Our Travel Adventure: a 2014 Wrap Up

I had intended to do this post sooner to when we returned to the States, but my perspective may actually be better now. This was the post as it would've been if I'd published it when we got home at the end of July:

"Let's talk about culture shock. Specifically, let's talk about reverse culture shock.

Less than 24 hours after return:
Everything is HUGE. And overwhelming. Joe is thrilled to be home but I'm not so sure. After 3.5 weeks traveling in Croatia, Slovenia, and Italy, I really just wanted the short flight back to London and our tiny, tiny flat. 14+ hours of flying means everything feels weird when you land. LAX is my old stomping grounds - my uni and my old apartment are visible from the runways, but it still just felt weird.

Also, parking lots. I don't know why but these stick out for me. I haven't seen a real parking lot in almost a year. In London I often wondered where people who had cars ever put their cars when they were out. No parking lots, no parking structures, not even a lot of street parking. California is the opposite. All I see are massive parking lots in front of massive stores. Stores I have always loved (Target, Costco, Ikea) but still. Everything seems so HUGE right now. I was originally planning a visit to the mall but I've backed out because it sounds WAY too overwhelming."

So now that we've been home for 5 months, here is a look back at our adventure.

Time Away: 336 days

Countries Visited: 20

Visitors from Home: 5

Checkmarks on our London & Beyond List: 63/85

In case you need a refresher, here is our original list of goals:

Cities

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Barcelona, Spain

Bath, England

Berlin, Germany

Bled, Slovenia

Brussels, Belgium

Budapest, Hungary

Cambridge, England

Copenhagen, Denmark

Dublin, Ireland

Edinburgh, Scotland

Florence, Italy

Geneva, Switzerland

Helsinki, Finland

Madrid, Spain

Milan, Italy

Munich, Germany

Normandy, France

Oslo, Norway

Paris, France (x2)

Prague, Czech Republic

Rome, Italy

Salzburg, Austria

Split, Croatia

St. Petersburg, Russia

Stockholm, Sweden

Stonehenge, England

Stratford-Upon-Avon, England

Venice, Italy

Vienna, Austria

Wales (not sure where yet)

Zagrab, Croatia

Tours & Activities

Abbey Road

American Thanksgiving (host or attend)

Anne Frank’s house (Amsterdam)

Beatles landmark

Bike tour of a major city (Helsinki, Berlin, Paris, Barcelona, Munich)

British Library (for research, believe it or not)

Buckingham Palace (kind of)

Charles Darwin landmark

Church on the Spilled Blood (St. Petersburg)

Cider mill tour

Collect a set of British edition Harry Potters (pictures to come)

Collect an international set of multi-lingual Harry Potters (pictures to come)

Cooking class (Sarah - London, Budapest, Tuscany, Florence; together - London)

Debussy landmark (France)

Drive “British”

Dutch flowers/tulips

Flying Fantastic class

Formal High Tea

Galileo landmark (Pisa)

Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia (Barcelona)

Go ice-skating

Guinness Brewery tour

Harry Potter studio set tour

Hermitage Museum (St. Petersburg)

Hike 10+ miles somewhere

Holi festival

IceBar

Issaac Newton landmark

Jane Austen landmark

Led Zeppelin landmark

live dramatic performance (Sarah in October, Joe & Sarah with Moms; together)

live orchestra performance (Berlin, Prague, London, Vienna)

live other sporting event (tennis, cricket, rugby)

live singer/band (Sarah - Vienna Teng; Joe - Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree, YES!)

live soccer game

London Museum of Natural History

Norwegian fjords

Pink Floyd landmark

Ravel landmark (France)

Richard Dawkins event

Ride the London Eye

See a live hockey game  (Winter Classic in LA in January)
St. Paul’s Cathedral

Swim in the Mediterranean

Take a spontaneous vacation (Paris - booked 5 days ahead)
Tate/Tate Modern

The British Museum

Travel by boat (Gothenburg; Baltic Cruise; Norwegian fjords)

Travel by train (Flam, Norway; Prague; lots of times between cities)

Use all of the fruits/vegetables that come in a VegBox

Van Gogh museum (Amsterdam)

Westminster Abbey (front only)

Winery tour

I'm quite proud of this list, actually. We didn't tick off every item, but what this list doesn't reflect is our shifting priorities the longer we were away. Certain items were completed multiple times or in ways that make me really proud. Some things were skipped because by the end we realized we didn't really care to make them a priority. Other items became priorities later on (cocktails in London, picnicking in Waterlow park, etc) but were never added to the official list.

We didn't just travel by train to say we did it, we travelled by train to get ourselves through Spain, and from Hungary to Austria to Germany, and all around Italy. We took miniature adventures every time we changed cities because we always did it without the convenience and comfort of a car. As native Southern Californians, that was a big deal. I'm proud of the way we adjusted to using public transportation.

I'm also proud that we took advantage of London - we went to museums, we tried things, we bought tickets to shows and performances, we saw advertisements on the Tube and then actually sought out those events and participated. We aren't big city people. Participating in the life of the city was a big deal.

Certain places were skipped because that was the pragmatic decision. Greece and Poland were cut before we even committed the list to paper. Switzerland was cut very early on. But what this list doesn't show is all of the places and items we added along the way. Barcelona was on the list, but in the process we also went to Seville and Cordoba and Granada. We cut Salzburg because of rain, but we added Scotland almost at the last minute and it was one of our most relaxing getaways. Brussels was almost cut but then we got to do it with Ryan when he visited, which was even better. I didn't go to Shakespeare's birthplace (Stratford), but I did go to his birthday party.

Since we've been back, one of the questions we get most often is What was your favorite part? Really, it depends on my mood. On different days, I miss different facets of this adventure. Memories of the many places we went and things we did are sparked constantly and I miss London every single day. I think that I will for the rest of my life.

It's hard to explain to people what a year away feels like. We slid back into our normal life again, and it was both harder and easier than I'd expected. We came back broke, so we lived separately with our mothers for almost 4 months before we were financially viable enough to get our own place again. On the other hand, I was back to work teaching high school full time only 3.5 weeks after we landed in California from Rome. Since I was still writing my dissertation for my MA program, it felt like I was living two different lives at once - my London life as a student was still going while my California life as a teacher was in full swing already. I spent August and September mentally and emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. Being back in California felt both normal and completely uncomfortable at the same time. 

After spending nearly all of my time exclusively with my husband for more than 11 months, we were living apart and had to plan to see each other almost like when we started dating. The logistics of moving out of the country and then back in aren't what people talk about. In London, there were things about my life here that I missed every single day. Now that we're back, there are parts of the life we made there that I will miss every single day. (It doesn't help that I see bits of London in so many of the movies and TV shows I watch. Or maybe it does help. I'm not really sure.) Our life here picked up where we'd left off in a way that was almost seamless, but I feel different in my life now than I would have if we hadn't gone. Maybe that was the point.

I don't know what my favorite part of our year away was. I can't tell you which city was my favorite. Sometimes they all were. Sometimes I wish I could be eating in Budapest or sitting on the deck in Split or walking through the rain in Dublin and other times I'm happy to get good Mexican food and drive my car. Sometimes none of the places we visited compares to the one place we lived (and then I miss London so much I could cry). Sometimes the part I miss most is our friends (which was true in London, too). Sometimes I miss the impromptu visits to Brewdog on the way home from school. Sometimes it's British food and Camden High Street and sometimes it's the ride on the 214 and the walk from our bus stop to our little, little flat. In our three-story townhouse now, sometimes the 1700+ square feet feel like way too much and I miss our little one-bedroom home where the full-sized bed touched the walls on three sides. Sometimes I miss exploring a new city with Joe and having nothing on our schedule but whatever we wanted to see or do there that day. Sometimes I'm just happy to be home, doing a job I love (and missed terribly for 3 years), and living close enough to see friends we've had since high school. Sometimes the London Instagram feed features a picture that includes the 24 bus or Gower Street and I miss the life I had there so badly. Then I discover that I can get mocha lattes at Coffee Bean and I don't feel so far from London anymore. There's always been a travel Sarah that was more independent and spontaneous and brave than regular Sarah, and London brought me closer to merging the two. 

The adventure was big but it was also small. The parts I think about are bus rides and tea shops and restaurants we found in cities all over Europe. I think about the time I spent alone and feeling comfortable by myself for maybe the first time ever. I wouldn't go to the movies by myself here, but I did there and it made me feel independent. I think about all of the beauty and history and the way it mixed in with feeling lonely and cold and happy and brave and accomplished. I think about the fact that I wanted to go on a big adventure and that somehow, my husband and I actually did it.

The truth is, I don't know how to answer the small talk questions about our adventure. The whole experience is way too big for small talk answers. 

On Homesickness

Disclaimer: This post was written almost in its entirety while Joe was home in California for 9 days visiting friends and family. That was over a month ago. It didn't seem appropriate when we were getting ready to visit Spain for 10 days, but it works on a Monday. 

It goes without saying that the hardest part of moving here is being away from people. Joe handles it better than I do overall, but maybe that is because he's known since the beginning that he'd get a chance to top up on friend-family time in January. Being away this long means missing things. It means missing Alicia's 30th birthday party, which I never would have missed under any other circumstances. It means I haven't met Cate's new boyfriend even though they're actively planning a life together. It means my mom turned 60 and I didn't get to take her out or plan a party for her, and Joe's dad turns 60 in a few weeks and we'll miss that too. I means that my nieces are growing and changing and Ivy may not know who I am the next time I see her. FaceTime is probably my best friend right now.

But homesickness isn't just about those things. If missing people is the number one factor in homesickness, numbers two and three for me are probably food and shopping. Let me explain.

While London has a lot to offer in terms of restaurants and my grocery stores are incredibly well stocked, every once in a while it would be nice to go somewhere and not have to translate the ingredients in my head. I know that aubergine means eggplant and courgette is zucchini. I have figured out that my grocery store calls powdered sugar icing sugar and hot cereal is porridge. I've learned to deal with the strange habit of calling both seeds and leaves coriander even though I think one of them is cilantro. Fine. I have even figured out some of the stranger ingredients that pop up often on menus. But damn, what I wouldn't give to eat in a restaurant I know and not gamble on some place I've never been. There is something innately satisfying about eating in a place where I don't have to read the whole menu and can just order something I know I'll love without thinking about it at all. I miss that. (And before you ask, yes, of course we've found a few go-to places here as well, but 5 months of frequenting a restaurant does not compare to 15 years.) I'm thinking about Elephant Bar, Luna Grill, Arby's (guilty pleasure), Miguel's across from the outlet mall, Casa de Bandini in Encinitas, Boudin, Nordstrom cafe, and countless other places I could go every weekend when I was home. I'm also missing Sprouts and Costco for groceries. (In fact, Costco may get its own dedicated post one of these days.)

And that leads to the other factor: shopping. I know I said I wouldn't be one of those expats who write an Ode to Target, but screw it. I miss Target. And Old Navy and Ann Loft. I miss knowing my sizes and being able to buy something off the rack without always trying it on first. I miss knowing where to go when I have a need and feeling confident that I am getting the quality I want for a price that is reasonable. I don't know the brands here well enough to feel that sort of confidence in my purchases. At home I would never buy products like shampoo or trash bags at the grocery store because I know that the prices are ridiculous and I can do much better at Costco/Target/Walmart, but here I just don't know. In addition to that, I have to walk or take a bus anywhere I want to shop so I am not about to wander all over the city in search of bar soap that costs £1 less.

Transportation is probably another factor in my homesickness this week. I miss my car. I miss the freedom of going some place on my own at my own pace and on my own terms. I miss the 78 freeway so much that I actually zoomed in on it on a map app in order to follow the route from my mom's house to our old apartment in San Marcos. We are incredibly lucky to have a bus stop that is at the end of our street. But that's still a walk up and down a hill rather than the ease of out a door, into the garage, and directly into your own personal vehicle like I had before. The public transportation system in London is awesome and I'm very glad we don't need cars here to get around; I spend about the same on Oyster fares as I would on gas (less actually) and I enjoy the calm feeling of being able to relax or read on my commute instead of stress myself about getting somewhere on time. Still, sometimes, I miss being able to jump in my car in my pajamas for those last-minute, just-a-few-items grocery runs. Or the multi-store, lots-of-bags-in-the-trunk stocking up trips. Sometimes I don't want to deal with the walking, the carrying, or the people. (Other times I love that once I board the bus, everything else is out of my hands so I can just sit back and relax until I arrive at my destination. Easy peasy.)

Please don't read this post the wrong way. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to absent myself from my normal life for a year, go back to school, travel, and spend endless time exclusively with my husband. I know that this year has been and continues to be the right decision for Joe and I for innumerable reasons and that we will look back on this time with fondness that erases the homesickness that comes in waves. I am grateful, since I know that most people will never find themselves in a position like ours with the chance to drop all responsibilities (kinda) and explore. I am thrilled that we are doing this and many, many times I find myself walking from school to the bus stop or along Camden High Street or up to our building and marveling at the amazing feeling that we've actually done it - we moved to another country and we have a life here. But every once in a while, even though I love the life we've built here, I am completely overwhelmed with how much I miss the life we had already built back home.

Just remember, comments cure the homesick. ;)

London Chocolate Week

(Sunday, October 20)

While it has been fun to re-live our travel memories by writing this blog for the last month, I'm really excited to be just about caught up and ready to start posting the things we're doing here in London in real time. We have been here for nearly 7 weeks already and it's only now that I'm starting to feel like I have a grip on things.

London is a huge city and there are thousands of activities, fairs, festivals, events, and experiences to participate in every week. In order to make the most of this year, Joe and I have to know at least some of what's going on before it happens, which is a project enough on its own. I "liked" Time Out London, the Telegraph, BBC, several museums, and a bunch of other pages on Facebook so that updates and information would pop up on my newsfeed and I wouldn't always have to go searching it out. When we do take the tube (which is far more rare than the bus for us), I try to pay attention to the advertisements for what is happening in the city. It would be nearly impossible to know everything happening in this city that we'd be interested in at any given time. (For example, we missed the Harry Potter IMAX movie marathon at the British Film Institute that happened the first weekend after we moved in to our apartment. Lesson learned.)

Pouring rain during my walk to the overground train (replacement service for the tube)

I found out that October 14-20 were Chocolate Week in the UK just as the events were getting started and I knew I wanted to do something to participate. Since participants spanned the kingdom, I first had to find a deal nearby. I had nearly given it up due to expense and travel confusion when I found out about Salon du Chocolat's show at Olympia National Hall featuring dozens of delicious chocolatiers from all over the United Kingdom. Plus there was a fashion show of couture looks created entirely in chocolate! This I had to see!

I am not good at taking selfies...

chocolate sculpture!

my favorite of the chocolate fashions - those "feathers" are made from chocolate!

samples!

This goofball wanted to video chat with me while
I was wandering the event to show me her newly
missing tooth!

The event was kind of expensive and I did end up going alone, but I'm glad I didn't skip it. I am looking forward to more events I find on Time Out coming up soon!

Scotland

Over a year ago now, when I was out of work, panicked, and looking for a way to focus my energy, I started writing a paper on a piece of literature I knew could get me back into the swing of academic reading and writing: the Harry Potter series. In the process of applying for graduate school I knew I would have to submit a sample piece of writing; I also knew that nothing I had written in college or grad school before would accurately portray the kind of work I wanted to do during this foray back into  academia. I had a theory and I wanted to pursue it. So I planned, read, went to university libraries all over San Diego, and wrote page after page.

About a month or so into this process I started thinking about the problem with academic writing in liberal arts: it is done in a vacuum, often with no connection at all to the wider world of academics or even literature as it is used outside of universities, and it is done without express purpose. I figured that if I wanted a purpose, I would look for one. So I searched CFPs for young adult literature and Harry Potter, hoping that I could find some conference somewhere that I could write for, with no real intention of submitting my writing at all. But then, I found it -  A Brand of Fictional Magic: Reading Harry Potter as Literature. The very first fully academic, literary conference entirely devoted to Harry Potter. In St. Andrews, Scotland, at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Abstracts due by Halloween, no pun intended.

I sent my abstract as a whim, mostly to keep my writing on track and give myself purpose. Less than a month later I got an email saying my paper on reading the last three books of the series as an entrance into dystopia had been accepted. I was shocked. Now, I just had to figure out how I could get there. There was no option or whim present now - I had to go.

It took months to write my paper and at 36 pages, it still feels incomplete to me. There is so much to say, so many nuances to examine, so many questions to answer. I was lucky that over the course of my composition phase I had people around me (my colleage, Mr. Elfman in particular), who could listen to my theories and find the discrepancies in them. I had the luxury of time to develop my ideas and hone my style. Then, when it came time to cut the entire text down to something that could be read in 10-15 minutes, I had enough courage to slash more than half of the paper, delete lines, and cut almost all of the background.
The conference itself was an unreal experience. I was surrounded by such brilliant literary scholars with deep and intriguing ideas I'd never considered before. It was enlightening and refreshing, exciting and overwhelming, and exactly the push I needed to remind me why I want to go back to school at all. Eight years after completing my bachelor's degree in literature, I am so ready to return to academia to recharge my batteries and renew my passion for literature. (Just for a little extra taste, here's keynote speaker John Granger's synopsis of the conference.)

Mom and I outside the St. Andrews University building where the conference was held.

Afterwards, all fifty of the conference speakers were invited to submit their papers to be published in a compilation book. Again, it was a whim. Again, I was stunned when I found out I was accepted. Of the fifty papers, about a dozen are in the process of being turned into a book and mine is one of them. If I weren't still so overwhelmed by this, I'd be hollering from the rooftops.

From the right: kilt, kilt, kilt, pajama pants, kilt towel, no really.

Scotland, itself, was a surreal experience, too. I got off the plane and was paralyzed with fear (as I almost always am the moment I realize what I've gotten myself into). The trip came less than a month after Joe and I had chosen Option 4 and I knew that I would actually be MOVING to the UK for a year with him. We were in Edinburgh for a few days before taking a train to St. Andrews. It was beautiful and historical and a lot more interesting than I expected, especially since I was on the plane before I realized that I really hadn't done any travel research at all for this trip. Beyond eating so much sugar, fat, and white flour in the first 24 hours to make me sick (so that I had to sleep it off for HOURS at the hotel), we enjoyed everything about Edinburgh. Views? Awesome. Weather? Held up well for the forecast. Kilt shopping? Don't mind if we do.

St. Andrews was small, freezing, and everything closed at 5 pm. We ate dinner at the same restaurant 2/3 nights. But the conference was so amazing that it didn't matter. I do understand now why Rowling put Azkaban prison in the middle of the North Sea. Weather forecast for one of the days = 42 degrees, real feel 26. Yikes.

One additional highlight? Fantasy grocery shopping, wherein Mom and I wander the aisles of Marks and Spencer pretending that we're shopping for groceries for my London flat where I live with Joe while attending University. We even planned a dinner party based on the things we found, and oh man, my fantasy dinner party was awesome!

The Five Year Plan

I've been pretty tight-lipped lately about the progress of certain plans for travel, work, grad school - basically all of the parts of my life that make up the blog's title. In January, I explained my reluctance to say too much based on the fact that nothing I've imagined for my life in the next few years is set, none of it is permanent. I didn't want to commit anything to writing in case it didn't work out as I'd hoped. I didn't want grad school plans to be the Teach-in-England prep posts of 2009. There are too many pieces that have to fall into exactly the right places, so I had scared myself out of writing anything at all...

Until now.

In March I received an email one morning at work. It came from a representative of University College London, the most prestigious of the five UK schools to which I applied, and said, "I am pleased to confirm that an unconditional offer of admission to the above programme of study will appear on your applicant portal shortly."

That was it. I was stunned. I'm pretty sure I turned completely white and was shaking in my chair for several minutes before I did anything else. Accepted. At one of the top universities in the world. My dream of traveling abroad for grad school could be realized.

Within a few weeks I subsequently received acceptances from all four of the other universities I had applied to as well: King's College London, Queen Mary, Roehampton, and Kingston. If I wanted to do this, I would have my pick of university programs.

Thus started a series of very serious conversations with Joe. Only a few weeks after I started receiving this good news, Joe got a job he'd very much wanted and started working. This, if anything could, complicated our plans. I didn't want to make Joe leave a job he loved for my dreams; it wasn't fair to ask that of him. So we discussed several options that included all of our priorities for the next several years of our shared life: marriage, careers, education, babies, home ownership - all of it. 

The way we saw it, we had 4 options. I don't really remember the particulars of the first three now, but the plan we called Option Four became our favorite for a variety of reasons. This plan included:
- Joe stays at his new job for 1+ year (instead of 4 months)
- I keep working at my job and continue saving $$
- Get married in 2013, instead of waiting until we get back from the UK to get engaged
- Defer enrollment for one year and leave for London in summer 2013
- Joe travels on a spouse visa so that he does not have to spend the $$ to go to post production school, since he's not sure he wants to actually work in post production

This is why I couldn't post. I didn't know how to talk about any of this until I knew that all parts of the plan were really going to happen. I didn't want to post that Joe and I had decided to get married before we'd officially gotten engaged. I didn't want to post that I'd been accepted to 5 universities in London until I was ready to explain the deferment and could deal with the repercussions that would come if my boss found out. And then I'd gotten myself so freaked out that I felt like I couldn't post any of these pieces of news - incredibly positive and exciting decisions in my life that I am thrilled with and truly believe are going to be awesome choices for Joe and I and our goals together - because I didn't want to seem like I was bragging or full of myself or acting like I'd done something incredible when I really hadn't done anything at all yet. For probably the first time in my life, humility took over and I couldn't tell people anything that was going on that might make me sound better than I really deserved. I hadn't (and still haven't) done anything incredible yet.

So I didn't publish anything. I didn't blog. I didn't put anything on facebook.

But I wanted to. I wanted to make a status update every time I received an acceptance letter. I wanted to gush to anyone who would listen that Joe and I had decided to get married. I wanted to write and write and write about it all. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Since then I have had MANY other blog post-y events that need to be written still. Please stay tuned for:

- A week in Scotland
- A week in Mammoth
- A proposal (oh yes, that kind)
- the new plan as laid out in Option Four

Resolutions 2012/Keep Your Mouth Shut

I've been thinking a lot in the last several months about goals, public perception, this blog, and motivation. I started this blog three years ago when I first considered moving to England as a way to break out of my routine, shake up my life, and really DO something. I wanted to have a place where I could share the trials and tribulations of moving to a different country and the adventures I'd have there. But I never went.


It's not that I didn't want to go or that I chickened out. I was never offered a job in the UK and so I didn't make the big jump. It just didn't work out that time.


Later in the first year of this blog I wrote about my attempts to write the next big novel in chick lit based on experiences with my friends. Another flop. I started dating someone and suddenly had no interest in writing about dating.


Each time I announce my intentions on this blog, the 4 people who read it congratulate me on my boldness. When I talked to my friends and family about applying to work in the UK back in 2009, they all rallied around to pat me on the back for my courage and gumption. But the thing is, I actually hadn't shown any real courage yet. I never got on a plane.


I want this time to be different. I started thinking about graduate school again this last September because I was terrified of becoming stagnant in my life and I wanted to make sure I had a plan to work towards. Now I want to actually do it, and I'm torn over how much I should write about it. In my research I've found conflicting messages, too. We're told to announce our New Year's resolutions so that our friends will hold us to them. Which is why, I guess, everyone (including me) posts every time they go to the gym on facebook. This article from CNN this morning also claims that declaring your intentions is an essential part of setting realistic goals.  But then there's this TED Talk about how keeping your goals to yourself actually makes it more likely that you'll achieve them...


The problem is, I think they are both right. In his TED talk, Derek Sivers claims that if you announce your goal, people will congratulate you so much on setting a big goal, that you'll feel as if you've already somewhat accomplished it, so you won't have the motivation to do the real work of accomplishing the goal. That makes sense and I can attest to it. I told people that Joe and I want to move to London next year = people were surprised and impressed and excited for us. Wow, good feeling.


But the other side is true, too. If I never told anyone that Joe and I want to move to London next year, it wouldn't feel like a real goal. Since we've declared our intentions, our various friends and family have shared their desires to visit us there, or go with us when we visit various other locales around Europe. It makes me want to go so that we can have those experiences with those people. I want to stroll the streets of London at Christmas with my mom. I want to meet Joe's mom in Italy for a week or two. I want to go and be there and do it for real and not just talk about it.


I am not one to make resolutions on New Year's, so I'm not going to declare my intentions for 2012 in that way here. I'll say that I'm in the application process still and that it's taking longer than I expected since I got my job in November. I still plan to use this blog to chronicle my experience as I try to make this jump, so I haven't let Derek Sivers get to me too much so far. But maybe I won't post until I have something definite to report each time.

Something to think about.

Times Tables

I've got London on the brain in a major way. This whole idea of moving abroad, just like before, is intoxicating to me. It makes me feel adventurous and glamorous and smart. And honestly, it gives me an option that feels like it might well fit right now. 


I've posted before about the difference between what a girl expects her life to look like at a certain age and what it actually ends up looking like. I, for example, had hoped Joe and I would be engaged by our two-year anniversary, married by three years, and having a baby when we're both 30, four years into our relationship. In my head that was the natural progression of things, not because we are ready to get married (we're not) or because we actually want a baby that soon (I'm not sure we do), but because that's just how things go. My parents did it that way (or at least similar to that way). But honestly, neither of us is ready to be in the place I thought we'd be right now. My more recent revelation is that that's okay with me.


Lately I've started to feel pressure due to my prescribed time table that is entirely self-inflicted. I've been anxious because there are so many things I still want to do with Joe before we have children, but I read articles about getting pregnant after the age of 30 and they completely panic me. A few months ago I was talking to two of my girlfriends, one married, one not. The other non-married person and I were talking about how long we want to be with our boyfriends until we want to get married and we were both somewhat taken aback when the married friend asked, "But why are you counting?" We were both stunned. What did she mean? She explained that she didn't understand the tradition of celebrating month and year anniversaries before marriage or tying certain events or stages in the relationship to a number of months or years. It made sense. If I didn't think that Joe and I *should* be ready for marriage at two years, would I actually think we are ready? No. So what the hell am I doing to myself?

I still want to see so much of the world. I still want to do something adventurous. I'm such a worry-wort, scaredy-cat, planner-organizer that I don't really give myself the opportunity to be spontaneous. London is one of the most expensive cities in the world to live in. Literally. That scares me. And it's probably not the most responsible thing to do in these tough economic times. Neither, honestly, is going back to school and incurring school-loan debt. But there are things in life that are more valuable than money. I have to decide if I'm going to live up to the subtitle of this blog or not.

Plan B

Okay, so the teaching position thing hasn't worked out for this year. Now what?

One thing I know about myself fairly well at this point is that I do not stagnate well. I tend to freak out in the middle of the night and make really big decisions without totally thinking them through. I applied for my study abroad in Spain this way. I applied for my Habitat for Humanity trip to Argentina that way. I applied to teach in England this way. (Notice a pattern?)

And so, the evolution of my fall has gone something like this:

- mid August: finish Elite

- one week of panic

- two weeks of work in a job I didn't get

- One or two days of panic and sad faces

- Sign up for the GRE and decide to apply to graduate school. In Boston. Or Chicago. Or London!

And so goes the story of my life. My primary focus is, and has always been, on setting up a relatively safe, small life. I want to find a teaching job at a suburban high school and stay there long enough to see my own students return as teachers. If and when I tire of the adolescent environment, I want to get a PhD and teach English at the university level. I want to have children and give them the opportunity to have childhoods similar to my own: K-12 in the same schools, with the same friends and a stable home life.

The problem is that my simple, safe, conservative life plan keeps getting thrown off course. And when it does I feel like I need to do something decidedly different, exciting, adventurous, and even risky. Like move across the country. Or to a different country.

I've been researching options for about a month now and the schools I've settled on range from the very safe (UCI summer program - wouldn't have to move or give up working) to the very adventurous (London for a whole year). So now, I work on applications and writing sample and dream of the options (3 summer sessions in NY at Columbia University! Taking weekend trips with Joe from London! Moving to OC and actually just having the boring life I wanted in the first place!)

There's a lot to consider, of course. Money and time and delays to other plans (marriage, kids). But there's also the consideration that if I don't do something adventurous now, while these options are here in front of me, I'll probably never do it. There's so much of the world I want to see and so many things I'd like to experience before I have kids. And if I have an opportunity to do it now, with Joe and while I'm still pursuing one of my other goals anyway, shouldn't I go for it? Even with costs and time considered, I doubt we'll look back in 25 years and think, "Wow, I wish we had had a baby a year earlier instead of going to (insert name of interesting city here) for a year..."

The thing is, grad school is still Plan B. While these daydreams completely exhilarate me and I feel adventurous just imagining them, if I were offered a full-time teaching position I would take it in a heart beat. Teaching is Plan A. My adventurousness is, as always, contingent on feeling like the safe option just isn't available to me at the moment.

First Day Eve

Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new school year at a new school and I am feeling... anxious. I do not have a contract for this position and, like last year, was asked to begin the year as a substitute while the administration figures out interviews and HR stuff. Of course, I'm happy to help. (It's funny to me how appreciative some people act because I was "willing to help out." What choice do I really have? I don't have a job and I've applied for this one. Even if they're not going to hire me and they're just using me for cheap labor, I have a car payment and rent and a credit card bill - how could I realistically say "no" to "helping out"???)

There are two positions available at this particular school and I could be assigned to either of them or neither of them by Friday afternoon. As I mentioned in my previous post, teachers are planners by nature so it's unsettling for me to start a year this way. I've written a syllabus and made seating charts. I've ordered and collected books from the library and put them away in the classroom. I've planned lessons for the first days. But I don't know if I'm staying, so I'm not sure how much I'm supposed to do beyond that. I don't want to get too attached in case I don't get the position because I'm already vulnerable right now. I don't know if I can handle that kind of effort leading to another disappointment. I don't want to clean the room completely because if I get the other of the two positions, I'll be moving rooms, changing preps, and meeting entirely different kids in a week. Everything is just so up in the air.

Overall I'm just not as excited about the first day of school as I wish I were. I love teaching. I love the beginning of a new year when everyone is fresh and excited and has high hopes and expectations for the coming 9 months. Right now that feeling of joy is eluding me.

Maybe it's because for the third time in four years, my previous school overlooked my service and effort and enthusiasm and chose to hire someone with less experience who, for whatever reason, they liked better.

Maybe it's because I spent the last four months applying for positions that would allow Plans and I to live in the same city for the first time in the two years we've been together. We are currently living 2 hours apart and only seeing each other on weekends. I had hoped that if I could secure a contract in the in-between county, we could actually take a step forward in our relationship. My decisions are made in year-long phases, so if I don't have a job closer to Plans, that means the opportunity to be together is delayed until at least next summer. In itself, the daydreams and resulting disappointment about that situation is enough to sap some of the joy from this job.

Maybe it's because the position I'm teaching right now includes a class that makes me feel like a new teacher all over again. It's a brand new prep in an area that I don't feel my skills are as developed as they should be. I'm worried I won't do well. I'm worried I'll fail the students or they'll try to overpower me when they sense my weakness. The other position that is available at the same school includes two classes I have taught before and both are in an area I feel much better about.

Maybe I'm over-thinking the whole thing. Maybe the universe is telling me that this isn't the right time to move, or maybe it's challenging me (again) to step out of my comfort zone as a teacher. I don't know. Right now I feel like crying. I feel out of control over what happens to me and that makes me so uneasy, I want to pout and be childish and just crawl into my bed and not come out until a job I really want is available. Maybe when I see the kids tomorrow, I'll feel better about the whole thing. That often happens to me.

Tomorrow is another day. Let me take a deep breath and hope it is also a better one.

The Global Achievement Gap

On the last day of our Boston trip I had the opportunity to meet with Tony Wagner, author of the education book I mentioned in the “Discrepencies” post. As I said then, I had emailed Mr. Wagner and was surprised to receive a quick response from him. I emailed again when I finished the book and asked if he had any lectures or anything going on that I could attend while in Boston; he suggested lunch.

The book itself outlines the plethora of changes that really must take place in American education. Our current system of disconnected classes, multiple-choice tests, teacher tenure, and memorization-based expectations are part of an assembly-line society that barely exists in this country anymore. We produce students the way we produce cars. It doesn’t and can’t continue to work. Already my students are refusing the model. They know that in the Age of Google, memorization of certain facts, names, and dates is no longer as necessary as it was when people didn’t have access to libraries or encyclopedias. My kids need to learn to think on their feet, ask questions, figure out problems, be self-reliant, be curious, work together – and I need to learn how to teach those skills. Mr. Wagner’s book details each of these issues – what we’re teaching, how we’re testing it, how we teach teachers, how we monitor teachers, how we teach administrators, and the new ways that this generation feels about their old-system education. It is definitely an intriguing read for anyone in an education profession or with student-aged children (especially 10 and up).

The night before the meeting I was nervous. The morning of the meeting I was nervous. I couldn’t quite pin down my anxiety – he is an educator, an author, and someone whose ideas I admire and would like to learn from, but he isn’t scary. Or at least his literary voice isn’t intimidating. I know myself too well. I know that I talk too much. I don’t know how to listen. I get nervous and forget to ask questions, or don’t know which questions to ask, I trip over my words sometimes and feel silly. I have this strange imbalance of confidence and anxiety when it comes to speaking with people I consider my superiors. Tony Wagner is a published author, he taught at Harvard, he worked for the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation – he is definitely someone I consider my superior.

But here’s the problem with the way I was raised: I have no idea when I’m supposed to shut up. I believe, because my parents instilled it in me, that my opinions matter. I believe I have a right to express myself. Some people disagree. In the hierarchical society of education, a lot of people disagree. I’m supposed to go to meetings but not say anything. I’m supposed to listen only, even if I have another idea, even if I have a question, even if I have proof that what the other person is saying is completely incorrect. I can’t operate that way. Even when I go into a situation telling myself that I will not, under any circumstances, speak out to anyone, I always do. Maybe it’s my tragic flaw.

So I went to my meeting nervous that I would seen pretentious rather than articulate. Who am I to be questioning this man? What do my questions really matter? Countless teachers have been through what I’ve been through, so who am I to think I could do it differently?

What I forgot is that Tony Wagner, at his roots, is a teacher like me. Teachers are like soldiers in a way – we’ve been through the same battles, we have the same scars, we have the same kinds of victories. We understand each other. There may as well be a secret handshake we do when we meet, because once we sat down to lunch I kind of forgot that I was sitting with this amazing author and educational standard. It felt like catching up with a friend.

Over the course of our lunch I shared some of the ways I’m trying to establish a culture of rigor and thought-provoking assignments in my twelfth grade class. I shared the struggle I’m having to do the same with my ninth grade classes based on class size, lack of student motivation to read, district-imposed curriculum, tests, and writing methods. He shared some things he did as an English teacher and offered a few suggestions. Mostly he commiserated with me.

During coffee, he told me he enjoyed my company and wanted to keep in touch. He suggested that I write a book, or at least pursue writing for a teaching magazine like Education Weekly. He said he was captivated by the way I tell stories. That I am speak simply and directly and articulately. Of course that was the moment I fell over myself trying to figure out a response. How does a person respond to a compliment like that? He asked if I ever wrote. I said of course but that I don’t consider myself a writer. He offered to help me make connections with professors in the Boston University Literature MA program.

Overall I’m still stunned that this lunch even happened. I read a book. I enjoyed it. I’m naïve enough to think an author cares what I thought. I happened to be going to Boston already. (Talk about an opportunity a la The Outliers…)