I'm debating about how honest I'm going to be with this blog. I've really gotten into The Bloggess, and her sassy humor, and I think, I could do that. I've actually been compared to her, albeit by someone I consider a 10 on the sassy scale of 1 being "are you dead?" and 10 being, "get the fuck out, no, really, GET.THE.FUCK.OUT!"But then, there's that sweet side of me.
Really, there is a sweet side of me. The inside. (Awwww. See?)
But, I really don't like being all "these are life lessons" and shit. I'm really not the kind of person to want to connect my writing to greater works of art, by writers much more brilliant than myself like Rumi, or Coehlo, or, maybe, God. I just want to write, and write about the things that matter right now. And I've heard enough over the past couple of months to really tell you something, and have you agree with me. And that is, at 40, we just don't have our shit together. And if you think you do, and you like to read other people's Facebook posts and have a good chuckle at their lack of got-shit-togetherness, well, f-off. This isn't the place for you.
I will tell you this- I've finally at least gotten all my shit piled up in the same general area. That's a lot to claim, considering a few months ago I thought I was going to lose my mind. You know that feeling that you're living the wrong life, and that you need that chord that says "STOP THIS THING NOW!" so you can apologize to those around you as you try not to crush their toes as you go screaming to the doors to get out? Yeh. That was me.
And now I'm in this place that seems way too good to be true. I had to ask my sister on the phone tonight if I'd actually died, and people were just too nice to actually tell me this little tidbit of info. This seems like the place I'd go in between eternity and life's burdens. It's actually the perfect place to sit with a cigarette you really don't want to smoke in the first place but feel like you should, because you're finally alone on the patio with a bottle of wine and that's when ciggies are the best. But then, you realize, you now feel sick to your stomach and really REALLY don't want to be smoking, and it makes you wonder, who am I trying to be now anyway?
So that's really the question. At 40, are we still allowed to ask that question? Are we still allowed to be figuring things out, like what kind of glasses we really want to wear and what kind of food do we like to eat, or should that have been determined in our 20s? Because I'm pretty sure in my 20s I was asking the same questions, and then, I guess, just got distracted. For about 15 years.
But now I find myself a little disgusted with myself for not knowing that I am not, once and for all, even a casual once-in-a-few-months smoker, even when it seems like it would be the cool thing to do.
So, I've decided that I want to at least be honest if I'm going to keep up blogging. I'm going to use words like "fuck" and "shit," for sure, because I use them almost on a daily basis anyway. And I'm going to ask really tough questions, like, "what's this smell coming from the fishtank, and where is the fish, anyway?" (more on Moby some other time, but he's definately blogging material).
And if no one ends up reading it, then that's ok. And if people get offended, then I'd have to wonder how you made it all the way to this part of my blog in the first place if you are (or actually, how it is you even know me). And so it is. The new Intrepid Educator.
Boldly going where actually, quite a few women have gone before, and are still going, in order to express their actual honest opinions that divorce can be liberating, the world is a divine creation with endless things to catch your imagination, and smoking on your patio at night with a bottle of wine is way.way.way overrated.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
"It's complicated"
For all it's faults, Facebook got one thing right, and that is to add the option of "It's Complicated" to our list of choices for being in, out, or somewhat around relationships. I just changed my status tonight, after almost a month of living alone with the kids. I think to some, it begged the obvious question a few months ago even when I started posting about the epic changes in my life and mentioned just the kids were coming with me. The reality is, Adam and I have separated. It's been in the works since January, official since March, and now a reality since August.
I know where we will be one day, which is divorced and living in separated residences, but I don't know how we will get there legally, or when. I just know that for now, I did the only thing I really needed to, and that was leave. More poetically, I set out to create an environment in which I could be a single mom without going completely underwater while trying to make ends meet, schedules coincide, and watch as the kids drifted away from Adam. It might seem counter intuitive that I took the kids to Thailand in my attempt to preserve their relationship with Adam, but that's because you've got to know Adam. By bringing them here, they are learning the language, the culture, and the names of all 1,000 people in their family here. They will some day be able to visit their dad here, when he retires out here in the next decade or so, and be completely at home in their second country.
More over, I've noticed that he spends more quality time talking to the kids a few nights a week on Skype than he did in months on end when we were all under the same roof.
I'm not going to go into the reasons why we're splitting, or try to convince anyone that it's the right thing to do. If you know, you know. If you don't, it doesn't matter. You know what these things entail, anyway. It's not like we go lightly into these things in whimsical ways. Or at least, I didn't.
I anticipate some complications, but so far, Adam has been completely amenable to our move here. He misses his children, but I think he appreciates his time to legitimately climb inside his head and be left alone. As for us, the kids have never had such a technicolor life than they are living here. We have the opportunity and finances to do things we've only talked about before, such as stay at a resort on an island or even, simply, go bowling. Our time together has gone from hectic, frantic and scattered to purposeful, meaningful, and peaceful (well, mostly, can't say we never lose our tempers....). I think I've gained 10 years back to my natural lifespan, and intend to make those 10 years count.
So, "it's complicated," really just means, "we're done, but not yet final." "It's complicated" also means, I'm coming to terms with it and am now ready to let everyone know that life doesn't offer a compass for complex navigation. Understanding and support are much appreciated.
I know where we will be one day, which is divorced and living in separated residences, but I don't know how we will get there legally, or when. I just know that for now, I did the only thing I really needed to, and that was leave. More poetically, I set out to create an environment in which I could be a single mom without going completely underwater while trying to make ends meet, schedules coincide, and watch as the kids drifted away from Adam. It might seem counter intuitive that I took the kids to Thailand in my attempt to preserve their relationship with Adam, but that's because you've got to know Adam. By bringing them here, they are learning the language, the culture, and the names of all 1,000 people in their family here. They will some day be able to visit their dad here, when he retires out here in the next decade or so, and be completely at home in their second country.
More over, I've noticed that he spends more quality time talking to the kids a few nights a week on Skype than he did in months on end when we were all under the same roof.
I'm not going to go into the reasons why we're splitting, or try to convince anyone that it's the right thing to do. If you know, you know. If you don't, it doesn't matter. You know what these things entail, anyway. It's not like we go lightly into these things in whimsical ways. Or at least, I didn't.
I anticipate some complications, but so far, Adam has been completely amenable to our move here. He misses his children, but I think he appreciates his time to legitimately climb inside his head and be left alone. As for us, the kids have never had such a technicolor life than they are living here. We have the opportunity and finances to do things we've only talked about before, such as stay at a resort on an island or even, simply, go bowling. Our time together has gone from hectic, frantic and scattered to purposeful, meaningful, and peaceful (well, mostly, can't say we never lose our tempers....). I think I've gained 10 years back to my natural lifespan, and intend to make those 10 years count.
So, "it's complicated," really just means, "we're done, but not yet final." "It's complicated" also means, I'm coming to terms with it and am now ready to let everyone know that life doesn't offer a compass for complex navigation. Understanding and support are much appreciated.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
There are no smiling assholes in Thailand
There is a reason why Thailand is called the Land of Smiles. It's because everyone smiles, except the King. And assholes. And since I know what the King looks like, that combined with the fact that he is so not an asshole and doesn't drive taxis, I have now decided I will not go with any taxi driver who doesn't smile. Because they're an asshole. Doesn't matter if they are a motorcycle taxi or a traditional taxi car, life is too short to go anywhere with assholes, much less pay them for the time you spend with them.
The other night, I took the kids on a long walk and as a treat, got them fruit smoothies. I had asked a guard to please radio the gang of motorcycle taxi drivers outside Farang Village so that we could have a ride back, both because the kids were whining and because there was an impending monsoon downpour. Two men showed up and had to wait perhaps 4 minutes for us to finish paying and make our way over to them. With Talia, that could take longer than just a few adult steps. I watched as one smiled at her, the other checked his watch and loudly complained when I confirmed that the price was 30 baht to get to our home. He said something about waiting forever for us. I asked him not to yell in front of my children, and that if he didn't want to take us, then he was free to ride on into the sunset. He didn't, so I let him take us home. Angry about his attitude, I paid him 30 baht and he took off, revving his engine. As for the other guy, who smiled still, I paid him 100, and thanked him profusely for being such a nice guy. He said, "no problem!" and went off, hopefully to tell his buddy that he got a 70 baht tip.
Unsatisfied with myself that I even allowed him to take us home, I swore that never again would I even do that.
I was tested just this morning. I had gone to the local hardware store to pick up some crap for the house (they were playing Christmas music...another blog for another day about the wildly inappropriate use of American music in Thailand). Laden with about 4 bags of miscellaneous but heavy things, I went to the taxi stand and took the next driver in line. Walking to his cab, I wanted to be sure he knew how to get back to Farang Village, because I sure didn't. I had heard that sometimes they'll take you down the road a bit and then ask, "so, how do we get there?" Or they drive around forever until you say, "shouldn't you take that road over there?" I thought at the time he hadn't heard me, so I repeated it twice until he turned around, frowning and snapped, "Why?"
WTF?
Because in my shock I didn't have an answer, so he repeated, "Why would you ask me that?"
Again, WTF? "Because some people don't know the way. Like me."
"Why do you think I wouldn't know the way?"
Stare down. Long five seconds. He doesn't return my smile.
"Ok. Never mind. I'm not going with you. You have a sucky attitude."
The motorcycle taxi driver about five feet away was more than happy to drive me home. I would have flipped the bird as we pulled away, but alas, my fingers were holding onto my bags and I just couldn't get it free in time.
Back in the US, when people don't smile back at you, it's not a big deal. In fact, I don't know that I approach many strangers with a smile myself. If it's business, it's business. But in Thailand, the business comes second. A smile is first. It's a way of showing that you're alright with the state of the world, that you're a nice person, or that simply and frankly, you're not an asshole. In Thailand, if you're an asshole, you're a scarey asshole. It's like everything else in Thailand that seems to be on steroids- if it's spicy, it'll hurt like hell and make your eyes pour water. If it's sweet, it is so over the top sweet that even my kids turn up their noses at whatever it is. If it's a celebration, a death, a show, a costume, a bouqet of flowers, or anything else, it's so over the top you wonder how in the world anyone has time or energy for such exaggeration. So why should assholes be any different? So when a Thai taxi driver is willing to put his or her energy into not smiling, just say, "Mai pen rai" (rough translation, fu-gedabowdit), because worse things are behind that sour face.
So, my new promise to myself- Life is just too short to go with assholes, ever.
The other night, I took the kids on a long walk and as a treat, got them fruit smoothies. I had asked a guard to please radio the gang of motorcycle taxi drivers outside Farang Village so that we could have a ride back, both because the kids were whining and because there was an impending monsoon downpour. Two men showed up and had to wait perhaps 4 minutes for us to finish paying and make our way over to them. With Talia, that could take longer than just a few adult steps. I watched as one smiled at her, the other checked his watch and loudly complained when I confirmed that the price was 30 baht to get to our home. He said something about waiting forever for us. I asked him not to yell in front of my children, and that if he didn't want to take us, then he was free to ride on into the sunset. He didn't, so I let him take us home. Angry about his attitude, I paid him 30 baht and he took off, revving his engine. As for the other guy, who smiled still, I paid him 100, and thanked him profusely for being such a nice guy. He said, "no problem!" and went off, hopefully to tell his buddy that he got a 70 baht tip.
Unsatisfied with myself that I even allowed him to take us home, I swore that never again would I even do that.
I was tested just this morning. I had gone to the local hardware store to pick up some crap for the house (they were playing Christmas music...another blog for another day about the wildly inappropriate use of American music in Thailand). Laden with about 4 bags of miscellaneous but heavy things, I went to the taxi stand and took the next driver in line. Walking to his cab, I wanted to be sure he knew how to get back to Farang Village, because I sure didn't. I had heard that sometimes they'll take you down the road a bit and then ask, "so, how do we get there?" Or they drive around forever until you say, "shouldn't you take that road over there?" I thought at the time he hadn't heard me, so I repeated it twice until he turned around, frowning and snapped, "Why?"
WTF?
Because in my shock I didn't have an answer, so he repeated, "Why would you ask me that?"
Again, WTF? "Because some people don't know the way. Like me."
"Why do you think I wouldn't know the way?"
Stare down. Long five seconds. He doesn't return my smile.
"Ok. Never mind. I'm not going with you. You have a sucky attitude."
The motorcycle taxi driver about five feet away was more than happy to drive me home. I would have flipped the bird as we pulled away, but alas, my fingers were holding onto my bags and I just couldn't get it free in time.
Back in the US, when people don't smile back at you, it's not a big deal. In fact, I don't know that I approach many strangers with a smile myself. If it's business, it's business. But in Thailand, the business comes second. A smile is first. It's a way of showing that you're alright with the state of the world, that you're a nice person, or that simply and frankly, you're not an asshole. In Thailand, if you're an asshole, you're a scarey asshole. It's like everything else in Thailand that seems to be on steroids- if it's spicy, it'll hurt like hell and make your eyes pour water. If it's sweet, it is so over the top sweet that even my kids turn up their noses at whatever it is. If it's a celebration, a death, a show, a costume, a bouqet of flowers, or anything else, it's so over the top you wonder how in the world anyone has time or energy for such exaggeration. So why should assholes be any different? So when a Thai taxi driver is willing to put his or her energy into not smiling, just say, "Mai pen rai" (rough translation, fu-gedabowdit), because worse things are behind that sour face.
So, my new promise to myself- Life is just too short to go with assholes, ever.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Middle Class
Sorry, everyone. See, I have totally misled you. Maybe, perhaps, at least just temporarily. But you clearly thought the blog from Thailand would be about this misplaced teacher, gingerly attempting to manage her life as a single mom in a third world country. Perhaps you thought there would be stories of weird food, comic miscommunications due to strange customs and language barriers, and so forth. You know, like the time I ate a duck's head, or had to spend the entire day (8 hours) in excruitiating boredom watching beauty pagents, without a book even, because I thought my Thai host was taking me some place entirely different. But that was 13 years ago. This is different.
See, tonight, I took the boys to a Cubs Scout recruitment meeting. In our group were three working dads who were really excited about taking their boys fishing, me, and someone's maid. Then afterwards, we went to get ourselves a smoothie down by the lake.
Now does that sound like I'm in Thailand??? Maybe if I told you I transported the boys there on a scooter, and that while we drank our smooties we counted geckos on the wall, you would believe again that I really did leave the country.
But it turns out, my blogs are turning into life as a middle class Westerner. Albeit, that is a totally different lifestyle than what I'm used to. I'm used to working two jobs to make ends meet, and would never have had time to go to a Cubs scout meeting much less recruitment meeting, much less have been able to pay for the uniform fees and outtings. I mean, how much would a weekend swimming with Dolphins cost in the US? Here, it should put us back a whole $200. For me and the three kids. Maybe less.
So the only weird food that I'm encountering so far are the european cookies on the shelf next to the oreos, and the biggest comic miscommunication has been...well, I suppose there hasn't been one. Everyone speaks English.
But this adventure is not without its ways to scrape off the superficial level of things and get to what lies beneath. I have a special relationship with the morning guard at the school, who quickly spread the word throughout the grapevine that I speak excellent Thai. So custodians, library assistants, and office workers know me by face and name and are outgoing and friendly to me as I go from place to place in the building. I benefit by finding out from there where the best fresh vegetable market is, where I can buy black beans for cheap instead of processed in the farang supermarket, and I can count on immediate help jacking up the motorscooter and jump starting it when I leave the keys in the ignition and drain the battery. (Cut me some slack. I've owned a motorscooter for 8 days. It totally throws me off that the engine quits when you put the kick stand down.)
But today I got a grandiose treat that only being in Thailand could afford. The school hosted a special Khon Performance- the traditional Thai dance, in fabulously sparkly Thai silk costumes and masks. They explained how each movement meant something, and then performed a scene from their major production. The scene involved the Thai Monkey-God Hanuman talking with a very sassy monk. It was elegant in nature, but crass and SO Thai in performance. At one point in a mock argument the monk called Hanuman an asshole. In Thai. You could tell where the Thai middle school students were sitting in the audience from their screams. Try that in America, I say.
So, I apologize that this isn't about getting lost on a river taxi, or eating fried insects, or whatever else blogs about living in developing countries involve. I'm woefully and suddenly upper middle class. But I'm trying to find out what advantages that affords me that will add color and vibrance to our lives, without numbing our senses and dulling our edges with luxury. Because I ask all of you to promise me, if I end up like this parent I talked to at the smoothie restaurant, come and get me. She's been here for 19 years, has a driver, a cook and a maid. She said, "I can't go anywhere else. What would I do without them?" If I can't answer that question with substantive, meaningful answers, take me home.
See, tonight, I took the boys to a Cubs Scout recruitment meeting. In our group were three working dads who were really excited about taking their boys fishing, me, and someone's maid. Then afterwards, we went to get ourselves a smoothie down by the lake.
Now does that sound like I'm in Thailand??? Maybe if I told you I transported the boys there on a scooter, and that while we drank our smooties we counted geckos on the wall, you would believe again that I really did leave the country.
But it turns out, my blogs are turning into life as a middle class Westerner. Albeit, that is a totally different lifestyle than what I'm used to. I'm used to working two jobs to make ends meet, and would never have had time to go to a Cubs scout meeting much less recruitment meeting, much less have been able to pay for the uniform fees and outtings. I mean, how much would a weekend swimming with Dolphins cost in the US? Here, it should put us back a whole $200. For me and the three kids. Maybe less.
So the only weird food that I'm encountering so far are the european cookies on the shelf next to the oreos, and the biggest comic miscommunication has been...well, I suppose there hasn't been one. Everyone speaks English.
But this adventure is not without its ways to scrape off the superficial level of things and get to what lies beneath. I have a special relationship with the morning guard at the school, who quickly spread the word throughout the grapevine that I speak excellent Thai. So custodians, library assistants, and office workers know me by face and name and are outgoing and friendly to me as I go from place to place in the building. I benefit by finding out from there where the best fresh vegetable market is, where I can buy black beans for cheap instead of processed in the farang supermarket, and I can count on immediate help jacking up the motorscooter and jump starting it when I leave the keys in the ignition and drain the battery. (Cut me some slack. I've owned a motorscooter for 8 days. It totally throws me off that the engine quits when you put the kick stand down.)
But today I got a grandiose treat that only being in Thailand could afford. The school hosted a special Khon Performance- the traditional Thai dance, in fabulously sparkly Thai silk costumes and masks. They explained how each movement meant something, and then performed a scene from their major production. The scene involved the Thai Monkey-God Hanuman talking with a very sassy monk. It was elegant in nature, but crass and SO Thai in performance. At one point in a mock argument the monk called Hanuman an asshole. In Thai. You could tell where the Thai middle school students were sitting in the audience from their screams. Try that in America, I say.
So, I apologize that this isn't about getting lost on a river taxi, or eating fried insects, or whatever else blogs about living in developing countries involve. I'm woefully and suddenly upper middle class. But I'm trying to find out what advantages that affords me that will add color and vibrance to our lives, without numbing our senses and dulling our edges with luxury. Because I ask all of you to promise me, if I end up like this parent I talked to at the smoothie restaurant, come and get me. She's been here for 19 years, has a driver, a cook and a maid. She said, "I can't go anywhere else. What would I do without them?" If I can't answer that question with substantive, meaningful answers, take me home.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Norming
As I write this, the evening monsoon is pouring down it's greatest attempt ever to cleanse this city of cities. It's as if a special effects man is standing on my roof literally heaving buckets of water over the edge, while thunder rumbles across the sky. And I think to myself, ok. Rain. That's normal. Monsoons, that's not normal.
I do this as an exercise, so I can start to see how I can "normalize" life here in Thailand. I think it helps to identify those things that are "normal" (such as internet, Cartoon Network, and my iTunes playing Ani DiFranco) and juxtapose them against the things that are not "normal" (such as riding a scooter to work, the Thai soap operas ...they've gotten worse... and this apartment as 'home'). The hope is that eventually, my list of "normal" starts to get longer as I get used to things here, and "not normal" remains a fixed list of those things that I recognize as those things to which I can't or won't normalize against.
In case you were wondering, it's quite unlike being here as a Peace Corps volunteer. Then I was clearly a stranger in a strange land. The token "farang," Western within the door of my home but constantly adapting to Thailand whenever I stepped outside. It took me a while, but I got used to that life- my soy milk lady knew when I had been away for a few days ("maksidad, mah deh sai? by nan luy, dur!") and the MeKong River was always welcoming when I came to see what color the water was that day. This norming happened to all of us, all you guys who lived with me here at that time. Dare tell me you don't occasionally jones for some sticky rice and grilled chicken, I'll tell you "ya gohok, se." Didn't we all learn to live without tv, no phone, no internet...when we learned to live closely with ourselves, exercise unimaginable patience in unbelievably boring situations, and develop some language skills that totally kicked "dooh" by the time we all left, specifically because we never wanted to go through life without knowing what it was like somewhere totally different?
Well, it's not like that here in Farang Village, aka "Nichada Thani." Within the gates, we farangs are the lords and ladies of the land. It is where Thais become invisible and dismissable. Cable tv with an abundance of channels, gyms, a Starbucks, a western grocery store...it's all in here. And if that's not enough, then you can go just outside the gates and encounter Big C (think UBER Wal-Mart) or Central Mall with its western gadgets and prices. You could seriously live here without ever having to speak Thai. You could live among other Westerners, eat Western food, and just get by totally without speaking a word of Thai.
Hmmmmm. It's funny. It makes me think of the Hispanic communities back in Virginia. You know the ones, where people come here from Guatemala or El Salvador, move in together, huddle together at the bus stops, shop together at World Market and eat together at Pollo Loco. They're the ones that don't learn American history, the English language, and are just there to take advantage of the economy that allows them to live by a higher standard than they would ever have back home. And they're looked down upon for that...
Yet here in Thailand, it's wonderfully ok. In fact, it's been my observation that it's the "norm" here to live as one would in the US, Canada, Australia, or wherever they are coming from. And there are no Thais demanding legislation or requiring us to learn their constitution or language in order to reap the benefits that their economy affords us.
Ok, that was a total deviation from where I was planning on going...just thought...interesting.
So, I have been wondering for quite some time, how do I normalize? What's my "norm"?? Am I a westerner that orders in pizza and surfs Facebook every night? Undeniably. But is that all? I know I'm not a Thai, of that I'm sure. I don't think fart jokes are funny, especially when grown men perform acts of farting as a joke on national television. I don't ever plan to go without my bra with a mouth full of beetlenut. I also just don't know how to read, no matter how hard I try to decode the letters. But you can easily find me out "kweeing" with the guards, nannies, mae bahns at the school, and of course, those fascinating taxi drivers that seem to never get over the fact that a farang is speaking Thai to them. We cook a pot of rice every day, and bring home "gap kao" every night from the markets outside the gates. I hang bags of pineapple from my scooter handles and occasionally, drive too fast, too slow, on both sides of the road, and stop at random intervals-all within 50 yards along any given road. I forget that teachers around me aren't my PC friends who could speak Thai often much better than I could, and have found myself more than once actually a little annoyed at them for living here for 2, 3 even 10 years and still unable to appreciate a play on words in Thai, of which there are many.
And when, if, I normalize, how will my kids normalize? They have even farther to go than I do. They have actual family members here. They will be inextricably tied to this country long after I am able to return to the US and blend back in with my own family. They are biologically linked to this country. How far will they need to go to "norm"?
Or maybe, what we need, is to get to the point in which "not normal," is just simply "normal." Where there is no abnormal, everything abnormal is... Woa. I think I just had a flashback to college, there.
We've only been here 2 weeks. I think these adjustments are normal (there we go again) and the struggle to find who I am in all of this was something I went to with eyes wide open. So I'll continue to keep you posted about adjustments, norming, and life on the otherside of the world. Thanks for all your genuine support!!
I do this as an exercise, so I can start to see how I can "normalize" life here in Thailand. I think it helps to identify those things that are "normal" (such as internet, Cartoon Network, and my iTunes playing Ani DiFranco) and juxtapose them against the things that are not "normal" (such as riding a scooter to work, the Thai soap operas ...they've gotten worse... and this apartment as 'home'). The hope is that eventually, my list of "normal" starts to get longer as I get used to things here, and "not normal" remains a fixed list of those things that I recognize as those things to which I can't or won't normalize against.
In case you were wondering, it's quite unlike being here as a Peace Corps volunteer. Then I was clearly a stranger in a strange land. The token "farang," Western within the door of my home but constantly adapting to Thailand whenever I stepped outside. It took me a while, but I got used to that life- my soy milk lady knew when I had been away for a few days ("maksidad, mah deh sai? by nan luy, dur!") and the MeKong River was always welcoming when I came to see what color the water was that day. This norming happened to all of us, all you guys who lived with me here at that time. Dare tell me you don't occasionally jones for some sticky rice and grilled chicken, I'll tell you "ya gohok, se." Didn't we all learn to live without tv, no phone, no internet...when we learned to live closely with ourselves, exercise unimaginable patience in unbelievably boring situations, and develop some language skills that totally kicked "dooh" by the time we all left, specifically because we never wanted to go through life without knowing what it was like somewhere totally different?
Well, it's not like that here in Farang Village, aka "Nichada Thani." Within the gates, we farangs are the lords and ladies of the land. It is where Thais become invisible and dismissable. Cable tv with an abundance of channels, gyms, a Starbucks, a western grocery store...it's all in here. And if that's not enough, then you can go just outside the gates and encounter Big C (think UBER Wal-Mart) or Central Mall with its western gadgets and prices. You could seriously live here without ever having to speak Thai. You could live among other Westerners, eat Western food, and just get by totally without speaking a word of Thai.
Hmmmmm. It's funny. It makes me think of the Hispanic communities back in Virginia. You know the ones, where people come here from Guatemala or El Salvador, move in together, huddle together at the bus stops, shop together at World Market and eat together at Pollo Loco. They're the ones that don't learn American history, the English language, and are just there to take advantage of the economy that allows them to live by a higher standard than they would ever have back home. And they're looked down upon for that...
Yet here in Thailand, it's wonderfully ok. In fact, it's been my observation that it's the "norm" here to live as one would in the US, Canada, Australia, or wherever they are coming from. And there are no Thais demanding legislation or requiring us to learn their constitution or language in order to reap the benefits that their economy affords us.
Ok, that was a total deviation from where I was planning on going...just thought...interesting.
So, I have been wondering for quite some time, how do I normalize? What's my "norm"?? Am I a westerner that orders in pizza and surfs Facebook every night? Undeniably. But is that all? I know I'm not a Thai, of that I'm sure. I don't think fart jokes are funny, especially when grown men perform acts of farting as a joke on national television. I don't ever plan to go without my bra with a mouth full of beetlenut. I also just don't know how to read, no matter how hard I try to decode the letters. But you can easily find me out "kweeing" with the guards, nannies, mae bahns at the school, and of course, those fascinating taxi drivers that seem to never get over the fact that a farang is speaking Thai to them. We cook a pot of rice every day, and bring home "gap kao" every night from the markets outside the gates. I hang bags of pineapple from my scooter handles and occasionally, drive too fast, too slow, on both sides of the road, and stop at random intervals-all within 50 yards along any given road. I forget that teachers around me aren't my PC friends who could speak Thai often much better than I could, and have found myself more than once actually a little annoyed at them for living here for 2, 3 even 10 years and still unable to appreciate a play on words in Thai, of which there are many.
And when, if, I normalize, how will my kids normalize? They have even farther to go than I do. They have actual family members here. They will be inextricably tied to this country long after I am able to return to the US and blend back in with my own family. They are biologically linked to this country. How far will they need to go to "norm"?
Or maybe, what we need, is to get to the point in which "not normal," is just simply "normal." Where there is no abnormal, everything abnormal is... Woa. I think I just had a flashback to college, there.
We've only been here 2 weeks. I think these adjustments are normal (there we go again) and the struggle to find who I am in all of this was something I went to with eyes wide open. So I'll continue to keep you posted about adjustments, norming, and life on the otherside of the world. Thanks for all your genuine support!!
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Sawatdi jak muang Thai na kha
Holy crap, I'm really in Thailand. I opened up my lap top to write tonight and the whole shebang came up in Thai.
First, let me just tell you all that I can't wait for my kids to arrive tomorrow. I feel like I'm waiting in paradise for them, and they're going to step off the plane into complete chaos but slowly I'll be able to reveal to them that this.is.living.the.dream. For rizzle.
I left the US in the daytime. Then I didn't pay attention to the windows for the entire flight, and arrived in BKK in the middle of the night. My principal (YES, my PRINCIPAL) picked me up at the airport and took me back to the SWEET garden style hotel I am staying at until our SWEET apartment is ready tomorrow. I came in, wrestled and killed a human sized cockroach (to which my principal replied, "Nice. First kill."), turned on the air, gave my principal some smoked samon and a hug for his kindness, then fell face first into bed and didn't wake up until the Tookay woke me up in the morning. For those of you not in the know, Tookays are these larger than life lizards that scream at you their name "Tookay Tookay Tookay," just so you don't forget what they're called. I opened my door to the first light of the day, my first day light since the US, and HOLY CRAP. I knew I was in the right place. Home. Seriously.
Palm trees, sputtering motorcycles, cooing of mourning doves, hot and sweaty city smell, and the unreplicable feeling of being in Thailand. Fantastic.
Right now I am sitting outside my room, listening to a call to prayer -as amazingly the school is in the Thai Muslim section of town-and feeling like there is no way I can express to you my happiness and peaceful feeling at the sensation, knowledge and awareness that I'm in the right place.
In addition to this absolute satisfaction of being back here, I am also blown away by the school. Teacher friends, I've found Paradise. This is where really good teachers go when we die. The school is the Rolls Royce of international schools, dare I say of any type of school in general, and their IB diploma graduation rate, PISA results, and general high achievement of the students are the type of testimony that big wigs and data crunchers salivate over. But if you're just into good teaching, doing what's right by students, working collaboratively with some exceptionally creative and well rounded individuals, then this is where it's at. This is where "what works" meets reality. This is also where the best educators you can assemble in one room assemble in one room. I've met some highly impressive people, not just their titles of previous manifestations of their lives, but their creative ideas and open mindedness. It was really not a surprise to me to learn that 3,000 people applied for our 40 jobs. The school has a reputation for excellence, and I can see after just one day of orientation that there is a solid, valid reason for that.
To boot, as if I need anything more than just to be in Thailand at an amazing school, there is a Mexican restaurant just 10-15 minutes walk from where I am staying. I really don't mean to sound so shallow, but the school sponsored dinner for us tonight, all 40 of us newbies, and included an open bar tab. I mean, seriously??????? You had me at "Thailand"!!!
And (there's MORE????!), my Peace Corps friends, you'll appreciate this the most. After a great meal, great conversation, and three margaritas, I was walking back to my hotel when I passed the mandatory 7-11 that must be on every other street corner. I was toasty warm from my buzz, happy from a day of high stimulation, and thought it couldn't get any better. But then I saw him. The Roti Man. For those of you that don't know what it is, I guess it's like crepes or something. But I can only just describe him as Angelic. He produces pieces of Heaven that you can eat. His mission in life is delivering the Yum. And he was right there. I mean, come on.
So tonight, I am well friends. Happy, content, confident, and optimistic about what this turn on my course will bring.
Sawatdi, and good night.
First, let me just tell you all that I can't wait for my kids to arrive tomorrow. I feel like I'm waiting in paradise for them, and they're going to step off the plane into complete chaos but slowly I'll be able to reveal to them that this.is.living.the.dream. For rizzle.
I left the US in the daytime. Then I didn't pay attention to the windows for the entire flight, and arrived in BKK in the middle of the night. My principal (YES, my PRINCIPAL) picked me up at the airport and took me back to the SWEET garden style hotel I am staying at until our SWEET apartment is ready tomorrow. I came in, wrestled and killed a human sized cockroach (to which my principal replied, "Nice. First kill."), turned on the air, gave my principal some smoked samon and a hug for his kindness, then fell face first into bed and didn't wake up until the Tookay woke me up in the morning. For those of you not in the know, Tookays are these larger than life lizards that scream at you their name "Tookay Tookay Tookay," just so you don't forget what they're called. I opened my door to the first light of the day, my first day light since the US, and HOLY CRAP. I knew I was in the right place. Home. Seriously.
Palm trees, sputtering motorcycles, cooing of mourning doves, hot and sweaty city smell, and the unreplicable feeling of being in Thailand. Fantastic.
Right now I am sitting outside my room, listening to a call to prayer -as amazingly the school is in the Thai Muslim section of town-and feeling like there is no way I can express to you my happiness and peaceful feeling at the sensation, knowledge and awareness that I'm in the right place.
In addition to this absolute satisfaction of being back here, I am also blown away by the school. Teacher friends, I've found Paradise. This is where really good teachers go when we die. The school is the Rolls Royce of international schools, dare I say of any type of school in general, and their IB diploma graduation rate, PISA results, and general high achievement of the students are the type of testimony that big wigs and data crunchers salivate over. But if you're just into good teaching, doing what's right by students, working collaboratively with some exceptionally creative and well rounded individuals, then this is where it's at. This is where "what works" meets reality. This is also where the best educators you can assemble in one room assemble in one room. I've met some highly impressive people, not just their titles of previous manifestations of their lives, but their creative ideas and open mindedness. It was really not a surprise to me to learn that 3,000 people applied for our 40 jobs. The school has a reputation for excellence, and I can see after just one day of orientation that there is a solid, valid reason for that.
To boot, as if I need anything more than just to be in Thailand at an amazing school, there is a Mexican restaurant just 10-15 minutes walk from where I am staying. I really don't mean to sound so shallow, but the school sponsored dinner for us tonight, all 40 of us newbies, and included an open bar tab. I mean, seriously??????? You had me at "Thailand"!!!
And (there's MORE????!), my Peace Corps friends, you'll appreciate this the most. After a great meal, great conversation, and three margaritas, I was walking back to my hotel when I passed the mandatory 7-11 that must be on every other street corner. I was toasty warm from my buzz, happy from a day of high stimulation, and thought it couldn't get any better. But then I saw him. The Roti Man. For those of you that don't know what it is, I guess it's like crepes or something. But I can only just describe him as Angelic. He produces pieces of Heaven that you can eat. His mission in life is delivering the Yum. And he was right there. I mean, come on.
So tonight, I am well friends. Happy, content, confident, and optimistic about what this turn on my course will bring.
Sawatdi, and good night.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Great Universe Conspiracy
In his book The Alchemist, Paolo Coelho brings up the notion that regardless of race, creed, religious prescription, so forth, the Universe is engaged in this mighty conspiracy-for our happiness. I think we find that in most folk tales, myths, and even modern popular religous ideology, we accept this notion, although we call it different things- Divine Providence, the Hand of God, Fate, Destiny, we tout that metaphor of God closing a door but opening a window...in all of those examples, you find both personal and impersonal justification for the change of events, the sudden change of mind, obstacles and road blocks that send you on a detour to some place safer perhaps, or beautiful, or life changing. Personally, I like Coelho's idea that the Universe is somewhat devious, subversive, and sneaky about finding ways to please us, protect us, and ultimately bring joy. It's the best possible conspiracy theory I've ever heard of- because I'm not the type of person to go asking for things. I don't pray. I don't light incense or make merit. I don't throw coins into fountains or even play the lottery.
And yet, my life is full of things for which I am astoundingly thankful. Things that, left to my own devices, would be like those lopsided "mugs" I made in pottery class, or the dried up, weedy yard I neglected despite my best intentions to produce the greenest yard in America.
So it's with this attitude that I am explaining my recent, sudden, change of plans.
My last blog explained that the job in Arizona was beginning to look a little tangled and complex. In fact, over the days following that post, I found out several things that I had not expected. One, you can't get to Supai and escape oppressive bureaucracies without passing through the MOTHER of all bureaucratic gauntlets: I needed to be fingerprinted by the Department of Public Safety in AZ, then when that was complete, I could only then apply for an AZ teaching certificate, when I had the certificate in hand, only then could I get fingerprinted (again) by the Bureau of Indian Education. Only after the completion of these three things, could I have a contract. Only with a contract, could I moved to Supai. Barring any other unexpected requirements, I wasn't going to land in Supai until October. Key point- that is only if any other unexpected hoops didn't appear.
At first, I thought-fuck.
Then I thought, ok, I really want this, so I can make it work by....(insert creative, optimistic, and heartfelt plans).
During a moment of deconstructed resolution, I contacted my second choice option- the International School of Bangkok. I'd interviewed with them in May, but they didn't have a position available. Chances were, they wouldn't either until the following year. But when I emailed the Principal and inquired about a possible change, within four days I was fast tracked through the screening process and the next thing I knew, was talking to a delightful man who claimed to be the Deputy Head of School, who offered me a job.
I need to take a second to share with you the irony of this change. Among international educators, a job at the International School of Bangkok is one of the most coveted positions out there. It's one of the best international schools in the world, and to be the best, they give the best incentive package as well. The only way to describe this change of events was summed up by my friend Greg. He said, "so, you're going from a third world school in a first world country to a first world school in a third world county." From Supai to Bangkok, in 4 days, can only be one of those conspiracies engineered by that nutty Universe.
So, you might be wondering, if I'm happier or still festering in disappointment. My only response to that question is the same one I give to my boys, when they insist on determining which of them I love more than the other. I love them both, for different reasons. Supai, for it's raw, natural beauty, simplicity, isolation and great challenge that it would offer the kids through which they would examine who they are in this world of ours. Bangkok, for it's excellent education, position as the hub of SE Asia and all that entails, ease and familiarity of language and culture, and opportunity for my kids to explore their cultural, linguistic heritage and grow close to their Thai family members who will be living within a stones throw of where we will be living (my RPCV friends will understand why I appreciate that the living quarters are in a gated community, so those "we're just dropping by" visits at unexpected times are out of the question).
So, suffice it to say, the Universe continues to conspire for our happiness, in ways that will always keep us on our toes. I am willingly accepting this change, as I believe that by throwing your life against the wall to see what sticks is only half the fun (and really ONLY fun if it makes a big mess). The other half is letting go of the sense that you're in this alone. There really is a method to the madness that I determine to be the way I live my life, and I'm happy to say that in either case, what's sticks is the undeniable fact that my friends get me and honor the choices I make in life, that my kids are super awesome and up for anything that is coming our way, and that while Adam and I are facing a separation that is not coincidental with our departure, we are still able to rally that spirit of collaboration and friendship in order to make decisions together in the best interest of our children.
For those of you interested, here is a link to the school: http://www.isb.ac.th/
As for me personally, I'm continuing to get my head around going back to Thailand, only this time as one of those expats I always scorned and snubbed. Case in point: I'm writing this in a Starbucks, and at one point when I got up to go to the bathroom I passed the shelf of coffee and coffee presses. I thought, 'Oh man. I'm going to have to stock up on those in order to avoid that instant coffee crap I was subjected to for 2 years.' But then I remembered, in the gated community where they will house us and where the school is located, across the street from the school....is a Starbucks.
And yet, my life is full of things for which I am astoundingly thankful. Things that, left to my own devices, would be like those lopsided "mugs" I made in pottery class, or the dried up, weedy yard I neglected despite my best intentions to produce the greenest yard in America.
So it's with this attitude that I am explaining my recent, sudden, change of plans.
My last blog explained that the job in Arizona was beginning to look a little tangled and complex. In fact, over the days following that post, I found out several things that I had not expected. One, you can't get to Supai and escape oppressive bureaucracies without passing through the MOTHER of all bureaucratic gauntlets: I needed to be fingerprinted by the Department of Public Safety in AZ, then when that was complete, I could only then apply for an AZ teaching certificate, when I had the certificate in hand, only then could I get fingerprinted (again) by the Bureau of Indian Education. Only after the completion of these three things, could I have a contract. Only with a contract, could I moved to Supai. Barring any other unexpected requirements, I wasn't going to land in Supai until October. Key point- that is only if any other unexpected hoops didn't appear.
At first, I thought-fuck.
Then I thought, ok, I really want this, so I can make it work by....(insert creative, optimistic, and heartfelt plans).
During a moment of deconstructed resolution, I contacted my second choice option- the International School of Bangkok. I'd interviewed with them in May, but they didn't have a position available. Chances were, they wouldn't either until the following year. But when I emailed the Principal and inquired about a possible change, within four days I was fast tracked through the screening process and the next thing I knew, was talking to a delightful man who claimed to be the Deputy Head of School, who offered me a job.
I need to take a second to share with you the irony of this change. Among international educators, a job at the International School of Bangkok is one of the most coveted positions out there. It's one of the best international schools in the world, and to be the best, they give the best incentive package as well. The only way to describe this change of events was summed up by my friend Greg. He said, "so, you're going from a third world school in a first world country to a first world school in a third world county." From Supai to Bangkok, in 4 days, can only be one of those conspiracies engineered by that nutty Universe.
So, you might be wondering, if I'm happier or still festering in disappointment. My only response to that question is the same one I give to my boys, when they insist on determining which of them I love more than the other. I love them both, for different reasons. Supai, for it's raw, natural beauty, simplicity, isolation and great challenge that it would offer the kids through which they would examine who they are in this world of ours. Bangkok, for it's excellent education, position as the hub of SE Asia and all that entails, ease and familiarity of language and culture, and opportunity for my kids to explore their cultural, linguistic heritage and grow close to their Thai family members who will be living within a stones throw of where we will be living (my RPCV friends will understand why I appreciate that the living quarters are in a gated community, so those "we're just dropping by" visits at unexpected times are out of the question).
So, suffice it to say, the Universe continues to conspire for our happiness, in ways that will always keep us on our toes. I am willingly accepting this change, as I believe that by throwing your life against the wall to see what sticks is only half the fun (and really ONLY fun if it makes a big mess). The other half is letting go of the sense that you're in this alone. There really is a method to the madness that I determine to be the way I live my life, and I'm happy to say that in either case, what's sticks is the undeniable fact that my friends get me and honor the choices I make in life, that my kids are super awesome and up for anything that is coming our way, and that while Adam and I are facing a separation that is not coincidental with our departure, we are still able to rally that spirit of collaboration and friendship in order to make decisions together in the best interest of our children.
For those of you interested, here is a link to the school: http://www.isb.ac.th/
As for me personally, I'm continuing to get my head around going back to Thailand, only this time as one of those expats I always scorned and snubbed. Case in point: I'm writing this in a Starbucks, and at one point when I got up to go to the bathroom I passed the shelf of coffee and coffee presses. I thought, 'Oh man. I'm going to have to stock up on those in order to avoid that instant coffee crap I was subjected to for 2 years.' But then I remembered, in the gated community where they will house us and where the school is located, across the street from the school....is a Starbucks.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Test of patience
So what would you do if after you resigned from your job, and are putting your house up for sale (eh, at least going through the motions in this economy) and basically did that behemouth undertaking to turn your lifecourse in a new direction, and had just finalized all necessary plans and plane reservations to get there when you're supposed to report on August 8th...and then have someone in the business office say, "well, the red tape that is involved in a background check could last as long as the end of September, so you might have to wait that long to be able to move out here/get paid/get health insurance/register your kids in the school."
Seriously, what would you do? I cried. For just a few minutes, and then I talked it out with a friend (shout out, GM, thanks for letting me blubber).
See, if I were 20 and not 40, and single and not with 3 little, bright eyed dependents, I'd go to Guatemala or Mexico. At least, that's what I have done in the past during these "spells" of flux and uncertainty. So I took a moment to think about this crisis: so what do you do in this situation when you have kids?
Here are a few things I considered:
1. Cancel everything.Call my boss, tell her I've dramatically changed my mind, and am staying in my current position.
2. Cancel some of it. Move, still, but only as far as North Carolina. Shack up near sis, start again there, and try to battle the economic demands that would probably keep me right where I am today.
3. Freak out and pursue that other job offer in Bangkok.
4. Freak out.
5. Freak out.
6. Freak out.
Or,
7. Keep going forward and see what happens.
After talking with the Superintendant of the BIE schools in that area, who hired me, and hearing how absolutely certain he was that he had the clout and superpowers to expedite the paperwork and would move heaven and earth to get me to the Rez on time, I did something that was really hard. I put my trust in authority. Options 1-6 above were mighty tempting, but option 7 really seemed to be the most rationale one. And besides, the reason I cried in the first place was because my heart broke, because for a little bit there, I was seriously teetering on the side of FUCK THIS I'M NOT GOING THIS IS TOO MUCH TO DEAL WITH.
I'm writing this in the blog, which thanks for reading by the way (it makes me feel like you're in this with me, friends), because I'm telling you, don't change your life unless you're ready to face the consequences. There are some big ones, like your husband asking you why you're suddenly having a mid-life crisis, and people stepping back with looks of shock (and you wonder, are they contemplating calling CPS? Cuz who does this to their kids?), and all those other things. Like, look around your house. Would you move now? Yeesh.
But I'm also saying, if you're willing to take on those consequences because you believe that the promised land on the otherside of ambiguity is really flowing with milk and honey, and not the crap you're slogging through in your present life, then, go for it. Because living life is more than just taking one breath after the other. It's about reaching out to friends (shout out, AP, for assuring me we won't be homeless out West), and trusting in others when you are really just a diehard control freak, or acknowledging that giving up the sensation of control can be a relief to some degree, because you're trying to believe in something greater, more competent, than yourself.
Seriously, what would you do? I cried. For just a few minutes, and then I talked it out with a friend (shout out, GM, thanks for letting me blubber).
See, if I were 20 and not 40, and single and not with 3 little, bright eyed dependents, I'd go to Guatemala or Mexico. At least, that's what I have done in the past during these "spells" of flux and uncertainty. So I took a moment to think about this crisis: so what do you do in this situation when you have kids?
Here are a few things I considered:
1. Cancel everything.Call my boss, tell her I've dramatically changed my mind, and am staying in my current position.
2. Cancel some of it. Move, still, but only as far as North Carolina. Shack up near sis, start again there, and try to battle the economic demands that would probably keep me right where I am today.
3. Freak out and pursue that other job offer in Bangkok.
4. Freak out.
5. Freak out.
6. Freak out.
Or,
7. Keep going forward and see what happens.
After talking with the Superintendant of the BIE schools in that area, who hired me, and hearing how absolutely certain he was that he had the clout and superpowers to expedite the paperwork and would move heaven and earth to get me to the Rez on time, I did something that was really hard. I put my trust in authority. Options 1-6 above were mighty tempting, but option 7 really seemed to be the most rationale one. And besides, the reason I cried in the first place was because my heart broke, because for a little bit there, I was seriously teetering on the side of FUCK THIS I'M NOT GOING THIS IS TOO MUCH TO DEAL WITH.
I'm writing this in the blog, which thanks for reading by the way (it makes me feel like you're in this with me, friends), because I'm telling you, don't change your life unless you're ready to face the consequences. There are some big ones, like your husband asking you why you're suddenly having a mid-life crisis, and people stepping back with looks of shock (and you wonder, are they contemplating calling CPS? Cuz who does this to their kids?), and all those other things. Like, look around your house. Would you move now? Yeesh.
But I'm also saying, if you're willing to take on those consequences because you believe that the promised land on the otherside of ambiguity is really flowing with milk and honey, and not the crap you're slogging through in your present life, then, go for it. Because living life is more than just taking one breath after the other. It's about reaching out to friends (shout out, AP, for assuring me we won't be homeless out West), and trusting in others when you are really just a diehard control freak, or acknowledging that giving up the sensation of control can be a relief to some degree, because you're trying to believe in something greater, more competent, than yourself.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
What the heck am I doing???????????????
So I suppose the title says it all. Lately I've been feeling a little "buyer's remorse," not enough to change direction but certainly enough to occasionally stop walking and stare at the ceiling wondering, 'what is wrong with me?' or to sit through a cycle of a red-green-yellow-red light because I'm distractedly wondering if I've really given this enough thought or perhaps, I need a few more months (give or take a few years) to really consider what it means that I'd move my children and myself to about 7,000 feet down and 8 miles into one of the Wonders of the World. Just sayin'. It's kind of a big thing.
So for you all who are wondering, what is she, nuts? I suppose the answer is, Jen Kreps Frisch says I'm not. For you all who know Jen, you know that doesn't hold much water. Sorry, Krepsy. But she did point out that you're sane as long as you wonder if you're actually crazy. She's right, you know. Those guys mumbling to themselves in puddles of their own pee, they wouldn't actually say, "I think I'm losing it." In fact, they'll tell you all about the reasons why everyone else is insane and they're the ones with all the reasonable answers and explanations that we refuse to acknowledge, if you ask. I did that. Once.
So, I'm at this fabulous training for the IB in a nice urban city on the East coast this week. I'm leading a workshop, getting newcomers to the IB to come to Jesus and drink the Kool Aid (I have no qualms about mixing metaphors) to be 21st century educators. My participants are actually some of the nicest people I've ever met, considering I'm bombarding them with a brain dump of highly complex pedagogy and practice. As they filed out today, our second of three days of said brain dump, they're actually thanking me, telling me how helpful it is and how much they are learning. It occurs to me, I'm really good at this. I really know my stuff. Throw any question at me, no matter how far you reach with your "what if...," I know where all the dust bunnies are under the IB couch, where the loop holes are, and even what's coming in years ahead because I know the moles in the Europe office.
And I'm walking away from it all.
I'm a master teacher and teacher trainer, and yet I'm going to probably one of the few places I could go where the kids are going to take my butt, wrap it up with a neat little bow, and hand it back to me- probably all within the first few minutes I've been with them. I am telling you, I've been fairly warned. When I was down there, the superintendant closed the door and said to me and the two other hopeful applicants, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." He then noticed the school psychologist out the window, and called him in. He also closed the door, and said, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." Not much long after that, the principal said directly to me, "You don't cry easily, do you? Because just so you know, we have discipline problems here." You don't say.
I understand that the kids who find it amusing to climb on the roof of the school during the school day will point to the cliffs and say, "what's so dangerous about being up here? I was up there yesterrday." It's also my understanding that they just might, so I've been told, tell me to fuck off and leave the classroom (but at least turning off the lights when they leave, the principal remarked). And then apparently, there's the turning over of desks and fighting with one another at random intervals.
Confronted with this reality, I really do wonder, what the heck am I doing?
So for you all who are wondering, what is she, nuts? I suppose the answer is, Jen Kreps Frisch says I'm not. For you all who know Jen, you know that doesn't hold much water. Sorry, Krepsy. But she did point out that you're sane as long as you wonder if you're actually crazy. She's right, you know. Those guys mumbling to themselves in puddles of their own pee, they wouldn't actually say, "I think I'm losing it." In fact, they'll tell you all about the reasons why everyone else is insane and they're the ones with all the reasonable answers and explanations that we refuse to acknowledge, if you ask. I did that. Once.
So, I'm at this fabulous training for the IB in a nice urban city on the East coast this week. I'm leading a workshop, getting newcomers to the IB to come to Jesus and drink the Kool Aid (I have no qualms about mixing metaphors) to be 21st century educators. My participants are actually some of the nicest people I've ever met, considering I'm bombarding them with a brain dump of highly complex pedagogy and practice. As they filed out today, our second of three days of said brain dump, they're actually thanking me, telling me how helpful it is and how much they are learning. It occurs to me, I'm really good at this. I really know my stuff. Throw any question at me, no matter how far you reach with your "what if...," I know where all the dust bunnies are under the IB couch, where the loop holes are, and even what's coming in years ahead because I know the moles in the Europe office.
And I'm walking away from it all.
I'm a master teacher and teacher trainer, and yet I'm going to probably one of the few places I could go where the kids are going to take my butt, wrap it up with a neat little bow, and hand it back to me- probably all within the first few minutes I've been with them. I am telling you, I've been fairly warned. When I was down there, the superintendant closed the door and said to me and the two other hopeful applicants, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." He then noticed the school psychologist out the window, and called him in. He also closed the door, and said, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." Not much long after that, the principal said directly to me, "You don't cry easily, do you? Because just so you know, we have discipline problems here." You don't say.
I understand that the kids who find it amusing to climb on the roof of the school during the school day will point to the cliffs and say, "what's so dangerous about being up here? I was up there yesterrday." It's also my understanding that they just might, so I've been told, tell me to fuck off and leave the classroom (but at least turning off the lights when they leave, the principal remarked). And then apparently, there's the turning over of desks and fighting with one another at random intervals.
Confronted with this reality, I really do wonder, what the heck am I doing?
Friday, June 10, 2011
Getting my head around this
So it begins, the next chapter of what has already been a very busy, and adventurous, life. This time, the three most important little people in my life are coming with me, and will participate in this adventure with the innocence and wonder of childhood. That said, I hope they don't hate it.
That is just one of the many conflicting thoughts I've had over the last several months. It might be that one day, I feel as if I've stumbled upon what is going to be the greatest experience of my life. But the next day, I might be wondering if perhaps I am overshooting my scope of capabilities and reasoning and am in fact, just having a mid-life crisis and should just take some time to think about this. Not that I haven't. Not that I haven't been thinking about it almost 24/7 for the past two months.
What you see to the left and below are pictures of my trip out there, to interview in person. They say (whoever "they" are) that the best interviews are the ones in which you're checking out your prospective employers as much as they are checking you out. So I went, with heart, mind and eyes wide open.
I owe much to my friends, not the least money, but that which I'll never be able to repay is the unconditional acceptance of my need for fulfillment in unconventional ways. My beautiful friend Kristin called me from the tarmac of the airport after her flight from Korea had just touched down, just because she'd been thinking of me while she was vacationing there. I told her I was heading to the Grand Canyon for an interview, and her immediate response was, "I'll go with you."
So indeed, off we went. Have you ever felt like your best laid plans were actually pretty lame, and that there was a higher force intervening to keep you from having a monumentally horrible experience? From getting the very last seat on a morning stand by flight to the relief when the car rental agency didn't notice the black scratch marks on the roof of the white car from my camera, I can say there was a compassionate hand guiding us along our way.
The landscape was amazing. Kristin pointed out after a few hours that I kept taking in deep breathes, and I realized, "I can breath out here." We must have looked sufficiently important in my little suit dress shoes, since they let us take the first flight into the village on the helicopter the morning of my interview, and even let me sit in the front. I got to take in four and a half minutes of the view as we propelled through the canyon to the village. It was the most amazing vista I'd ever seen in my life, a monument to the forces of nature and brilliance of the color spectrum.
Finally, after a day spent in the village in interviews and mingling with the local kids at a some-what-out-of-the-way swimming hole (far enough from the main drag that the kids froze mid-swandive and head-dunking when we emerged from the brush, until we asked if we could join them), I decided this was the place to go next. I keep trying to figure out why exactly. I think I have a few things worked out, but I also know that over the next year or so, I will come to know more reasons why I was called to join the teaching staff at Havasupai Elementary School.
 |
| The village, from the helicopter. |
So it begins, the next chapter of what has already been a very busy, and adventurous, life. This time, the three most important little people in my life are coming with me, and will participate in this adventure with the innocence and wonder of childhood. That said, I hope they don't hate it.
That is just one of the many conflicting thoughts I've had over the last several months. It might be that one day, I feel as if I've stumbled upon what is going to be the greatest experience of my life. But the next day, I might be wondering if perhaps I am overshooting my scope of capabilities and reasoning and am in fact, just having a mid-life crisis and should just take some time to think about this. Not that I haven't. Not that I haven't been thinking about it almost 24/7 for the past two months.
What you see to the left and below are pictures of my trip out there, to interview in person. They say (whoever "they" are) that the best interviews are the ones in which you're checking out your prospective employers as much as they are checking you out. So I went, with heart, mind and eyes wide open.
I owe much to my friends, not the least money, but that which I'll never be able to repay is the unconditional acceptance of my need for fulfillment in unconventional ways. My beautiful friend Kristin called me from the tarmac of the airport after her flight from Korea had just touched down, just because she'd been thinking of me while she was vacationing there. I told her I was heading to the Grand Canyon for an interview, and her immediate response was, "I'll go with you."
 |
| The Grand Canyon, from the helicopter. |
So indeed, off we went. Have you ever felt like your best laid plans were actually pretty lame, and that there was a higher force intervening to keep you from having a monumentally horrible experience? From getting the very last seat on a morning stand by flight to the relief when the car rental agency didn't notice the black scratch marks on the roof of the white car from my camera, I can say there was a compassionate hand guiding us along our way.
The landscape was amazing. Kristin pointed out after a few hours that I kept taking in deep breathes, and I realized, "I can breath out here." We must have looked sufficiently important in my little suit dress shoes, since they let us take the first flight into the village on the helicopter the morning of my interview, and even let me sit in the front. I got to take in four and a half minutes of the view as we propelled through the canyon to the village. It was the most amazing vista I'd ever seen in my life, a monument to the forces of nature and brilliance of the color spectrum.
Finally, after a day spent in the village in interviews and mingling with the local kids at a some-what-out-of-the-way swimming hole (far enough from the main drag that the kids froze mid-swandive and head-dunking when we emerged from the brush, until we asked if we could join them), I decided this was the place to go next. I keep trying to figure out why exactly. I think I have a few things worked out, but I also know that over the next year or so, I will come to know more reasons why I was called to join the teaching staff at Havasupai Elementary School.
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