Something to think about.

1000 Places to See Before You Die

     Let me just start by saying that the title of this book by Patricia Schultz is a lie. There are actually 1040 places mentioned. And as I understand it she's revised the book since I bought my copy and it now has 200 more destinations in it. Scary.
     I pulled this book out today just to see how many locations would be within plausible travel distance from London. I ran out of post-it tags. I don't know if this is really exciting or really daunting yet.
    For now, I'll include the places on the list that I've been already. :)

Europe

England

1.          London

France

2.      Biarritz

3.      Paris

4.      Cathedrale Notre Dame de Chartres

5.      Chateau de Versailles

6.      Loire Valley and Domaine des Hauts de Loire

Italy

7.      Capri

8.      Pompeii

9.      The Amalfi Coast

10.      The Best of Sorrento

11.      Rome

12.      Sistine Chapel

13.      Cinqueterre

14.      Portofino

15.      Florence

16.      The Uffizi Galleries

17.      Villa San Michele and Villa La Massa

18.      Montalcino

19.      Pienza

20.      Chianti and San Gimignano

21.      Piazza del Campo and the Palio

22.      Basilica of San Francesco

23.      Venice

Spain

24.      San Sebastian

25.      The Caves of Altamira and Santillana del Mar

26.      Avila

27.      Salamanca's Plaza Mayor (every day in the summer of 2005)

28.      La Catedral de Toledo

29.      La Sagrada Familia

30.      Museu Picasso

31.      The Way of St. James and the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (not totally sure but I think I've been to the last Cathedral)

32.      Madrid

Africa

(nothing)

The Middle East

(nope)

Asia

(nada... what's an Asian word for nada?)

Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific Islands

33.      Sydney Opera House and the Harbor

34.      The Great Barrier Reef and the Coral Sea

The United States of America and Canada

Alaska

35.      Mount McKinley and Denali National Park 

Arizona

36.      The Grand Canyon

California

37.      The Golden Door (my mom worked there - does that count?)

38.      Hollywood

39.      Monterey Peninsula

40.      The Pacific Coast Highway

41.      Hotel del Coronado

42.      A Tour of San Francisco's Cable Cars

Hawaii

43.      Kauai

44.      Oahu

Massachusetts

45.      The Freedom Trail

46.      Legal Sea Foods (lots of other seafood in Boston...)

Nevada

47.      Bellagio

48.      The Las Vegas Strip

New York

49.      New York City

50.      Historic Downtown New York

51.      Museum Mile

North Carolina

52.      Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Oregon

53.      The Oregon Coast

Virginia

54.      Monticello

Washington, D.C.

55.      The National Mall and Its Monuments

56.      The Smithsonian and Beyond

Canada

Been to Canada, just no where from the list... :(

Latin America

Mexico

NOTHING - even though the entrance to Mexico is an hour from here. Really should fix this...

Costa Rica

57.      Manuel Antonio National Park

58.      Chachagua Rain Forest Hotel (stayed in a Rain Forest hotel, just not this one)

Argentina

59.      Alvear Palace and Recoleta Cemetery (almost. Been to Recoleta - just not the cemetary)

60.      Las Tanguerias de Buenos Aires

(Spent most of my time in Argentina on a work site in the middle of nowhere, after all. And after Argentina, I've got .... NOTHING from the other FOURTEEN countries in this region.)

The Caribbean, Bahamas and Bermuda

 I got... nothing.

60/1040 = just over 5%. Sad.

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.

Subtitle

Several people have asked me since I started this blog where the quote at the top came from. I finally found it again. It was a line in an article by Martha Beck in O Magazine that I used on my vision board in 2009. Here's a link to the whole article for those who want to read it: Stop Regretting Decisions by Martha Beck.

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.

Let's do this again...

One more time.

Dear Universe,

It's not that I'm either devastated or shocked that I was not hired for the position I fulfilled these last few weeks. I was brought on as a substitute and was not entirely qualified for all parts of the position. I knew and accepted those conditions. It's not that I won't get over the sudden ache I feel because I had already started to fall for this batch of students, particularly the seniors, and already feel a tug when I think that I won't have a chance to say goodbye to them or see them develop this year. The position itself wasn't perfect or ideal.

I understand all of that.

I understand, too, that there is something better out there for me. Every inspirational quotation, encouragement card, and facebook response I've read has reminded me that you, Universe, must have a plan for me that I am unaware of. But I'm supposed to trust it. And Universe, I am really trying here.

I've applied and applied. I've waited and waited and waited. I've spent hours in the middle of countless nights panicking over the sizable dent my new car made in my savings account. I've woken up in a state of utter panic, wondering if I was wrong to turn down interviews for jobs that were not right for me. Jobs in cities I don't want to live in, teaching grade levels or in environments I am uncomfortable with. Maybe I was being arrogant or pretentious. Maybe this is what I get for thinking I was secure enough to pass up any opportunity for work. I don't know.

But you and me, Universe, we're supposed to be on the same side. I've had the same vision for my life since I was a very small child and I've worked toward making it a reality since I was about 11. I made choices based on these long term goals. Given, I no longer imagine wearing a pink tulle wedding gown, but much of the other stuff has kept. I've put in the time and work and sweat and tears and I'm waiting now, waiting for you to help me out. What's it going to take?

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.

On waiting...

It comes as a shock to many people who are not part of the teaching profession that those of us who are new (basically anything under 10 years) spend about half of our year waiting, hoping, stressing, and basically putting everything else on hold while we try to figure out if we have a job for the next school year. The wait officially begins on March 14, the Ides of March, when administrators must hand down their decrees and inform teachers whether or not their contracts will be renewed. Theoretically a teacher who has tenure should have nothing much to worry about, but in recent years even that hasn't been a sure thing. Teachers like me know what's coming and, if we've been through it before, don't even pretend to think anything else should be expected.

I have had two full-time contracts in the last 4 years of teaching. Each one had a plainly written beginning and ending date when I was expected to serve my school to the best of my ability and then leave as if nothing had happened. The first year I was shocked and devastated by how coldly and curtly I was dismissed after my year of service. I felt betrayed. The second time I was expecting it. It still hurt, but I was more prepared. It's kind of like being a trained fighter - the first time you're punched in the face, it's shocking; but the second time you brace for the impact and so it doesn't sting quite as badly.

After four years I have developed a thick skin made of justifications for the system. I can be logical and rational and understand that my district and school and principal have to make difficult decisions and that none of it is really personal. I can explain to people outside of the education profession that my job performance, rapport with students, enthusiasm, and know-how are actually not at all related to whether or not I will receive a pink slip. Logically, rationally, I understand all of this. I can take a deep breath, swallow the disappointment, and try to plan my next move.

But therein lies the true problem.

Teachers, as a species, are planners. It's part of the nature of the job. It's part of why we get hired - we're organized, we have contingency plans for when the technology doesn't work, or the copies are eaten by the copy machine 3.5 minutes before class, or when there's a fight at lunch and it's nearly impossible to catch and maintain the attention of 36 fourteen-year-olds during 5th period. We know how to get through. We know how to be flexible and make the lesson happen against all odds. We plan ahead.

Job searching means that there is no plan.

In June, as the school year was wrapping up and many of my colleagues began asking what I would be doing in the fall, I was able to shrug my shoulders and politely but honestly say that I have no earthly idea. I was also able to keep my breath steady and my heart rate normal while saying this because I still had a plan. It was a minor plan, but a plan nonetheless: I had 8 weeks of PSAT Book Camp to look forward to (and the paycheck that goes with it). Until the middle of August, I was set. But the plan goes no further.

It is now the middle of August. I have two days left of teaching for the PSAT program. I have applications out for a variety of positions in three different counties, many of which would require moving. I have applied for part-time, full-time, middle school, high school, weekend SAT prep, online home school, and a few other options I can't even remember. I have sent resumes and tailored letters to principals and directors. I have interviewed. I have waited. I have woken up in the middle of the night and worried, then woke up in the morning and searched for yet more positions. But still, there is no word. I don't know what I'm doing this year. My current job will be done in 2 days and I have no idea where my next paycheck will come from. I am a teacher and I have no idea where or who I will be teaching, if at all.

Since my boyfriend and I have been together going on two years, I often am asked when we plan to move in together, get married, or start a family. I don't know. Without the security of a job, without even a county to settle down in, it's hard to move forward. I finally gave up waiting and bought a car in June but now I see it and think, Oh my God, how am I going to make these payments? Forget an apartment or a husband or a life. How can I move forward with any of it when some of the basics (a place to live, a job to pay the bills) are so unsettled?

There are many stresses that come with being a teacher. I worry about my students, my lesson plans, the grading that piles up on my desk, the opinions of my administrators, and the correspondence with parents. But that's a stress I love. When I leave work at the end of a long, tough day, I know that I've done my best to guide teenagers and help them become the people they will be. That stress means I care about what I do.

The stress from March to September? I could do without it.