May 19th- The end is
near/ Half way there/Start reflecting
As the end of my first year of my
two year contract is almost over and I have visions of queso and chips running
through my head. Sick, I know, to have visions of food running through my head
rather than the wonderful scene of Joshua and Dylan meeting me at the airport
with Bentley my sweet, sweet dog jumping out of their arms and greeting me with
a big, fat wet tongue right across the face. Obviously, both scenes are running
through my head but queso and chips made a much better first line and as a
writing instructor- I know it is all about first lines. It is also about last lines. I look at an essay that I wrote last summer for
a contest at Real Simple Magazine (the
magazine always puts out this essay contest once a year. As I reread the article, I think I was spot
on with my expectations. The prompt was,
“Discuss a time when you were brave.”
Here is the article- My next blog with be the reflections of the first
year overseas.
I have never
considered myself brave. Yes, I teach
high school and have gotten in the middle of a few fights in the hall; yes, I
have reared two strong-willed sons and yes, I have stood up to a few bullies;
but brave, no- not me. Yet for the last
few months, countless people after hearing what I am about to embark upon, say
how brave I am. “I wish I was as brave
as you are.” and “Oh, you are so brave. We will live vicariously through your
adventure.” have become commonplace phrases when my well wishers respond to my
news. My best friend does not hold back
and says, “Are you crazy?”. So now,
something I was extremely excited about suddenly seems scary. The power of the
word they innocently use has morphed my excitement into self-doubt and worry.
Now, I feel a need to fill a Xanax prescription or take a trip to Colorado.
However, it is too late to turn back and so with the many positive
possibilities that could come from this decision, I am just going to pray hard
and trust—myself.
I am a 51-year-old
newly retired public school teacher who is about to move to Myanmar (formally
Burma) to teach at an international high school for at least two years. Up
until a few months ago I had not even heard of Myanmar (Burma yes, but not this
newly democratic version of the once oppressive land). Myanmar is in Southeast
Asia, east of Thailand. The pictures are
beautiful; the history is daunting. Up
until a few months ago, my retirement plan was the following: enjoy my teaching position until I reach the
rule of 80 (age plus years of teaching equals retirement eligibility in Texas),
retire and then get a job teaching internationally in Europe- preferably
Italy. I would spend my days doing what
I do best- connecting with teenagers and then my nights would be spent
traveling the area discovering what the region had to offer- food, men, scenery
and a wonderful culture. My weekends would be short jaunts to other countries
much like the Hemingways and the Gertrude Steins of the “lost generation”. I would write
about the new food, the new adventures and the new men in my life (One cannot
fathom how angry I was when Under the Tuscan Sun was published and then
later, Eat, Love, Pray. These
were my books- my 5th chapter!)
But I was set on this plan, so I set out to make it happen even if I had
to change things up a bit.
My last year
of teaching was hurried. I had to give
my all to my students, but I also had to set my plan into action. I did not want to be a person who just talked
about my long-term goals; rather, I wanted to be a person who accomplished what
I set out to accomplish. So, I joined two
organizations that connected teachers who desired to teach overseas with
schools that wished to hire them; my plan A.
I started the paperwork, took the test and wrote the essays to be a
foreign diplomat; my plan B. Finally, I
linked to a newsletter that informed people how to retire overseas...”on less than $2000.00 a month!”;
my plan C. I updated my resume and tried
to get twenty nine years of teaching to two informative pages, dug through what
I call my file system but what most would call a mess, to find my college
transcript and my teaching certificate and I learned to use a scanner. I then signed up for a job fair in San
Francisco and waited for that month to arrive.
Upon arriving
at the job fair, my list of 55 schools I would consider and who had a position
of which I was qualified, quickly went down to 21 and then again down to eight.
Needless to say, none of those eight positions where even close to Europe.
Rethinking my plan, I just went for it.
I interviewed with schools in the Middle East, Asia and the islands off
of South America. Nightly, I searched the internet for information on the
countries whose news stories I scanned at best and ignored more often. The new geographic plan became “Something near
the beach.” With three offers on the table- Myanmar it is.
The friends
and family who were excited to visit me in Europe and lounge on my veranda
sipping lattes and taking Italian cooking classes had much to say about my new
plan. “You're going where?” and “Is it even safe?” were the comments that
emerged before the, “You are so brave.” comments that followed. Much like me,
most did not even know where Myanmar was let alone have a desire to travel
there. Questions I could not answer
emerged. My friend's husband, a seasoned traveler, asked about the plumbing, “Do they have western toilets?” Why would
they not have western toilets? I asked myself and then pictured what he
described in detail. Surely, I will have
a western toilet!
My two
twenty-something boys have been privy to my plan for the last ten years had
differing views. One can't wait to come
see me and the other one is worried about the distance and the old trains
(Thanks a lot Anthony Bourdain Places Unknown episode #1) that transport
people from one major area to the other, “Mom, promise me you won't get on a
train!” In terms of this goal, I do not think my kids ever thought I would do
it, but now that it is happening, they are excited and nervous at the same time
to see me take on this adventure.
The month
after accepting the position was spent researching and finding out all I could
about my soon to be new home. Reading
blogs, books and emailing back and forth with teachers currently working in
Myanmar became my nightly routine. Each step forward was followed by a step backwards
when it came to building my confidence about my decision. I soon discovered I
would drive myself crazy if I let this doubt go any further into my psyche.
So... I modified my plan.
My new goals
for this adventure became to learn to “simplify, simplify, simplify.” For years
I had my students respond the writings of Transcendentalist Henry David
Thoreau, now I was going to have my own Walden adventure. I do not want
a life “frittered away by detail”. I
will take these two years to eat healthier, unchain myself from social media
and electronics (no cell phone coverage in Myanmar) as well as be a instrument
that can be used to help this emerging democracy flourish. I will become a
cultural sponge. I will take these two
years to concentrate on being the best me I can become because for the last 26
years I have put the needs of my
children before the needs of myself (as it should be).
As I look back
on the last year and the things I have accomplished and as I look forward to
the next two years, I suppose “brave”
could be an adjective that one would use to describe it; I, however, prefer to use the word tenacious.
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