Baby Steps are Scary

We're on Christmas break now. The holiday is over. The house is clean, more or less. The fridge is full of leftovers. There are no looming deadlines. It's taking a while for that to sink in: there is no stress, at least that of the life-treadmill-hurry-hurry variety we normally have.

Naturally, I am sick! Of course. But today I got a wild hair to go to the hardware store for some light bulbs. See, we have an extensive to-do list for the house before we put it on the market. I decided I'd cross one thing off the list and pick up the sixteen (!) fluorescents needed in the basement, and what the hell, the missing ceiling tiles too.

We got to work as soon as I got home. My motivation snowballed a little and I grabbed the primer to paint over the spots where Sophie drew with Sharpie on the walls a few years ago. I got kind of quiet as I painted over her toddler art. I started thinking about how many tiny jobs it's going to take to do this; how many tiny goodbyes I'll make to this house we moved into just six weeks before becoming parents. How hard it will be to see it empty and walk out of it for the last time. This is the longest I've lived in one house, ever, in my 43 years. I love this house and fulfilled almost every one of my HGTV fantasies with it as my blank canvas. It's been my creative outlet. It is truly a dream home.

But it will have to be someone else's dream home in a few months. I have to be okay with that. I've dreamed about moving abroad for about two decades. My favorite word is "expatriate." As safe as I am now, I need to wake up and scare myself. It's fun to be scared, it makes us feel more alive. That's why people like roller coasters and scary movies. It's scary to do this! But even with the baby steps, I check in... and I still want to go through with it.

One month, seven days until the job fair.

Long time no blog

Sorry. I've just been dealing with a lot of swirling thoughts about this move. For several weeks I fell into a pretty deep funk about it. Not having any control over something that is so big, that's going to happen so soon and change everything so dramatically, is frustrating beyond belief. It is this behemoth concrete elephant in the middle of my life right now that will not budge. I still check the job updates every few hours; they do change that often. Google-Earthing any town I'd like to move to. Looking up real estate prices and what the houses or apartments look like. Even looking up weekend trips and flight prices from those towns.

One thing that has helped is that I sent out a few letters of intent. There was one day where Nick stayed home sick from school. I saw new jobs open in Vietnam (South Saigon Int'l) that morning. During my free time, I researched the school and the neighborhood and decided that Vietnam was exactly where I wanted to go-- it looks almost better than Bangkok! I was so excited about applying but waited until I talked to Nick about it first. I got home that afternoon, opened up my phone to show him the job listing, and... it had already been deleted. Arrrrghh!! 

So I decided to send them a letter anyway, saying that I'd seen the science job briefly, that Nick is interested in the English position, and to please keep us in mind if another science job opens up. Then I decided to send a few more "please consider us just in case" letters to other places. And I got a response from the director of Rabat American School in Morocco, one of my very top choices!

Dear Abby and Nick,

Thank you for your interest in a position here at Rabat American School.  

There is no need to apologize for candour — I thoroughly enjoyed the enthusiasm in your note!  As you mention we don’t yet have anything for science and English, but I am forwarding your email to our Secondary Principal, Mr. Paul S------.  We will definitely keep you in consideration, and should something relevant come up we will follow up with you then.  In the interim should you see something of interest please don’t hesitate to write again.

I wish you both the very best of luck in your current job searches.

Best wishes,

(Director of Rabat American School)

I took out the names so they wouldn't show up on a Google search. This letter made me feel uprighted. Boosted. All of the other robo-responses I've received have been like, "Due to the volume of responses we get..." like I'm one of several hundred faceless randoms groveling for admission into an exclusive club that may or may not take me. This one makes me smile every time I read it, and has given me a modicum of patience. I'm still having a hard time getting motivated to get our house & belongings ready to move, but I think that will come once I have any idea at all where we're going, just SOME kind of direction. So far I've written to a few schools in Germany (I'm particularly proud of those letters and the way I worked in my German experience), Barcelona, and Amsterdam. Throwing things at the wall, seeing what sticks.

I have a countdown app on my phone that tells me how long we have until July 1st (6 months 18 days), a date I picked arbitrarily because it will be within days of that date that we actually step on a plane. I created a second countdown on the app for the job fair in February (1 month 24 days), because that is likely when we'll get our jobs. Once I know, the ball can start rolling. Seeing that shorter time is helpful.

I am fiercely, scarily in love with my kids right now. I spend all day missing them, thinking about their soft faces, the smell of their necks, and tiny voices and giggles. No, this is not because I was mother-shamed about complaining in my last post (oh yes I was), and I'm making amends; I was complaining about the constraints of motherhood specifically in this country. But these girls are just magical little creatures to me. I lose sleep watching them at night. I cannot wait to start this new adventure in our little family bubble, watching them learn a new language (I can already hear them giggling over it together, whatever language it is) and go to the same school as us. Helping them when they struggle and cry over all of the adjustments, just like I did growing up. I am so proud of them, and they make me quite proud of myself. Although I might take a little too much credit; Nick does the bulk of the parenting and he is the best person I know in the world. 

I'll try to write the next post sooner than a month from now, although it is just a bunch of More Waiting. Still, I've started to keep a list of Things I Will Miss (about the US) and Things I Won't. That will probably be next.    

America is Exhausting, Part 2

It's Saturday morning. We're trying to decide what to do with our weekend. Neither of us slept well due to Sophie's usual antics (she has never been a good sleeper), so bear with me because this post is coming from a tired, grouchy me.

Sascha wants to go to the movies. So does Nick, although he wants to see something different. I said to him, "If this was 30 years ago, you could take Sascha and her cousin to the movies and let them go to their own show by themselves." Then several thoughts piled on to me at once: We have to be with our kids at all times. Nowadays, CPS is called if we let them do anything on their own. When I was a kid, our parents were not saddled with this responsibility, when crime was actually worse. On top of all that, our mothers didn't work. So after a week of 5 am wakeups, hour-long commutes, and wrangling teenagers (and this week it was also term grade deadlines), I'm supposed to do Pinterest-worthy activities with my kids because it's unsafe for them to do anything on their own, and there are no other kids around because of divorce and weekends-at-Dad's or endless sports, and why would I want them to do anything else anyway because they're supposed to be THE MOST FULFILLING PART OF MY LIFE. I suppose they are, in the abstract. But I need the damn oxygen mask on my own tired mug for a while. My personal gas tank feels like it's always near empty. I always have two bucks for more gas. Just enough to keep going, never enough for the long distances of my week. A run here, a night out with a girlfriend there. Two bucks at a time.

It has actually taken me six hours to write this post due to the constant interruptions.

On another note... A science job opened up at our number one choice of schools! I didn't wait for the English job yet. I went ahead and applied. Nick is calling it the Lottery job, because getting it would be like winning the lottery. I find myself thinking about Thailand constantly. Crossing all fingers and toes and fibers of my being. I am very confident about the letter I wrote them, so here's hoping!

The schools themselves

I've been doing more research (of course, because that's all I can do at this point), and I've found out some very interesting stuff.

First of all, the more I learn, the more excited I am to teach at one of these schools. What teacher wouldn't want to teach in a private facility that pays like a public school-- or better? With actual opportunities for saving money instead of living paycheck to paycheck? Ahh, one can dream. Money aside, many of these schools are just gorgeous. Most of them emphasize educating the "whole child" (read: less emphasis on standardized testing, they don't cut art and music and there's money for field trips) and they want the students to be aware of their world around them. I've said I love my school, and I do. We do the best we can with what we have, but compared to what's offered to the international schools? Wow. I want to be a part of that, to contribute what I know and to learn their ways.

And I want my kids there. My girls are sharp, curious and open, just right for this experience. One day Nick and I were eating some pretty stinky cheese. Sascha smelled it and made a big "eeww! ewww!" face and noises. Then a thoughtful pause. Then, she plugged her nose and popped a piece in her mouth. I looked at Nick and thought, this kid's ready. Sophie waves at everyone in public. At the dentist last week, she walked right in and hugged the hygienist, whom she'd never met before. I'm thinking she'd fit right into the Land of Smiles.

I've also read some horrible things people have said about teaching in the Middle East. Oh, my. Lots of super-rich kids expecting to do nothing and get A's, and schools that provide just that. It made me realize that we actually ARE doing a pretty good job here in the US, despite the bad publicity and scapegoating of the last few years. I've managed to unearth some unsavory tidbits about micromanaging administrators in some desirable locations, too. It's all so interesting.

Still waiting

I know, I probably started this blog too early. There is an awful lot of waiting going on. I did find a new website where international school teachers can sort of unofficially dish on their schools. It has given me some good information, although it's not as extensive as I'd like. I learned that one school has kind of a controlling jerk of a principal (I had to read between the lines on that one), and another school expects an insane amount of extra work from their teachers. But I also learned that there are a few schools on my list that sound incredible to work for. Their teachers do a much better job of selling it than the (largely objective) hiring agency. Learning all of this is an interesting process.

Of course, I'm also learning that it's the job fairs where most people get hired. Ours isn't until February. This means more waiting... waiting... and waiting. And even then, the job fairs are two days of being thrown into chaos and spit out with jobs. It sounds crazy and exhausting and exciting, but it also sounds like there's almost no way to prepare for it because there are constant surprises and quick decisions to be made. So I can yak all I want about jobs that are opening, but I have a feeling none of it will matter until the job fair.

That said, I found a teacher on the new "inside scoop" website who works at NIST in Bangkok. I asked him a bunch of questions and got a response today! He sounds very positive about the school, which of course intrigues me more than ever, but he also said that the school gets over two dozen applications per day. Per day! And it's more during the hiring season (winter). I just have to remind myself that what's meant to be, will be, and no matter where we end up, it's going to be great.

Except China. We're not going to China.

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You know this thing. It's the picture of frustration and impatience. You're 82% of the way to getting what you want. You can see where you want to be, but you can't have it.

I feel like this is my life right now. In short:

We're always almost there. Almost.

 

It's hard always having that carrot in front of you, never getting a taste.

Thailand has cheap maids and childcare. The house could be clean. Date night could cost less than $150, which means they could happen more often than once every 3 months. The word "vacation" could actually be in our vocabulary and refer to travel instead of time off school to catch up on life, cleaning and fixing the  house and running errands. Right now that's all just a fantasy, and we're working ourselves to exhaustion, always trying to tie up the thousands of loose ends hanging around that can't be done in the ten hours a day we're not at home. It's always something that needs to be fixed. Something is due. Prepping meals. Appointments. And we don't even have our kids in any extracurriculars. None!

I know, I know, the American response is that we're teachers, we get out of school at 2 pm*, summers off, stop whining and complaining, call the waaahmbulance. You could snarkily say "you could live in a smaller house" (as if there are any decent small houses available-- where we live, anything small was built 60+ years ago and supremely crappy, never updated or fixed, still priced at top dollar; that said, our house already is smaller than average and we live in one of the cheapest cities in the state) or "you chose this life" or whatever. Snark away.

*But we leave the house at 6:15, and get home at 4. We have to go to bed before 9. We have the same hours as normal people, just shifted back a few hours.

But the fact is, we are exhausted. We're squeezing ourselves out and getting very little in return, very little to refill our pitchers. Is this it, all give and no return? How much more do we need to stretch ourselves to get a little more balance? I've noticed on "House Hunters International" that on almost every episode, at the end the people will say "we're enjoying the more relaxed pace of life here." Of course they are. They live in a country where they wouldn't need to crowdfund if they got cancer.

I'm ready. I'm burned out. The big challenge is that it's going to get harder before it gets easier. Burnout is not a good thing to feel in the second month of the school year.

It's gettin' real in the Whole Foods parking lot

I have to just think out loud here.

Last night, an English job was posted for one of the two schools we've been looking at in Thailand. (There was already a science job; see two posts down.) I should give a quick description of each school:

NIST is right in the middle of the city. Like, the busiest part. This sounds really exciting to me, there would be so much to do, and we'd probably live in a high-rise apartment. There just wouldn't be a lot of outdoor play areas for the kids (except for the pool), and it could be really noisy. The school itself looks great; it has awesome facilities. Living right downtown would make it a cinch to travel.

ISB is about 10 miles outside of Bangkok, inside a gated community of expat housing. Lots of options for the kids to have a life-- it looks like a military base with pools and tree-lined residential streets where they could ride bikes and play. Because we have kids, I think I'd rather teach and live there than right in the city. Also, I am a wee bit more impressed with the school. They have unbelievable programs, like Global Citizenship Week. The pay is also better than NIST. However, you live and work with the same people. What if they suck? (Not a huge con, since it will only be two years; we could deal.)

So... there are now English and science jobs available at School #1, NIST. It's not like we'd automatically get these jobs, even though I'm talking like we would. They're not thrilled about taking on teachers with kids since they're reaching their limit of spaces for them. The science job looks like I might be biting off more than I could chew; it seems to be curriculum development and support for gifted and talented kids (which is not my strong suit-- my area of expertise is getting the slower kids up to speed). However, it's Thailand. Land of All New Primary Colors that we want to experience. That's where we want to go. Right?

It's strange how all that fantasy suddenly becomes deer-in-headlights when the possibility becomes real. When I told Nick about the English posting (translation: it's time to actually apply), we both kind of went wide-eyed and still. We didn't talk about it a lot. It is really scary.

Right now we're debating about applying at all. Would we really want those jobs if we got them? Should we hold out for ISB? Both schools have great reputations. If this is the last opportunity we might get to go to Thailand, should we take it?

A little something for my Brat friends

From the book "Home Sweet Anywhere" by Lynne Martin, a woman who sold her home to travel the world with her husband in their retirement.

"...[t]he friendships we were developing in our travels were different from those at home. Most relationships start from a situational basis: work, hobbies, school, or club encounters; some last, some don't. Certainly long-standing friendships offer the comfort of shared history. But on the road, there's almost an indefinable moment when we make a connection with people who are kindred spirits.It's a chemistry almost like love, a recognition that doesn't require deep exploration to discover. Meeting other travelers far from home, in whatever country it may be, creates an atmosphere where it's possible to cut to the bones of the friendship. There are no trappings or protocols in the way of just getting to know the person for the person's sake. I inevitably feel a pang of regret when we say goodbye to a new friend whose company we've enjoyed, because although we usually do stay in touch, and try to find ways to intersect as we move around the world, we're all living such fluid lives that it's hard to know if we'll find one another again."

Having dinner in California with a friend they'd met in Florence:

"We chatted about our experiences and shared our plans for the future. Our conversation somehow seemed easier and more natural than our talks with family and friends. Of course our family was interested in our adventure; however, it seemed hard for them to relate to our free-floating life, in which we talked about meeting someone for lunch in Berlin as casually as if we were meeting them in Los Angeles or San Luis Obispo. It began to dawn on us that we had fundamentally changed since our decision to live home-free. Our world view had become larger, and our place in it more fluid. As we talked with Judy, who had lived internationally for much longer, we realized that living home-free had unfettered us in more important ways than leaving pots and pans behind. We were much more intrepid, and felt completely comfortable about being in new situations, living in countries whose languages were unknown to us, finding friends to amuse and inform us. We had more confidence in our ability to be in the world, and it certainly took a lot more drama to make us upset nowadays."

This is who I feel like I was when I moved back to the states 23 years ago. I want that again, and I want that for my kids. My friend Katrina just moved to Oslo for a year and we talked about "ruining" our kids. Do we keep them in one place their whole lives, give them rock-solid stability and a hometown? Lifetime friendships that are actually conducted in person? Or do I open up the world to them, infecting them with the need to always search for more? I think the pros and cons are roughly equal, objectively anyway. For me, I need the latter.

Gulp!

 

Welp. There it is. 

Of course, there isn't an English job posted for this school yet. (Yet! I'm optimistic.) NIST is one of two schools in Bangkok that we're watching very closely. It's right in the middle of the city. The other one is about 10 miles outside of Bangkok, in a lush gated community full of expats. Both schools look like they have awesome facilities and have great real-life reviews online. Each has its own pros & cons which ultimately make them neck & neck for me.

Although we have been leaning more towards Thailand for so many reasons, the past few days here in New England have been chilly and rainy, making me absolutely ache for Europe. So when this job came up, I was a little tormented... My head says Thailand, but my heart says Europe. It's my heart. I have shed actual tears watching The Sound of Music and Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. I NEED to be in that place that my dad called "a life-sized Playmobil."

Because I am the kind of person who loves to plan ahead for everything, hypothetical or real (oh yes I did write my name with my boyfriends' last names in my notebooks' back pages), I came up with a solution. And now I really want jobs in Thailand. 

I can already hear my family laughing at this: I priced tickets from Boston to Bangkok, and found that it costs roughly the same (if not a little less) to break up the trip. We could fly from here to Munich, stay for a week or so (what? it would help our jet lag, right?), then continue on another airline to BKK*. And what airline has the cheapest flights to Munich? Oh, just Iceland Air, which offers layovers up to five days. Iceland is close to the top of my bucket list. A few days in Iceland, a few days in Munich, then onto the jungle for two years. 

*I don't know why I love this abbreviation so much.

Sign me up! I'm ready now! Come onnnn, NIST English job... 

I really haven't looked up apartments in both Munich and BKK. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course I have.

My Country ‘Tis of Thee

Conservatives: trigger warning. Anti-patriotism ahead.

I know this is going to make me sound like a Debbie Downer, but I have to confess that the pull of traveling isn’t the only reason I want to leave the country. It’s the push of the country itself. Maybe it’s because I’m a science teacher. Maybe I read too much politics. Maybe it’s because I know what else is out there, and I’ve read “if you don’t like it, GET OUT” screeds one too many times and have decided to do just that.

In no particular order, here are reasons I wish we could leave for good:

1. Helicopter Parenting and its sidekick, Internet Shaming. Now that people women are actually getting arrested for leaving their kids in cars or at parks, I want no part of this madness. Our culture has been moving away from the supportive community model and it’s turning into an environment of paranoia where everyone is a creep. The internet has provided a place where parents can one-up each other over who is being more protective (and therefore a better parent, natch). The expectations and norms are starting to choke me, and seriously stifle the growth of an entire generation of kids. The irony is, it defies logic and facts.  Click on that link. Click it! I’ve seen people just about plug their ears and “la-la-la-la” about these statistics.         

2. Few government services and crappy public transportation. I cannot stand the every-man-for-himself attitude. Everyone is so isolated and suspicious. Is it a coincidence that so many people in this country are depressed? This is a country where some think people should be left to die if they don’t have insurance. 

 3. There’s so little appreciation for art. For that matter, there’s little appreciation for life. My daughter’s elementary school gives them 15 minutes for lunch and 15 minutes for recess. All day. That is criminal. I wrote a letter to the superintendent about it and was promptly ignored. We bemoan the childhood obesity epidemic, but do nothing about it. Science and history are not taught in her school. She’s apparently lucky to have any “specials” (art, music, etc.) at all; many kids in the US have none. They sit and do reading and math, reading and math, all day long to try to “catch up” to other schools around the world that actually let their children play. We can’t make that simple Point A to Point B connection? And again, is it any wonder that so many kids are medicated for ADD/ADHD? They can’t sit still because their little bodies need to move.

However, this doesn't stop our sports practices from being six hours long. I've driven home at 8:30 pm and seen a little league team playing a game that late, out in the rain. What is wrong with us?

4. Vilification of teachers and public schools. Yes, let’s cut more funding, that’ll make ‘em improve.

For me, American culture has boiled down to this:

Not working hard enough. Not exercising enough. Not doing enough with/for your kids. Sleeping is for the lazy. Health care is a luxury, nobody deserves anything, everyone is so entitled. The poor are just lazy. Everyone is lazy. "Oh yeah? You worked 50 hours last week? Well boo-hoo, I worked 80!"

I am exhausted.

Tick... Tock. Tick... Tock.

It is really hard to motivate when everything is on hold. I could be, and should be, purging and Freecycling the contents of my house, running, or planning lessons in the subject I hope to be teaching next year (Geography). Instead, I’m doing a lot of sitting. Mulling. Ruminating. Dreaming about traveling, while both awake and asleep. Last night’s dream was interrupted by a truck blaring its horn at me to wake up and move ahead in traffic. It was a dream-within-a-dream that made me bolt straight up in bed to realize how frustratingly accurate it was. 

I cannot describe my hatred of our commute. I can only be grateful that it is helping me get over selling our home as my loathing of the traffic outgrows my love of the house. Changing jobs here is out of the question. I love my job more than any other I’ve ever had. The entire staff is on the same laid-back, happy wavelength. The administration is incredibly supportive. I have genuine affection for my co-workers. This job is a rare gem.

Which brings me to money: in an earlier post I mentioned the possibility of us leaving here for good. We did crunch the numbers, and there is no way we can do that if we ever want to retire. Ugh. I am already mourning having to come back after two years; the thought of it gives me an unpleasant twinge in my chest, but it is what it is. At the very least, we are residents of one of the best states in the country in many categories. Hopefully we can save enough money that we’ll be able to travel during subsequent summers. Right now our traveling is almost nil—and it IS nil if you take out family visits. When we’re no longer paying over $1100 per month for Sophie’s daycare, even at our current salaries we’ll be able to go again. 

My “where do I want to go” obsessions are as fickle as they come. Over the past two weeks, I have sunk my claws into several different locations, thinking “I have to go THERE it has to be THERE oh my god what if we don’t get jobs THERE because THAT’S WHERE I WANT TO GOOOOO.” I studied them on Google Earth. I looked up apartments. I calculated possible commuting distances. I scoped out possible running routes. I learned that so many of these schools are far enough out in the sticks that we’d need to get a car there, which we want to avoid. I did extra research on each school, which helped me take one school off the list when I discovered its teachers are currently striking for better wages and working conditions (!). I found out that another school is broken up into three campuses, so our girls would be going to school across town from where we’d teach. If one of our biggest selling points to them is that we’ll all be in the same school, then that one’s out too. So here is my current  list of Most Wanted Schools, in no particular order:

1. Vienna. There are two schools there, both accessible by public transportation. Great city, German-speaking (a big plus for me). The only downside would be that it wouldn’t be a great money-saving salary.

2. Prague. Centrally located to Europe. My closest friend describes Prague as a cross between Germany and Russia, both places I deeply love. Biggest pro? The potential to save tens of thousands. Con: it's in the 'burbs of Prague, which look just as vanilla as they do here.

3.  Paris. I never had much interest in Paris; for all my years in Europe I only changed trains there once. I don’t know what has changed my mind. Maybe looking up its location in the city? Not much money-saving potential, but it would be two years of living in beauty. Cramped, expensive beauty. We could drown our claustrophobia in low-budget wine, bread and cheese.

4. Luxembourg. Perfect mix of central location, the school is in the city (no car!), and the salary is good. I just get a happy vibe from that place whenever I’m researching it.

5. Rabat, Morocco. Morocco was one of my top choices when this teaching-abroad idea was in the fetal stage. Now that I’ve looked at all the school locations there, many of them are way out in the scary booneys. Rabat’s school is central and the town looks incredible. A bonus? A Southern California climate, much cooler than the rest of the country due to its coastal location. Dry sunshine all year. The food! And I have fallen hard over the beautiful pictures of Rabat. 

There are also a few other schools in rural Bavaria and Switzerland (this is the picture that haunts me when I think of Switzerland) that I wouldn’t turn down, but that was the list. There were five places, the end. 

Then… I got Taya’s e-mail. 

Thailand was, for a few days, where we were both convinced we were going. It was our Number One Choice, to the exclusion of anything else. I had the map memorized, sights researched, vacations planned, greetings practiced. Then Nick watched an episode of “Vice” about the police state there. I didn’t see it, but it really spooked him. He said "there's no way" on more than one occasion.

I had written my friend Taya to ask her about Thailand since she knows it well and has said many times that it’s her favorite country. She wrote back an enthusiastic gush that sold me all over again. Now, Thailand is back on the list. The downside is that it’s not Europe. There are huge benefits to living there, like the travel opportunities, the food, and the money we’ll make. We will save enough money that after we return, we’ll be able to spend a few summers in Europe anyway, so it would eventually be a win-win. We certainly couldn’t do the opposite, to live in Vienna for two years and then afford to go to Thailand on vacation. I am apprehensive about the heat, having been to Ghana where the heat kind of horrified me with its power. But the upside would be that I’d be ready to return to cooler weather after the two years, and maybe I’d be less sad about having to come back. We’re very excited to experience something almost at the polar opposite of the globe from where we are now, both geographically and culturally. All of this dullness I feel about life right now… I feel like Thailand would wake me up abruptly. 

I’ve been trying to write this disjointed post for eleven hours now, so I will have to write more about that dullness next time.

Impatiently Pouting

I am grouchy with impatience. I want to feel like we're making progress, moving forward. Most of the stuff in the house, we can't Freecycle or sell until the spring. The job offers aren't really going to happen for another 3-4 months. Some have been trickling in, but it's a trickle. The job updates e-mail comes in every night at 5 pm, and it's like opening a tiny gift with a few clicks. Most of the jobs available now have been in places we're not interested in, like China and the Middle East. A few came up last night for Sudan. I clicked on the school's link, curious about what they'd have to offer to get people to teach there, and the answer is everything. Salary, huge housing allowance, laptop, even a car. They had to emphasize that it was a safe place to live. I wish them luck, but I think I'm all set with a place where "hacking by machete" is a top cause of death.

I spend any free time at school on Google Earth, looking at school locations and trying to imagine where we'd live (I am so glad that my lessons are time-tested enough to just pull them out and go). One of my top considerations is living somewhere we wouldn't need a car. I love the idea of taking public transportation to work, and this is reinforced for me twice a day when I'm stuck in my 18-mile, hour-long commute. Yes, 18 miles... one hour. The traffic is mind-numbing.

In Germany last year, I met up with an old boyfriend of mine from high school who basically never left. Although he was as American as they come back when I knew him, he is a German citizen now, and even speaks English with a slight accent (because he's so used to speaking German) which blows my entire mind. He said something to me that stuck firm like the Sean Penn relief thing. He said he couldn't stand the car culture of the US. You have to drive everywhere. When he comes back to visit his parents, within a few days he and his wife will look at each other, usually in the car stuck in traffic, and say "I want to go home." He doesn't own a car. He says that he likes the idea that he can walk out his front door to the bus stop, and from there he can go anywhere in the world. I suppose this is also true with a car, but there's the issue of parking and insurance and BLECCH. We're selling our cars when we leave and we sincerely hope that we won't need to buy another for many years.

I think about this every day as we creep, creep, creep forward on our way to or from work. Car culture. It is soul-sucking and exhausting, and by the time we get home we're irritated and tired. Even half of the ads on TV and radio-- and the most shouty, annoying ones-- are car ads.

Begin at the beginning

I think it started with “Mamma Mia.” Yeah, the movie. 

Obviously the seed had been there for a long time; since 1982, to be exact. That was the year we moved to England. We spent the next nine years in Europe. When I left at age 19, I cried all the way to the airport in Munich. The cab driver said, “But you’re going home!” I blubbered, “No, this is my home.” I didn’t return for 22 years. 

Cut to 2008, in the movie theater. It was a beautiful and fun movie, of course, but that’s not what was on my mind. How did she live on that Greek island for so many years? Where did she have her baby? Where did she get her groceries? Did she have a bank? Who were her friends? When they showed her daughter’s school picture, I thought, where did she go to school? Was it on the island or a boarding school on the mainland? 

How can I do that?

2013: I was awarded a trip to Vienna for a science conference. The whole ten days I was in Europe, I was weepy and sick to my stomach with excitement and emotion. By the end of the trip, I knew I had to come back. I had to find a way to make it happen. There had to be a way. 

And that’s where I am now. 

A few months ago we approached our principal and superintendent to ask for permission for a two-year sabbatical to teach abroad. The only thing we asked was that we have jobs when we return. They said yes, and were actually enthusiastic about it! The idea is that we come back and finish out the minimum years required to access our state pensions, then go back to teach abroad for the rest of our careers. This will just be a break in the… I hate to use the word “monotony,” but I have to be honest. That’s what it is. 

Last spring, I had a moment in class where I wasn’t sure if I’d taught a particular concept yet. I looked over at my aide (who had been in my class for several years) and asked her if I had. She couldn’t remember either. I looked it up, and it was still weeks away. That incident bothered me. The years are starting to run together in one big blob of sameness, we have reached the point of total comfort, and that’s when the time starts to go too fast. That’s when you look around one day and go, “Holy crap. I’m 65. And this has been my life.” I have never wanted that to happen. I just got lucky enough that I caught it midway. They say life is a journey, not a destination… Well, we reached a destination years ago—fantastic house we’ve customized ourselves; living in a state we love, in a great neighborhood, near family; two fantastic daughters; satisfying jobs-- and it’s perfectly lovely, but it’s also perfectly uninteresting. I understand how spoiled that makes me sound, but… It’s like the end of a story. 

I’m only 42. I’m not ready for the end of our story. 

I am the kind of person who does things. I have an idea, and I say, “Well—why not?” And I try to make it happen. As I get older, I realize just how little there is to lose—and how much there is to gain—by DOING these things. A wise person once told me that I’d regret more the things I didn’t do rather than the things I did, and he was so right. Sometimes there are mistakes, like the time I renovated our kitchen pantry and drilled a whole line of holes into a drain pipe from the shower upstairs. It flooded our basement and cost over a grand to fix. But the mistakes are just part of the story; usually they’re the funny parts. 

So here we are. We are working with an agency that hires teachers for schools around the world. It’s still too early for us to know where we’re going to go; we have a few months before these schools know what jobs will be open for next year. To say that I am obsessed is an understatement. I am constantly Googling (or Google Earthing) potential places. Where do I want to go the most? Prague? Switzerland? Thailand? Chile? All of the above?

Since we got permission for the two years and activated our applications with the agency, we’ve gotten a lot more information on each school. It appears that some of the salaries are very generous compared to the costs of living, and we can expect to save quite a bit of money in most places. Knowing this has kind of changed the game a little. If the estimated savings is truly what they claim, it might be more than that state pension we return for. If it is… do we still need to come back? And would it make things easier to just sell our house instead of rent it out? We’re crunching the numbers now, and we still have the safety net of our jobs back in two years. But. There is a possibility that we could go for good. Now that… THAT is a life. Now we’re talking. It would be, literally, a journey. 

Selling that beloved house is going to be a killer. We’d sell the house and almost everything in it, and move with little more than suitcases. As I look around my house, I try to steel myself for the difficulty of selling meaningful possessions. But one of the things propelling me forward is something I read in a Sean Penn interview a few months ago. His house had burned down a few years ago, and he lost everything. He said that there was an odd sense of relief when that happened. Relief. It keeps surfacing in my mind. Do I even know what’s in that trunk at the foot of my bed? If I got rid of all those clothes in my closet that are waiting for me to drop ten pounds, would I even remember what was there? Would I miss all of my books? The furniture that I bought when I got my first “adult” paychecks? Yes. Yes, I probably will. Will I miss them enough to turn around and stay here with them, giving up my dream? No.  

It’s terrifying. The details are scary. Health care. Banks. Cell phones. Visas. The day we say goodbye and take those steps through airport security. Just thinking about that moment makes me feel cold with fear. 

This summer, Nick and I went ziplining in Vermont. I learned something about myself. I have a slight, healthy fear of heights. As I climbed through the course, I figured out a trick: focus on what’s in front of you, don’t look down, and don’t think. Just DO. I did best when I did nothing to psych myself up to step off that platform and dangle my legs 100 feet off the ground. No deep breaths, no counting to three, no pep talks. I’d hook in, grab the handle, and go. So far, that’s working everywhere else, too.