mombasa, Kenya. After interning in a hospital in San Ramon, California for a year, I thought I knew what to expect from my experience with International Medical Aid. I would be rotating through obstetrics, surgery and pediatrics. Also, because I have traveled in a handful of developing counties, I thought I knew what to expect from the environment around me. However, nothing could have prepared me for the totality of the experience in Mombasa. The city was chaotic, with crowded streets, blaring horns, and a humid air with the lingering smell of cooking fires and burning trash. A constant reminder that life here moved quickly and under challenging conditions. I was initially overwhelmed. Looking back, this experience has profoundly changed me. It enabled me to make a real difference in another human being’s life. Beyond a single patient’s case, the experience ignited my interest in global public health because I witnessed firsthand the disparities in healthcare delivery in such a resource-limited setting. I will never forget the day I observed an emergency C-section. Although Kenya is not among the top 10 African countries with the highest maternal mortality rates, it continues to experience a high maternal mortality (OD AWE 2023). In 2015, Kenya’s maternal mortality rate was 510 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births (Muthee R 2025). This is an exceedingly high number when compared, for instance, to the US maternal mortality rate of 17 per 100,000 live births in 2023 (WHO 2025). That day at Coast General, the mom was in distress, lying on her side in pain because she had been in labor for hours, and everyone in the room was tense. When the doctor finally delivered the baby, I felt such relief when I heard the first cry. But then, everything changed as the baby stopped crying and became limp, not showing any of the normal reflexes babies usually have. I kept waiting for someone to do something fast to address the situation, but the nurse did not seem worried at all. The seconds seem to drag on like minutes. The nurse moved slowly, cleaning the instruments like nothing was wrong. My heart raced. I knew the baby was not breathing, and I could not just stand there, so Dani and I gently but urgently tried to stimulate the baby’s body, which did not open the baby's airway. I spoke up and asked if they could suction the baby’s airway, and the nurse finally grabbed the bulb and cleared the mucus, and after what felt like forever, the baby gasped and started to cry again. I could finally breathe, too. That moment shook me. In a hospital back home, a whole team would have rushed in right away. But here, with fewer resources and a calmer attitude toward emergencies, things moved more slowly. The nurse was operating in an environment that was under-staffed and to her the baby’s status was not an emergency. In that moment, I felt I witnessed a situation that teetered on the edge of life and death. Responding to my perception of an emergency, I also learned that even as a student, I have a voice, and using it can make a difference. I believe it is crucial to act quickly when someone’s life is at risk, regardless of where the emergency takes place. As I reflect back on this moment, however, I can see that “less” does not necessarily mean “worse.” It means using the tools around you to the best of your abilities. In this case, for the busy nurse, that included relying on the two interns to try to revive the newborn. After that moment in the operating room, I started paying closer attention not only to individual cases, but to the entire healthcare system around me. Working at Coast General gave me an unfiltered view of what it means to practice medicine in a public hospital in Kenya. The wards were crowded, sometimes with 70 patients in one large room, and just a couple of nurses caring for everyone. Each morning, before even entering the wards, lines of patients waited in areas overflowing with people, and many of them had been waiting since dawn. It looked very different from hospitals at home, where there is privacy, access to technology, and a sufficient number of staff. Even though the doctors were working with so little, they were incredible. They cared about their patients and took time to explain things to us students. They were patient teachers, despite being clearly exhausted. When the doctor could not do well, it was not because they did not care, but rather because they lacked sufficient resources, staff, or equipment. Or the patient came in too late in the evolution of a disease process. Sometimes doctors had to make hard choices about which patients to treat first because there simply was not enough time or supplies for everyone. My experience in Kenya taught me that healthcare outcomes are not purely just about medicine and physician expertise, but also about systems, access, and resources. I saw how strong clinical skills mattered more without advanced technology to rely on. And I learned how important it is to speak up when something feels wrong, even as a student. My internship with International Medical Aid was more than just a learning experience, it was a life-changing journey. I came to Kenya eager to observe medicine in action and care for people, but I left with so much more: a deeper understanding of health inequities, a stronger sense of compassion and independence, and a clearer vision for my future career. In the developing world, healthcare, I learned, is not just about curing disease; the human being, who has come into the clinic for help, has a particular life story and background that is relevant to their reason for being there. Their treatment is embedded within a complex health care delivery system with its own limitations. In a developing country, what I witnessed is that delivering healthcare means working to create the best outcome possible for that patient. I will continue to carry the lessons of Mombasa with me into every classroom I sit in, every patient I meet, and every decision I will make as a future healthcare professional. Through this experience, I learned that fear can evolve into passion, challenges can lead to growth, and even the smallest acts of care can change or even save another person’s life. Most importantly, this journey showed me that medicine is not just a career, it is a calling to help people who need it most in the worst or hardest moments of their lives. And it has shown me how great the need is in other parts of the world.