Time to whip out your seasonal, rhinestone-encrusted jorts, everyone—it’s almost spring break. Some of us are staying on campus while others are going home to make sure their parents didn’t accidentally forget about them (at least, that was my intention). Some students are taking advantage of the week to go on a spring break service trip.

This spring break will mark the first time in four years that I’m not going on a service trip. During my last two years of high school and my freshman year of college, I went on service trips with Habitat for Humanity—two in St. Louis and one in West Virginia. Despite the fact that I’m not going on a trip this year, I’m still planning our campus Habitat for Humanity chapter’s service trip to Oklahoma. I’m excited for the students going on it, especially those going for the first time.

First-timers don’t always know to expect on these trips, and much of their knowledge relies on preconceived notions of service where “nice people” do “nice things” for “the less fortunate.” Considering the fact that I scream at inanimate objects if they look at me funny, I cringe at the thought of being called a “nice person.” All jokes aside, it isn’t about simply walking in, hammering a few nails into a wall, feeling good about yourself and going home.

Domestic service trips are great. Going into an area within the country gives you the benefit of actually communicating with residents without a language barrier and, to a large extent, sharing an established set of cultural norms with the community you’re working in. Plus, your mother can still call you 17 times a day to ask you if you’re alive and remind you not to take narcotics from strangers (thanks, Mom!). It is crucial, however, to remember that you are still an outsider entering a community. It’s important that your mindset, behavior and attitude reflect this when you’re there.

Going into the trip, remember your place; you are a stranger here. Even though you’re volunteering in a “place that needs it,” it does not make you superior. You’re not there because you’re better than those you’re serving and you need to save people who can’t save themselves.

I know it seems shocking that people going on a service trip would have this “us vs. them” hierarchy going on in their head, but you’d be surprised at how implicit a reaction it can be. Even though your hosts will be appreciative that you’re taking the time to be there, this service trip is mostly accommodating your desire to do service work—they’re preparing things for you to do, they’re giving you a place in their community and they’re welcoming of your curiosity.

That being said, take the opportunity to branch out. It might be easy to stick to talking to your group members, but there’s so much to learn when you talk to people who actually live there. Listen to people’s stories and learn about the local culture. Talk to the neighbors, the people at the church, the people you’re volunteering for/with—hear what they have to say about themselves and what they want you to know. You are a vehicle of experience; your job is to digest these stories and carry them back with you.

And then there’s this: the reality that you might not feel “good about yourself” after doing service work. Listening to people’s stories and understanding the circumstances of the location might just make you confused, powerless and angry. You might be frustrated at the fact that you don’t feel like your work is accomplishing anything. You might help build a porch and think, “What’s the point if I can’t change anything here?” In my experience, service trips have often made me feel powerless. And a little angry. And that’s OK. Honestly, I think service trips are mostly about getting angry.

Before you start swinging a hammer in my face in the name of rage, let me explain. The purpose, at least for me, of going on a service trip is not to “help save the less fortunate” for a week. It’s about becoming aware of the injustices going on around you and deciding that you’re not OK with that. The frustration and anger fuels the motivation to continue caring once you leave, to try to make an effort even when you come back home.