Yes, I know that Thanksgiving was a few days ago. But I feel like we should be grateful all year long, and not just on one November day before we head out shopping for more stuff. I've always thought that the timing of Thanksgiving was odd. It comes
about a month before Christmas, where the focus is on material things
and getting exactly what you want. How can the frenzy of Black Friday
come after a day meant to give thanks for how much we already have? I
don't understand it. It makes my heart hurt, it truly does. We all have
so much to be grateful for. Please let's act like it .One of my goals for the next year is to really be conscious of the
amazing opportunities I've been given and not take anything- or anyone-
in my life for granted. To start off, here are some things I'm grateful
for right now.
My family, both immediate and extended. First of all, I am blessed to have parents and grandparents who are still married to their original spouse. I've seen my friends dragged between homes and torn between spending certain holidays with Mom or Dad, and it breaks my heart a little. I have two pretty fantastic sisters who I love dearly. I also have a fabulous group of cousins with whom I can reminisce about the silly games we played as kids, and who are all growing up into creative, responsible, successful adults. And finally, last weekend while we were down in Nebraska to have a memorial for and bury my grandpa, I experienced a whole other set of family: my mom's cousins, aunts, and uncles. Even though we rarely see each other, many of them knew who I was, despite my not always being able to return the favor. Most of them knew about my time in Prague, and asked me what my plans were now. While it was sometimes overwhelming, spending that time with them was wonderful.
My friends. Even though it's a cliche, the saying 'Friends are the family we choose for ourselves' is 100% true. I have a great family, but I would be lost without my friends. I'm not the best at staying in touch with people when we're far apart (and even sometimes when we're in the same city), but just knowing they're there if I need them is enough. I have friends from childhood, middle school, high school, college, Scotland, and Prague, and I share a significant/memorable portion of my life with each of them. I truly have some of the greatest friends in the world.
My job. No, I don't have a teaching job in some exotic location yet. But I do have a job at Barnes & Noble, and although it's much less exciting than Prague, or China, or wherever I might end up, it does give me a reason to change out of my pajamas and get out of the house. I've only been there a couple weeks, but I'm confident I'll be happy there for the next month to six weeks before I (hopefully) have somewhere else to go. The extra money doesn't hurt either.
Those are the big things. I am also grateful to have a myriad of smaller, but no less important blessings. Like a shower head I don't need to hold myself. My own bed, complete with teddy bear. Books. To live a block away from one of the greatest rivers in the world, along what I think is one of the most beautiful stretches of that river. That I'll get a white Christmas (fingers crossed). That I have a dryer. That I have the freedom to decide where I want to go next. For a warm coat, and shoes that keep my feet dry. For having had the opportunities that I've had to travel, meet new people, and learn new things. For family and friends who don't think I'm crazy for wanting to explore the world.
It would be impossible for me to list out everything I've been blessed with, but even trying is refreshing and eye-opening. This holiday season, and always, let's try to uphold an attitude of gratefulness and not get too caught up in the maelstrom of video games, TVs, toys, movies, clothing, etc the world is throwing at us. Disclaimer: I enjoy giving and receiving gifts as much as the next person, but it's important to keep everything in perspective. That's my two cents worth.
01 December 2013
05 November 2013
For Now
Well, I've been home for just over a week. After 3 planes, 4 airports, and 1 train, I arrived back in Minneapolis 20 hours after leaving my flat in Prague. As my mom drove home through the midnight dark and I saw once again the familiar sights of my hometown, I knew I had made the right decision. I was so glad to be home.
I still am happy I'm here, a week later. I miss Prague immensely, and find myself daydreaming about moving back, but for now, I need to be home. Since returning to Minneapolis, I've spent time with my family- my sister especially, my grandma, and my best friend. I've been welcomed back into the fold of the church I grew up in, even resumed my old nursery job. I've grown reacquainted to a house without my babycat. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my substantial bookshelf filled with my books- a luxury I've missed most sincerely since I left. I've wandered along the Mississippi river, a very different river than the Vltava, and I must admit, much more beloved. I've raked leaves, done some gardening, rearranged furniture, and climbed ladders to wash the second floor windows before replacing the screens with storms. I've read voraciously for hours without interruption. I've done laundry with the benefit of a dryer, and eaten a week's worth of food without needing to go to the grocery store once. In short, I've been at home, enjoying the freedom of having few, if any obligations, and the knowledge that I am where I'm needed most right now.
The irony is that, now that I've come home to where my roots go deep, I'm more adrift than I was halfway around the world. In Prague I felt like I had to do things. I had to go to work, because I needed the money. I needed to go to the grocery store, because I needed to eat and there was no other option. I got used to being independent, and I liked it a lot. As much as I love my bed and my bookshelves, they can't make up for the loss of living my own life.
It probably won't surprise you to learn, therefore, that I'm getting restless. Maybe restless isn't the right word, not yet. Rather, I'm beginning to notice the symptoms of restlessness, and the shadow of an itch that won't go away until I do. I've literally spent hours online looking at TEFL job listings, and yes, apartments just in case I decide to move back to Prague. The entire world is open to me, but that's also terribly intimidating. Just think about it. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? It's one of those questions that are impossible to answer, like 'what's your favorite book?' or 'what do you want to do with your life?' When you're spoiled for choice, it doesn't make the decision easier, it makes it harder.
The idea of going back to Prague is both very appealing and frustrating at the same time. I'd be back in a beautiful city that I'm familiar with, and at least the language would be foreign in a recognizable way. I'd have a community of people to surround myself with, and probably, a job to go back to. But there's so much more world out there to explore, and Prague, as enticing as it is, didn't satisfy me before, so maybe my daydreams are more based on a longing for familiarity within my adventures. Maybe I'll end up in Thailand or China. I've thought about Russia. Sonja is voting for Brazil.
So that's my life. I'm doing nothing, and enjoying it, for the most part. I don't have any more of a plan than I did before leaving Prague. I'm anticipating that I'll be here through Christmas and then hopefully have something lined up so I can leave around New Year's, but that's complete speculation at this point. For now, I'm going to enjoy the opportunities I have right now both in being home, and in imagining where I could be two months from now. It's definitely good to be home.
I still am happy I'm here, a week later. I miss Prague immensely, and find myself daydreaming about moving back, but for now, I need to be home. Since returning to Minneapolis, I've spent time with my family- my sister especially, my grandma, and my best friend. I've been welcomed back into the fold of the church I grew up in, even resumed my old nursery job. I've grown reacquainted to a house without my babycat. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my substantial bookshelf filled with my books- a luxury I've missed most sincerely since I left. I've wandered along the Mississippi river, a very different river than the Vltava, and I must admit, much more beloved. I've raked leaves, done some gardening, rearranged furniture, and climbed ladders to wash the second floor windows before replacing the screens with storms. I've read voraciously for hours without interruption. I've done laundry with the benefit of a dryer, and eaten a week's worth of food without needing to go to the grocery store once. In short, I've been at home, enjoying the freedom of having few, if any obligations, and the knowledge that I am where I'm needed most right now.
The irony is that, now that I've come home to where my roots go deep, I'm more adrift than I was halfway around the world. In Prague I felt like I had to do things. I had to go to work, because I needed the money. I needed to go to the grocery store, because I needed to eat and there was no other option. I got used to being independent, and I liked it a lot. As much as I love my bed and my bookshelves, they can't make up for the loss of living my own life.
It probably won't surprise you to learn, therefore, that I'm getting restless. Maybe restless isn't the right word, not yet. Rather, I'm beginning to notice the symptoms of restlessness, and the shadow of an itch that won't go away until I do. I've literally spent hours online looking at TEFL job listings, and yes, apartments just in case I decide to move back to Prague. The entire world is open to me, but that's also terribly intimidating. Just think about it. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? It's one of those questions that are impossible to answer, like 'what's your favorite book?' or 'what do you want to do with your life?' When you're spoiled for choice, it doesn't make the decision easier, it makes it harder.
The idea of going back to Prague is both very appealing and frustrating at the same time. I'd be back in a beautiful city that I'm familiar with, and at least the language would be foreign in a recognizable way. I'd have a community of people to surround myself with, and probably, a job to go back to. But there's so much more world out there to explore, and Prague, as enticing as it is, didn't satisfy me before, so maybe my daydreams are more based on a longing for familiarity within my adventures. Maybe I'll end up in Thailand or China. I've thought about Russia. Sonja is voting for Brazil.
So that's my life. I'm doing nothing, and enjoying it, for the most part. I don't have any more of a plan than I did before leaving Prague. I'm anticipating that I'll be here through Christmas and then hopefully have something lined up so I can leave around New Year's, but that's complete speculation at this point. For now, I'm going to enjoy the opportunities I have right now both in being home, and in imagining where I could be two months from now. It's definitely good to be home.
17 October 2013
East or West
It's been a rough week. Since deciding to leave Prague I've been looking at job possibilities around the world, trying to figure out what's coming next. Last week, I set up an interview with a company that provides English teachers for private schools in Istanbul. The day of the interview I left school early because I had a massive headache, my entire body ached, I was chilled, and a little lightheaded. Not exactly the best condition for an interview. But it went ok, and I was invited to make a video outlining my background, why I wanted to teach in Turkey, and my classroom management strategies. So I did, and I sent it off Thursday morning, asking that they get back to me by Friday afternoon. Because here's the thing: the start date for the next intake of teachers? 21 October. Less than two weeks away.
I didn't even have to wait a day. Thursday afternoon there was an email in my inbox congratulating me on being accepted for a placement in Istanbul. I was, however, unsure that I was going to take it. First of all, 10 days is a very short amount of time to prepare to go to a brand new country to start a brand new job about which I knew very little. Also, I need time to organize myself mentally for any massive life change such as this would be, and I didn't know that 10 days would be sufficient. Secondly, I didn't want to jump into this job just because I was in a time crunch and needed somewhere to go. If I really wanted to go to Turkey and commit myself to this, then great, but if I was only excited about it because it meant having a job...well, not so much. Finally, my mental health has not been at its peak recently. I've been stressed out, first about my visa, and then about what I was going to do after leaving Prague, I took a hit with Papa dying, and I've been sick pretty much constantly since starting work. I didn't think my decision-making capabilities were at their best. So while I was excited about the possibility of Istanbul, I was unwilling to launch myself into Turkey quite yet.
I had also recently come to the conclusion that going home would not be the disappointment I had thought it would be. In the few days leading up to the Istanbul offer, I was really craving home, and not just because I was sick. Going home would allow me to rethink my priorities, center my thoughts and surround myself with a loving, familiar environment after what has been a very difficult six weeks. So, following the receipt of the job offer, my choices were: go to Istanbul for 8 1/2 months or go home.
Such was the draw of both possibilities that I spent days agonizing over my decision. I'd vacillate wildly between them, one moment thinking that Istanbul would be perfect and going home seemed like I was giving up on this life that I had wanted for so long. The next moment, I would think I was crazy for even considering moving to Turkey with 10 days notice, no housing, incredibly limited knowledge of the culture and no knowledge of the language. At one point, I got so far as telling my family I was going to go to Turkey, which was followed not even an hour later by a breakdown precipitated by the labyrinthine workings of the Czech postal system (don't ask), and I was no longer sure.
To make a long story short (too late!), I spent the entire weekend trying to decide which direction I was going to go, literally and figuratively. I talked to Mike, my friend from TEFL who is currently in Istanbul on the same program I had applied to. Hearing from him was super helpful, and I never could have reached any sort of decision without his input, so thanks Mike! I talked to my family. I talked to some friends, near and far. And I was still miles away from anything making sense.
Then, Monday morning I woke up, and things had kind of fallen into place in my brain. I spent the day reflecting, and decided I felt good about my inclination. So after getting home from work, I Skyped with my mom and told her what I had decided: I'm going home. I'm going home to sleep in my own bed, to explore streets I could walk down with my eyes shut, to remind myself there will always be a home for me somewhere. Home can be anywhere, and I hope to experience many different versions in many different settings. Minneapolis will always be home. I'm ready for home.
One of my biggest concerns about going home is feeling like I've somehow failed myself. Feeling like I let myself down by not being capable enough to make Prague work, and not brave enough to venture to Istanbul. Feeling like the adventure I've wanted for so long is ending, without any concrete plans to keep it on track. I can't turn those feelings off. But I can try to put a different face on them. I wrote in my last post that I was ready for the next step, whatever it was. And this is it. I've come to the conclusion that in order to move forward, I need to first move back. Trying to push myself into a new environment at this point would probably not be very healthy. I feel like this goes along with my horses out of the gate metaphor: going to Istanbul now could easily burn me out and send me back frustrated and fed up. In order to maintain my dream of living abroad, I need to take things a little more slowly and make decisions deliberately, not because I feel desperate and need someplace to go.
And I haven't failed. I did what I came to Prague to do. I got my TEFL certificate, a document which will allow me to travel basically anywhere in the world anytime I want. I made a life for myself in a foreign country, regardless of how long it lasted. I made wonderful friends who I look forward to visiting all over the world. I learned mountains about myself, and I grew in innumerable ways. I haven't failed.
As excited as I am to be back in Minneapolis and live a life I understand, I don't want it to last forever. Growth happens when you don't understand things, when you have to work for them to make sense. My going home now doesn't mean I won't ever leave again. I will. My time there will be a respite, a sabbatical before I add more stamps to my passport; it will give me a chance to be intentional about the next part of my life. I'll be able to explore different kinds of options and think outside the box. And when the time does come for me to leave again I'll have a better idea of the challenges I'll face moving abroad and will be better equipped to deal with them.
I'm not done wandering. The currents have pushed my ship back into port for now, but soon enough I'll be back on the water, the wind in my face, racing with arms outstretched towards the horizon.
I didn't even have to wait a day. Thursday afternoon there was an email in my inbox congratulating me on being accepted for a placement in Istanbul. I was, however, unsure that I was going to take it. First of all, 10 days is a very short amount of time to prepare to go to a brand new country to start a brand new job about which I knew very little. Also, I need time to organize myself mentally for any massive life change such as this would be, and I didn't know that 10 days would be sufficient. Secondly, I didn't want to jump into this job just because I was in a time crunch and needed somewhere to go. If I really wanted to go to Turkey and commit myself to this, then great, but if I was only excited about it because it meant having a job...well, not so much. Finally, my mental health has not been at its peak recently. I've been stressed out, first about my visa, and then about what I was going to do after leaving Prague, I took a hit with Papa dying, and I've been sick pretty much constantly since starting work. I didn't think my decision-making capabilities were at their best. So while I was excited about the possibility of Istanbul, I was unwilling to launch myself into Turkey quite yet.
I had also recently come to the conclusion that going home would not be the disappointment I had thought it would be. In the few days leading up to the Istanbul offer, I was really craving home, and not just because I was sick. Going home would allow me to rethink my priorities, center my thoughts and surround myself with a loving, familiar environment after what has been a very difficult six weeks. So, following the receipt of the job offer, my choices were: go to Istanbul for 8 1/2 months or go home.
Such was the draw of both possibilities that I spent days agonizing over my decision. I'd vacillate wildly between them, one moment thinking that Istanbul would be perfect and going home seemed like I was giving up on this life that I had wanted for so long. The next moment, I would think I was crazy for even considering moving to Turkey with 10 days notice, no housing, incredibly limited knowledge of the culture and no knowledge of the language. At one point, I got so far as telling my family I was going to go to Turkey, which was followed not even an hour later by a breakdown precipitated by the labyrinthine workings of the Czech postal system (don't ask), and I was no longer sure.
To make a long story short (too late!), I spent the entire weekend trying to decide which direction I was going to go, literally and figuratively. I talked to Mike, my friend from TEFL who is currently in Istanbul on the same program I had applied to. Hearing from him was super helpful, and I never could have reached any sort of decision without his input, so thanks Mike! I talked to my family. I talked to some friends, near and far. And I was still miles away from anything making sense.
Then, Monday morning I woke up, and things had kind of fallen into place in my brain. I spent the day reflecting, and decided I felt good about my inclination. So after getting home from work, I Skyped with my mom and told her what I had decided: I'm going home. I'm going home to sleep in my own bed, to explore streets I could walk down with my eyes shut, to remind myself there will always be a home for me somewhere. Home can be anywhere, and I hope to experience many different versions in many different settings. Minneapolis will always be home. I'm ready for home.
One of my biggest concerns about going home is feeling like I've somehow failed myself. Feeling like I let myself down by not being capable enough to make Prague work, and not brave enough to venture to Istanbul. Feeling like the adventure I've wanted for so long is ending, without any concrete plans to keep it on track. I can't turn those feelings off. But I can try to put a different face on them. I wrote in my last post that I was ready for the next step, whatever it was. And this is it. I've come to the conclusion that in order to move forward, I need to first move back. Trying to push myself into a new environment at this point would probably not be very healthy. I feel like this goes along with my horses out of the gate metaphor: going to Istanbul now could easily burn me out and send me back frustrated and fed up. In order to maintain my dream of living abroad, I need to take things a little more slowly and make decisions deliberately, not because I feel desperate and need someplace to go.
And I haven't failed. I did what I came to Prague to do. I got my TEFL certificate, a document which will allow me to travel basically anywhere in the world anytime I want. I made a life for myself in a foreign country, regardless of how long it lasted. I made wonderful friends who I look forward to visiting all over the world. I learned mountains about myself, and I grew in innumerable ways. I haven't failed.
As excited as I am to be back in Minneapolis and live a life I understand, I don't want it to last forever. Growth happens when you don't understand things, when you have to work for them to make sense. My going home now doesn't mean I won't ever leave again. I will. My time there will be a respite, a sabbatical before I add more stamps to my passport; it will give me a chance to be intentional about the next part of my life. I'll be able to explore different kinds of options and think outside the box. And when the time does come for me to leave again I'll have a better idea of the challenges I'll face moving abroad and will be better equipped to deal with them.
I'm not done wandering. The currents have pushed my ship back into port for now, but soon enough I'll be back on the water, the wind in my face, racing with arms outstretched towards the horizon.
06 October 2013
Questioning
You remember how I said about a month ago that I had this huge feeling of assurance that I was where I needed to be, and everything was coming together to make this happen? Well...things have changed. Prague hasn't really been making me happy. It's not that I'm unhappy; things here are fine. But fine is kind of boring. Minneapolis was fine. If fine was what I wanted, I would have stayed there. Fine is not what I want. I want much more than fine. I want to be happy. I want to be amazed every single day, and thankful for challenges I am faced with. As much as I hate to say it, I've grown a little blase about Prague. Aside from the language difference, and the obvious things like absence of family, etc., there really is not much difference between my life here and life in Minneapolis. Prague has ceased to astound me and become just another beautiful European city, one which I am privileged to know, but not one to which I feel a strong tie. Our acquaintance has cooled, and we've both realized we're not going to become best friends. We'll remain on good terms, maybe even catch up every so often, but we just don't click in the way good friends do.
While it would be easy to blame these feelings of uneasiness and discontent on the fact that my grandfather just died and I want nothing more than to be at home right now, it's simply not true. I would love to go home: to see my family and friends, drink in the trees along the river that should be starting to turn color just about now, walk down Lake Street, have dinner at True Thai, go to church, experience all the comforting elements of my life to this point. But I know that were I to be there for more than about two weeks, I would start to get restless again. My palms would itch to feel centuries old buildings, my lungs would burn for different air. My heart and my head would wander the world, and I would never be content until I satisfied those desires. It's not a longing for home that's making me reconsider my long term plans.
Here's what is:
1) Speaking practically for a moment, I'm having the hardest time pulling my visa together. And none of it is my fault. In order to get my trade license, I need my landlord's signature notarized on several documents. I got them to her about three weeks ago, and after pushing back one deadline a week later, I haven't heard from her at all. Had I been able to function at a normal level last week, I would have thought about asking after the forms, but honestly, going to school was a stretch, and I was not up to dealing with cranky landlords and Czech bureaucracy. Not even a little bit. So I didn't. It didn't even cross my mind. So now I have one month left on my tourist visa, and still no paperwork to even get the process started. This whole situation has grown simply ridiculous, and the utter absurdity of the delays and number of appointments I've made without anything to show for them makes me think it just isn't going to happen.
2) Moving away from the practical aspects now, I just don't feel challenged here. Not mentally, spiritually, or intellectually. Bureaucratically maybe, but that has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with a bunch of strangers running the country who care nothing about me; so I refuse to incorporate them into my decision making process more than absolutely necessary. I came here wanting to prove to myself that I could do something crazy. That I could move to a foreign country on my own, without a real plan. I did that. And, as far as things that are under my control are concerned, it would be possible for me to stay here indefinitely. I have a job and I have a place to live, both of which I found entirely on my own. It is possible for me to be a self-sufficient person. Prague was the perfect place for all of this. But now I'm feeling like I want to move on. Prague was a wonderful first step, and I will never regret my choice to come here. However, a first step implies there's other steps to follow. I want those other steps. I want to question things, to have my jaw drop, to have stars in my eyes, to feel something about the things I'm experiencing, good or bad. So far, the biggest cultural differences I've noticed are that Czechs don't like wearing shoes inside. And that they like their beer. Not exactly groundbreaking. There's so much world to explore, and I'm worried that staying in Prague is only scratching the surface. It's safe. I'm ready to take a chance on something bigger.
To be fair to Prague, I think my expectations were perhaps unreasonably high. I wanted so much from this city, and had built up the experience so much in my mind both positively and negatively that there was no way any place could live up to them. And if falling short was an inevitability, I'm glad it fell short on the negative aspects of my imagination. If I was going to be dissatisfied, I'm thankful I was dissatisfied with how easy it ended up being. I'd much rather start slow and give myself the opportunity to pick up speed than jump out of the gate going full-tilt and burn myself out. I'm certainly not burned out. I want more.
I don't have anything like a plan for what's coming next. I've been exploring some possibilities, but nothing's set in stone, or even sand. At best, I'm starting to dig. I'm going to need to figure something out soon though, because if the end of the month rolls around and I don't have anywhere to go, I'm screwed. Worse comes to worst though, I'll go home and figure things out from there. This is all scary, but strangely, not as scary as coming over here in the first place was. There's no way for me to know for sure if I'm going to be happy in any given place, but I do know that I have the ability to change things. I have the ability to act on my own behalf and accomplish things for myself. That's why I'm leaving Prague. I'll miss so much about this city: the wonderful friends I've made, the tree-lined streets leading to glorious cathedrals, the vibrant kids who've made me smile when I wanted nothing more than to cry. I'm going to miss them, but I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for my next big adventure.
While it would be easy to blame these feelings of uneasiness and discontent on the fact that my grandfather just died and I want nothing more than to be at home right now, it's simply not true. I would love to go home: to see my family and friends, drink in the trees along the river that should be starting to turn color just about now, walk down Lake Street, have dinner at True Thai, go to church, experience all the comforting elements of my life to this point. But I know that were I to be there for more than about two weeks, I would start to get restless again. My palms would itch to feel centuries old buildings, my lungs would burn for different air. My heart and my head would wander the world, and I would never be content until I satisfied those desires. It's not a longing for home that's making me reconsider my long term plans.
Here's what is:
1) Speaking practically for a moment, I'm having the hardest time pulling my visa together. And none of it is my fault. In order to get my trade license, I need my landlord's signature notarized on several documents. I got them to her about three weeks ago, and after pushing back one deadline a week later, I haven't heard from her at all. Had I been able to function at a normal level last week, I would have thought about asking after the forms, but honestly, going to school was a stretch, and I was not up to dealing with cranky landlords and Czech bureaucracy. Not even a little bit. So I didn't. It didn't even cross my mind. So now I have one month left on my tourist visa, and still no paperwork to even get the process started. This whole situation has grown simply ridiculous, and the utter absurdity of the delays and number of appointments I've made without anything to show for them makes me think it just isn't going to happen.
2) Moving away from the practical aspects now, I just don't feel challenged here. Not mentally, spiritually, or intellectually. Bureaucratically maybe, but that has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with a bunch of strangers running the country who care nothing about me; so I refuse to incorporate them into my decision making process more than absolutely necessary. I came here wanting to prove to myself that I could do something crazy. That I could move to a foreign country on my own, without a real plan. I did that. And, as far as things that are under my control are concerned, it would be possible for me to stay here indefinitely. I have a job and I have a place to live, both of which I found entirely on my own. It is possible for me to be a self-sufficient person. Prague was the perfect place for all of this. But now I'm feeling like I want to move on. Prague was a wonderful first step, and I will never regret my choice to come here. However, a first step implies there's other steps to follow. I want those other steps. I want to question things, to have my jaw drop, to have stars in my eyes, to feel something about the things I'm experiencing, good or bad. So far, the biggest cultural differences I've noticed are that Czechs don't like wearing shoes inside. And that they like their beer. Not exactly groundbreaking. There's so much world to explore, and I'm worried that staying in Prague is only scratching the surface. It's safe. I'm ready to take a chance on something bigger.
To be fair to Prague, I think my expectations were perhaps unreasonably high. I wanted so much from this city, and had built up the experience so much in my mind both positively and negatively that there was no way any place could live up to them. And if falling short was an inevitability, I'm glad it fell short on the negative aspects of my imagination. If I was going to be dissatisfied, I'm thankful I was dissatisfied with how easy it ended up being. I'd much rather start slow and give myself the opportunity to pick up speed than jump out of the gate going full-tilt and burn myself out. I'm certainly not burned out. I want more.
I don't have anything like a plan for what's coming next. I've been exploring some possibilities, but nothing's set in stone, or even sand. At best, I'm starting to dig. I'm going to need to figure something out soon though, because if the end of the month rolls around and I don't have anywhere to go, I'm screwed. Worse comes to worst though, I'll go home and figure things out from there. This is all scary, but strangely, not as scary as coming over here in the first place was. There's no way for me to know for sure if I'm going to be happy in any given place, but I do know that I have the ability to change things. I have the ability to act on my own behalf and accomplish things for myself. That's why I'm leaving Prague. I'll miss so much about this city: the wonderful friends I've made, the tree-lined streets leading to glorious cathedrals, the vibrant kids who've made me smile when I wanted nothing more than to cry. I'm going to miss them, but I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for my next big adventure.
01 October 2013
In Memorium
23 September, 2013
My Papa Fred died today. He left the world four days after his 87th birthday and just weeks shy of his and Grammy's 60th wedding anniversary. There's very little I can say to explain how much I'm going to miss him. Even in the last few years, as his dementia escalated and claimed his memories, his generous, loving soul shone through to the very end.
To me he will always be the man teaching me to play chess, hunched over the electronic board, letting me think that I was winning because I moved the pieces for the computer. He's the man who taught me pool, and ping-pong, and instilled in me my love for mini-golf. Canoeing brings me back to Holmes Lake with him and Grammy paddling to the beach with me in the middle chomping on Skittles. Going for a bike ride will always remind me of the trips we took on their tandem through Lincoln, following the exercise path and my making us stop at every single station, his groaning and complaining the whole time, which only hardened my resolve because I knew he was doing it to make me laugh.
He was the handyman, the builder, who gave me my beautiful three story dollhouse complete with balcony and shingled roof. He made my wooden rocking horse, and the chest for all my doll's clothes and accessories.
I don't remember him as overly demonstrative in his affection, but there was never any doubt in my mind that he loved my sisters and I deeply. He (and Grammy) were willing to drive 12 hours in one day and end up right back where they started in order to bring Lina or I down for our week in Nebraska. He tolerated (and paid for) our demands for endless trips to the frozen yogurt shop or Children's Museum and sat through many a childish movie at our behest.
I cannot imagine a childhood without him in it, and I cherish every memory I have of him. And despite my immense sense of loss for his physical presence I know that in many ways he can now be more present in our lives than before. I know, in the depths of my soul that he's whole again, that the separation he experienced throughout the past few years has been mended. And while I miss him immensely, and always will, I'm glad he's been spared further pain and frustration. I cannot speak with authority on how a person with dementia feels when they reach the point of nearly complete unrecognition of anyone important in their life, but it can't be easy. And from my point of view as a family member, it's easier to see him go knowing he's absolutely in a better place than the body he left behind.
I love you Papa.
My Papa Fred died today. He left the world four days after his 87th birthday and just weeks shy of his and Grammy's 60th wedding anniversary. There's very little I can say to explain how much I'm going to miss him. Even in the last few years, as his dementia escalated and claimed his memories, his generous, loving soul shone through to the very end.
To me he will always be the man teaching me to play chess, hunched over the electronic board, letting me think that I was winning because I moved the pieces for the computer. He's the man who taught me pool, and ping-pong, and instilled in me my love for mini-golf. Canoeing brings me back to Holmes Lake with him and Grammy paddling to the beach with me in the middle chomping on Skittles. Going for a bike ride will always remind me of the trips we took on their tandem through Lincoln, following the exercise path and my making us stop at every single station, his groaning and complaining the whole time, which only hardened my resolve because I knew he was doing it to make me laugh.
He was the handyman, the builder, who gave me my beautiful three story dollhouse complete with balcony and shingled roof. He made my wooden rocking horse, and the chest for all my doll's clothes and accessories.
I don't remember him as overly demonstrative in his affection, but there was never any doubt in my mind that he loved my sisters and I deeply. He (and Grammy) were willing to drive 12 hours in one day and end up right back where they started in order to bring Lina or I down for our week in Nebraska. He tolerated (and paid for) our demands for endless trips to the frozen yogurt shop or Children's Museum and sat through many a childish movie at our behest.
I cannot imagine a childhood without him in it, and I cherish every memory I have of him. And despite my immense sense of loss for his physical presence I know that in many ways he can now be more present in our lives than before. I know, in the depths of my soul that he's whole again, that the separation he experienced throughout the past few years has been mended. And while I miss him immensely, and always will, I'm glad he's been spared further pain and frustration. I cannot speak with authority on how a person with dementia feels when they reach the point of nearly complete unrecognition of anyone important in their life, but it can't be easy. And from my point of view as a family member, it's easier to see him go knowing he's absolutely in a better place than the body he left behind.
I love you Papa.
12 September 2013
Real Life
I am officially a resident of Prague, at least for now. I have a room in a flat in a beautiful neighborhood within easy walking distance of the city center and close to where many of my friends from the course live. I have a job, possibly two, and a place that I instantly knew would be where I will go whenever I start freaking out about things (more about that later). My first month here, my month with TEFL, didn't feel like real life at all. We were definitely students and our forays into the city were fleeting. We knew our way around, but we didn't belong, not yet. For that month we belonged to Vsyocany, the attic/villa, the school, and each other. But not anymore.
We're real people now. I'm pretty sure that everyone who stayed in Prague has found some sort of job, and I know that everyone has a place to live. I, at least, am figuring things out, like where the nearest grocery store is, how to renew bus passes (any help with that would be appreciated, by the way), how exactly to open the door to my flat, and the various tricks needed to coax the stove to work. I'm dealing with real problems, and I'm dealing with them mostly on my own, because that's what real adults do.
In all honesty, most of my first week revolved around school. As I've already posted about that, I'll only mention it briefly. Because it was the first week, they wanted to have all hands on deck, so my days were long. Really long. Like from 8 until 6. When I got home after chasing children around for 10 hours, grocery shopping was about the only thing I was up for. I have yet to make a trip out to Ikea to get a few things for my room. It's exhausting.
I have managed to cobble together some sort of social life for myself though. Last Wednesday, a group of us went to the Globe, an expat hangout in the city centre. There's an English bookstore, and they serve food like you would find in a typical American middle-tier casual restaurant (like the Chatterbox pub, for those of you familiar with it). They had milkshakes, and burgers, spinach and artichoke dip, nachos, smoothies, macaroni and cheese, delicious soups, and glorious desserts like New York cheesecake and brownie sundaes. On weekends they serve brunch with waffles and blueberry pancakes. I had the spinach and artichoke dip and carrot and ginger soup and it was amazing. Granted, I had yet to figure out the stove in my flat, so any warm food would have been greeted with enthusiasm, but I'm sure it would hold up under higher standards than mine were at that moment. Anyway, the food was not the primary reason we were there. Wednesday night is Trivia Night. We had a blast. We were a team of 6, and although we didn't win anything, far from it, we had a blast. It was a fantastic way to break up the week, and to relax a bit.
Friday night we met up at Courtney, Julie, and Kathryn's flat with the intention of going out to a club. But, and here's a shocker, kids spread germs. I knew I had a cold. How could I not, all Thursday and Friday I was so congested it was impossible to breathe through my nose. But I wanted to see people who weren't under 10, so I dragged myself the three blocks to their flat. It became immediately apparent however, that going out was not in the cards for me, so I went home after hanging out for a bit, which ended up being one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Saturday morning I woke up around 10, showered, and headed out the door around 11:45 with vague plans for a day of sightseeing. I wanted to explore the neighborhood I had ended up in, so that was at the top of my list, but I also wanted to get some pictures of Charlie at places of real importance, which would require going, at the very least, to Namesti Miru and the church of St Ludmilla. I started my adventure at the grocery store where I got two pastries, two freshly baked rolls of bread, two apples, a smallish slab of Camembert cheese, and a bottle of tea, all for 100kc, or about 5 dollars. I took my picnic to the park near my flat because I hadn't been there yet, and a picnic in a park sounded just about perfect. Well, it was. This park is gorgeous. It's built around a vineyard and wine garden, with a chateau, beautiful lawns, and views out over Prague. My favorite part though, was the part just inside the gate I entered by. It's a wonderland. It felt like I had stepped into a fairy tale forest, complete with tall, graceful trees, ponds, quaint wooden bridges and quietly giggling fountains. I spent a good three hours in that park, wandering around, writing in my journal, watching the people walking their dogs, or taking their kids out for a Saturday stroll. It was exactly what I needed that day, and it was perfect.
The rest of the day I walked around Prague on my own. I visited Wenceslas Square, and halfheartedly looked for the restaurant that had played such an important part in my previous visit to Prague, but didn't end up finding it. I'll go back again sometime when I have a map, because I'm determined to find this place. The second half of the day was not nearly as wonderful as the first half. I enjoyed myself, but in the midst of all the bustling tourists, I felt slightly out of place. Not only because I was alone, but because Old Town Square is part of where I live, I can come back to Wenceslas Square whenever I want, walk along the river at sunrise if I want to. It didn't feel right, striding impatiently through the slow moving throngs of tourists. I've moved beyond that part of my relationship with Prague, and I'm ready to know it better. We're friends now, Prague and I. Friends who, having met and realized how awesome each other is, still have lots to learn. I wanted to learn about Prague, I wanted to look inside her and find myself, which is, I think, one of the marks of a real friendship. I've seen Prague. Now I want to know Prague.
We're real people now. I'm pretty sure that everyone who stayed in Prague has found some sort of job, and I know that everyone has a place to live. I, at least, am figuring things out, like where the nearest grocery store is, how to renew bus passes (any help with that would be appreciated, by the way), how exactly to open the door to my flat, and the various tricks needed to coax the stove to work. I'm dealing with real problems, and I'm dealing with them mostly on my own, because that's what real adults do.
In all honesty, most of my first week revolved around school. As I've already posted about that, I'll only mention it briefly. Because it was the first week, they wanted to have all hands on deck, so my days were long. Really long. Like from 8 until 6. When I got home after chasing children around for 10 hours, grocery shopping was about the only thing I was up for. I have yet to make a trip out to Ikea to get a few things for my room. It's exhausting.
I have managed to cobble together some sort of social life for myself though. Last Wednesday, a group of us went to the Globe, an expat hangout in the city centre. There's an English bookstore, and they serve food like you would find in a typical American middle-tier casual restaurant (like the Chatterbox pub, for those of you familiar with it). They had milkshakes, and burgers, spinach and artichoke dip, nachos, smoothies, macaroni and cheese, delicious soups, and glorious desserts like New York cheesecake and brownie sundaes. On weekends they serve brunch with waffles and blueberry pancakes. I had the spinach and artichoke dip and carrot and ginger soup and it was amazing. Granted, I had yet to figure out the stove in my flat, so any warm food would have been greeted with enthusiasm, but I'm sure it would hold up under higher standards than mine were at that moment. Anyway, the food was not the primary reason we were there. Wednesday night is Trivia Night. We had a blast. We were a team of 6, and although we didn't win anything, far from it, we had a blast. It was a fantastic way to break up the week, and to relax a bit.
Friday night we met up at Courtney, Julie, and Kathryn's flat with the intention of going out to a club. But, and here's a shocker, kids spread germs. I knew I had a cold. How could I not, all Thursday and Friday I was so congested it was impossible to breathe through my nose. But I wanted to see people who weren't under 10, so I dragged myself the three blocks to their flat. It became immediately apparent however, that going out was not in the cards for me, so I went home after hanging out for a bit, which ended up being one of the best decisions I've ever made.
Saturday morning I woke up around 10, showered, and headed out the door around 11:45 with vague plans for a day of sightseeing. I wanted to explore the neighborhood I had ended up in, so that was at the top of my list, but I also wanted to get some pictures of Charlie at places of real importance, which would require going, at the very least, to Namesti Miru and the church of St Ludmilla. I started my adventure at the grocery store where I got two pastries, two freshly baked rolls of bread, two apples, a smallish slab of Camembert cheese, and a bottle of tea, all for 100kc, or about 5 dollars. I took my picnic to the park near my flat because I hadn't been there yet, and a picnic in a park sounded just about perfect. Well, it was. This park is gorgeous. It's built around a vineyard and wine garden, with a chateau, beautiful lawns, and views out over Prague. My favorite part though, was the part just inside the gate I entered by. It's a wonderland. It felt like I had stepped into a fairy tale forest, complete with tall, graceful trees, ponds, quaint wooden bridges and quietly giggling fountains. I spent a good three hours in that park, wandering around, writing in my journal, watching the people walking their dogs, or taking their kids out for a Saturday stroll. It was exactly what I needed that day, and it was perfect.
The rest of the day I walked around Prague on my own. I visited Wenceslas Square, and halfheartedly looked for the restaurant that had played such an important part in my previous visit to Prague, but didn't end up finding it. I'll go back again sometime when I have a map, because I'm determined to find this place. The second half of the day was not nearly as wonderful as the first half. I enjoyed myself, but in the midst of all the bustling tourists, I felt slightly out of place. Not only because I was alone, but because Old Town Square is part of where I live, I can come back to Wenceslas Square whenever I want, walk along the river at sunrise if I want to. It didn't feel right, striding impatiently through the slow moving throngs of tourists. I've moved beyond that part of my relationship with Prague, and I'm ready to know it better. We're friends now, Prague and I. Friends who, having met and realized how awesome each other is, still have lots to learn. I wanted to learn about Prague, I wanted to look inside her and find myself, which is, I think, one of the marks of a real friendship. I've seen Prague. Now I want to know Prague.
08 September 2013
Toddlers and Tiaras
Never in my life did I think I would end up being a teacher, at least at any level lower than college. But then last year with Reading Corps got me into an elementary school, and now I'm a full-blown preschool teacher. And while I'm not sure this is what I want to spend the rest of my life doing, I'm actually really enjoying it.
My job unofficially started with my visit to the school last Saturday. It was an absolute wreck. There were pieces of IKEA furniture scattered all around the place, and the upstairs classrooms looked like a bomb had just gone off with toys and art supplies as the casualties. But Chris assured me it would all be pulled together by Monday when the kids were due to arrive. I put together 6 drawers and met three of the other teachers: Chris from South Africa, Gale from northern Scotland, and Kristof, a Czech. Besides them and me there's Eric from Indiana, Stephanie from Florida, and Flavia, an Italian. These Czech kids are going to be exposed to so many different accents they won't know what to do. At least they'll be able to understand practically anything.
Monday morning I showed up at 8, not really having any idea what to expect. I ended up spending nearly the whole week with the Ladybugs, kids 2.5 to 4 years old. Some of the older ones actually speak English really well, and the Dragons (4-6 year olds) are basically at the same level as their native counterparts. Others of them can barely speak Czech, and can hardly be expected to speak English, which is why Kristof hangs out with the babes. It's incredible how much effect a reprimand in Czech can have when all the scolding in English accomplishes nothing. I spent the week doing art projects, helping kids wash their hands, and feeding them snacks. There was very little formal teaching going on, but that will be starting in the next week once things settle down a little more and the kids are a little more used to being in school. Next week they'll also be starting their after-school program for former students who have moved on to 'Big School'. They get lessons in science, history, and whatever else we can come up with.
The biggest joy in this job is connecting with the kids, and knowing that I'm really making a difference in their lives. One afternoon, I taught a four year old the word 'empty', and her face lit up when she understood it. Monday morning they were all a little wary of the new teacher, but I'm pretty sure I got through to them, because by Friday I had kids clambering to sit on my lap, and giggling at my faces. One of them made me a rainbow crown out of pipe cleaners that I wore for the rest of the day. I got many compliments from students and staff alike.
I realized this week that one of the reasons I love kids is that I'm able to open myself up to them much more quickly than with people my own age. Interacting with children requires a certain amount of silliness and imagination that adults just don't get. They have an inherent joy; easily hurt, but easily restored to good spirits. They can be brutal, unforgiving, and deeply selfish, but they're also more generous, creative, and open to new ideas than most adults I know. I love my job.
*I've done other things this week than play with kids, things that brought me into the beautiful city I live in now, I promise. I'll get an update in on that in the next couple days. I didn't want to skimp on either aspect of my life, which is what would have happened if I tried to fit it all into one post. Stay tuned for week 1 as a real Prague-ian!*
My job unofficially started with my visit to the school last Saturday. It was an absolute wreck. There were pieces of IKEA furniture scattered all around the place, and the upstairs classrooms looked like a bomb had just gone off with toys and art supplies as the casualties. But Chris assured me it would all be pulled together by Monday when the kids were due to arrive. I put together 6 drawers and met three of the other teachers: Chris from South Africa, Gale from northern Scotland, and Kristof, a Czech. Besides them and me there's Eric from Indiana, Stephanie from Florida, and Flavia, an Italian. These Czech kids are going to be exposed to so many different accents they won't know what to do. At least they'll be able to understand practically anything.
Monday morning I showed up at 8, not really having any idea what to expect. I ended up spending nearly the whole week with the Ladybugs, kids 2.5 to 4 years old. Some of the older ones actually speak English really well, and the Dragons (4-6 year olds) are basically at the same level as their native counterparts. Others of them can barely speak Czech, and can hardly be expected to speak English, which is why Kristof hangs out with the babes. It's incredible how much effect a reprimand in Czech can have when all the scolding in English accomplishes nothing. I spent the week doing art projects, helping kids wash their hands, and feeding them snacks. There was very little formal teaching going on, but that will be starting in the next week once things settle down a little more and the kids are a little more used to being in school. Next week they'll also be starting their after-school program for former students who have moved on to 'Big School'. They get lessons in science, history, and whatever else we can come up with.
The biggest joy in this job is connecting with the kids, and knowing that I'm really making a difference in their lives. One afternoon, I taught a four year old the word 'empty', and her face lit up when she understood it. Monday morning they were all a little wary of the new teacher, but I'm pretty sure I got through to them, because by Friday I had kids clambering to sit on my lap, and giggling at my faces. One of them made me a rainbow crown out of pipe cleaners that I wore for the rest of the day. I got many compliments from students and staff alike.
*I've done other things this week than play with kids, things that brought me into the beautiful city I live in now, I promise. I'll get an update in on that in the next couple days. I didn't want to skimp on either aspect of my life, which is what would have happened if I tried to fit it all into one post. Stay tuned for week 1 as a real Prague-ian!*
29 August 2013
Endings...and Beginnings
Well. Today was my last day of the course. Officially, we graduate tomorrow, but I don't have to come in for class because I taught today, and I don't need to attend the job fair. That's right everyone, I have a job! Again, it's not quite official, but I received a job offer and have informally accepted it. I'll be teaching at a preschool here in Prague that also runs after school activities for school-age kids. Like most of the all-English preschools here, it's very expensive and the kids do yoga and take field trips, put on plays and celebrate various holidays (specifically: Czech, British, and American. Thanksgiving, anyone?). I have yet to actually visit the school, but I feel like this is the direction I'm being led in. I have never felt so much assurance as I have these last couple months. Everything is falling into place, and I have no doubt that I'm where I'm meant to be. I don't have an apartment yet, but I have a couch to crash on, and several possibilities floating around right now.
Of course, with all this excitement about starting to live real lives here comes sadness that the family we've created over the past month is going to disperse. Endings are hard. I don't like endings. I especially don't like endings when it means saying goodbye to people I've only just started to open up to and have found to be wonderful people. Not that they weren't before, because of course they were. But, being an introvert, it takes me a while to open myself up to new faces, and let others see the crazy, poetic, naive, and optimistic person my family and friends know me as. That was just starting to happen, and now we're all leaving. Obviously, we're not all leaving Prague. In fact, most people are staying here, even those who thought originally that they were going to go elsewhere. But there are those who are moving away. And even those of us who are staying, it won't be nearly the same. We've grown used to seeing each other everyday in class, laughing over ridiculous grammar and eliciting techniques, cramming in last minute lesson prep together. There's just no way we can sustain that. We're going to have jobs, and live in different parts of the city. We're going to be real people.
Leaving TEFL tomorrow, certificate in hand (because I did pass, y'all. Grammar test and everything.) is going to be hard. It has been such an eye-opening month, both personally and professionally (if you'll allow me to call a job I have yet to start my profession). I've learned so much, and grown in ways I cannot even begin to describe.
I'm going to borrow an analogy from Virginia Woolf, if I may. In "Mrs. Dalloway", Richard talks about strings that connect people to each other, and the further away you go, the tighter they stretch, until, for most people, they inevitably break. I love that thought, that we're connected to people by stretchy strings. But I don't like the part about them breaking. The tugs of the strings are thousands of times better than not having them at all, or having lost them to time and distance. So I'm going to do my best to keep that from happening. I cannot stand the idea of losing you all so soon after having found you. I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Let's not allow those strings to break. Let's keep them strong. Change is inevitable, but that doesn't mean everything has to rearrange itself. We all have plenty of room in our hearts. Let's keep each other there. If that means travelling to various places around the world in order to see each other so be it. I guess I can live with that.
Of course, with all this excitement about starting to live real lives here comes sadness that the family we've created over the past month is going to disperse. Endings are hard. I don't like endings. I especially don't like endings when it means saying goodbye to people I've only just started to open up to and have found to be wonderful people. Not that they weren't before, because of course they were. But, being an introvert, it takes me a while to open myself up to new faces, and let others see the crazy, poetic, naive, and optimistic person my family and friends know me as. That was just starting to happen, and now we're all leaving. Obviously, we're not all leaving Prague. In fact, most people are staying here, even those who thought originally that they were going to go elsewhere. But there are those who are moving away. And even those of us who are staying, it won't be nearly the same. We've grown used to seeing each other everyday in class, laughing over ridiculous grammar and eliciting techniques, cramming in last minute lesson prep together. There's just no way we can sustain that. We're going to have jobs, and live in different parts of the city. We're going to be real people.
Leaving TEFL tomorrow, certificate in hand (because I did pass, y'all. Grammar test and everything.) is going to be hard. It has been such an eye-opening month, both personally and professionally (if you'll allow me to call a job I have yet to start my profession). I've learned so much, and grown in ways I cannot even begin to describe.
I'm going to borrow an analogy from Virginia Woolf, if I may. In "Mrs. Dalloway", Richard talks about strings that connect people to each other, and the further away you go, the tighter they stretch, until, for most people, they inevitably break. I love that thought, that we're connected to people by stretchy strings. But I don't like the part about them breaking. The tugs of the strings are thousands of times better than not having them at all, or having lost them to time and distance. So I'm going to do my best to keep that from happening. I cannot stand the idea of losing you all so soon after having found you. I mean this from the bottom of my heart. Let's not allow those strings to break. Let's keep them strong. Change is inevitable, but that doesn't mean everything has to rearrange itself. We all have plenty of room in our hearts. Let's keep each other there. If that means travelling to various places around the world in order to see each other so be it. I guess I can live with that.
22 August 2013
A Day in the Life
Here's a typical day in the life of a TEFL Worldwide student:
Wake up around 7:30 or 8. Class doesn't start until 10, so I can wake up gradually and generally get my life together before heading downstairs for class. We literally live 30 feet and 4 stories from school, so we can get there in about 2 minutes, unlike the people who live in the villa. The actual apartments are much nicer, but they live 15 minutes and a giant hill away. Score one for the attic.
Class starts at 10. We start in the room upstairs, and never know what lesson we're going to have until one of the instructors, Dan or Kenny comes in and starts teaching us. It could be a demo lesson where we experience a lesson like the ones we teach. Those come in several varieties: reading, writing, listening, speaking, vocabulary, and grammar. It could be a Czech lesson, although we knew there would only ever be three of those and they're now all done. It could be a lesson on the technical side of English. Today for example, we had one lesson on connected speech and the crazy things native English speakers do with their pronunciation when talking fluently. It's absurd. Then we had a lesson on the Perfect aspect of grammar (if you're wondering, the perfect is when you use 'to have' + past participle. You can have Present Perfect Simple, Present Perfect Continuous, Past Perfect Simple, or Past Perfect Continuous forms, all with slightly different uses. I had a headache when we left.). Our lessons could also be on things like classroom management, intelligence types, or business English. This week, we spent Tuesday and Wednesday listening to each other give 15 minute presentations on various grammar. Mine was on using the Past Continuous/Past Simple for talking about interrupted past events. Bucketful of laughs, that is.
After an hour and a half lesson we get a 20 minute break before heading back inside for session #2.
Is it weird that I'm actually enjoying this stuff? Grammar is fun! Granted, by the end of a massive grammar lesson, my head hurts, but I get it, mostly. And I'm such a language nerd that I'm just drinking this all in. I don't know how much I'll use it when teaching, but I haven't once been tempted to drop the course.
Lunch comes at 13:30. If it's one of your two days off per week, congratulations! You're done for the day! If you're teaching, you have an hour before needing to be back at school, ready for three hours of lessons with native Czech speakers who pay a pittance to be taught by teachers-in-training. We've had the same teaching team since day one of the course. There are three of us, and we'll each teach one 50 minute lesson and observe the other two, taking notes for later feedback, of course. Most of the time there will also be a trainer in the room, observing you and grading you on your teaching. In order to pass the course you have to pass 3 out of 5 observed lessons (among other things).
Then after teaching and getting feedback, you get your material for the next lesson and they send you home to use up whatever free time you might have had. Next week, the last week of the course (this is insane. How are we even this close to being done? I don't get it.), we have a 10 page assignment due about our one-on-one student, two lesson plans, and another grammar presentation (this time about the difference between 'some' and 'any' when discussing quantity). Oh. And a grammar test. And then we're done, and they throw us into the world with nothing but a certificate made out of a thin sheet of paper and reams of handouts, used up lesson plans, and comment sheets. This is definitely one of the hardest, most time consuming TEFL courses out there, but it's completely worth it. Several of my classmates already have jobs, a week and a half before graduation, and others have had interviews right and left. It sounds like I'm practicing for the testimonial party tomorrow night, doesn't it? Oh well. I can live with that. I'm so happy I decided to come here.
Wake up around 7:30 or 8. Class doesn't start until 10, so I can wake up gradually and generally get my life together before heading downstairs for class. We literally live 30 feet and 4 stories from school, so we can get there in about 2 minutes, unlike the people who live in the villa. The actual apartments are much nicer, but they live 15 minutes and a giant hill away. Score one for the attic.
Class starts at 10. We start in the room upstairs, and never know what lesson we're going to have until one of the instructors, Dan or Kenny comes in and starts teaching us. It could be a demo lesson where we experience a lesson like the ones we teach. Those come in several varieties: reading, writing, listening, speaking, vocabulary, and grammar. It could be a Czech lesson, although we knew there would only ever be three of those and they're now all done. It could be a lesson on the technical side of English. Today for example, we had one lesson on connected speech and the crazy things native English speakers do with their pronunciation when talking fluently. It's absurd. Then we had a lesson on the Perfect aspect of grammar (if you're wondering, the perfect is when you use 'to have' + past participle. You can have Present Perfect Simple, Present Perfect Continuous, Past Perfect Simple, or Past Perfect Continuous forms, all with slightly different uses. I had a headache when we left.). Our lessons could also be on things like classroom management, intelligence types, or business English. This week, we spent Tuesday and Wednesday listening to each other give 15 minute presentations on various grammar. Mine was on using the Past Continuous/Past Simple for talking about interrupted past events. Bucketful of laughs, that is.
After an hour and a half lesson we get a 20 minute break before heading back inside for session #2.
Is it weird that I'm actually enjoying this stuff? Grammar is fun! Granted, by the end of a massive grammar lesson, my head hurts, but I get it, mostly. And I'm such a language nerd that I'm just drinking this all in. I don't know how much I'll use it when teaching, but I haven't once been tempted to drop the course.
Lunch comes at 13:30. If it's one of your two days off per week, congratulations! You're done for the day! If you're teaching, you have an hour before needing to be back at school, ready for three hours of lessons with native Czech speakers who pay a pittance to be taught by teachers-in-training. We've had the same teaching team since day one of the course. There are three of us, and we'll each teach one 50 minute lesson and observe the other two, taking notes for later feedback, of course. Most of the time there will also be a trainer in the room, observing you and grading you on your teaching. In order to pass the course you have to pass 3 out of 5 observed lessons (among other things).
Then after teaching and getting feedback, you get your material for the next lesson and they send you home to use up whatever free time you might have had. Next week, the last week of the course (this is insane. How are we even this close to being done? I don't get it.), we have a 10 page assignment due about our one-on-one student, two lesson plans, and another grammar presentation (this time about the difference between 'some' and 'any' when discussing quantity). Oh. And a grammar test. And then we're done, and they throw us into the world with nothing but a certificate made out of a thin sheet of paper and reams of handouts, used up lesson plans, and comment sheets. This is definitely one of the hardest, most time consuming TEFL courses out there, but it's completely worth it. Several of my classmates already have jobs, a week and a half before graduation, and others have had interviews right and left. It sounds like I'm practicing for the testimonial party tomorrow night, doesn't it? Oh well. I can live with that. I'm so happy I decided to come here.
14 August 2013
Poetry
I love Prague. I really do. I'm having the time of my life here. I didn't realize how much I missed being a student until I found myself back in the world of studying, assignments, and yes, homework. I love the camaraderie of students, the act of flipping through books looking for answers. It's part of who I am. I know now that I'll never be able to get away from that. And really, would you want to stop learning? Would you want stop challenging yourself to think in new ways? I wouldn't. Academia is, and always will be part of my life, and I'm certainly fulfilling that need right now.
My first two lessons went well. We'll have to teach seven altogether, five of them will be observed, and in order to get the certificate, you have to pass at least three. So far I've taught twice, been observed twice, and passed twice. It's a huge relief knowing that I can pass even my earliest attempts and that (hopefully) my lessons will only get stronger. I've had a blast, even with my grammar lesson today on different uses of auxiliary verbs. After class, I met with the student I'll see for my one-on-one assignment. He's a lovely older man who reads books in French, speaks at least four languages very well, and spoke of philosophy. It was very easy to talk to him for an hour, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again on Sunday. I'm not looking forward to having to analyze his skills, but at least I was paired with someone I know I'll get on with. So overall, school is going well. I've learned more about how stupid English is in a week and a half than I have in the entirety of my life. I simply cannot imagine how anyone ever learns to speak, read or write it. I'm enjoying my classes, for the most part. Some are obviously more compelling than others, but that's going to be the case with any course you take. I'm really happy with my choice to study here.
But there's another part of me that's having trouble expressing itself: my poetical side. I noticed this most acutely on Saturday when a group of my classmates went down into the city center for a flea market and then split into smaller groups to wander around the city. I was in a very dreamy mood; both my mind and body felt very light, like I could sprout wings and soar over the red roofed buildings. When I'm with my very best friends, this part of me is amplified, and at that moment, walking along the river with three new friends, I wanted nothing more than to have one of them there with me. All the people here are wonderful. I couldn't ask for any better classmates, honestly. But I don't know any of them well enough to throw myself into the world with them, like I was longing to do. I wanted to throw my arms out, twirl around in circles, and just laugh for the joy of the simple Prague-ness of our lives now. I needed whimsy, I needed poetry.
Life here so far is very prose-y. The people are prose-y, the very nature of our program (learning grammar, teaching techniques) is prose-y. And I appreciate prose. I love prose, the misleading simplicity of it, the unexpected depth of its sentences. I spent three years in school loving and reveling in prose. But I have poetry in me too, and right now I feel very unbalanced. I want poetry, to dance into castles singing silly Beatles songs. I want poetry, to marvel over boys with bright red socks and hallways that are brilliantly white (I'm imagining what some of my friends here might say if I were to exclaim over red socks and giggling). I want poetry, to embrace the absolute absurdity of being here, and my fears of waking up to realize it's only a dream. I want poetry, to fall desperately in love with playgrounds that float just beneath a castle, and streets that wind away into the unknown.
I'm happy here, but it's in a very prosaic, filtered way. I want to see the world with rose-colored glasses, to have so much fun that people think I'm drunk, when really I'm only drunk on life. I want people who don't need to be in an altered state to act this way. This is what I miss most about you, dearest friends (and you know who you are). Of course I miss your beautiful faces and the depth of conversation that only comes from loving someone for so long, but those things can be simulated long-distance. The whimsical spirits missing from my life are impossible to recreate. I cannot explain it any more clearly than that. I haven't lost hope of finding someone here, but it could never be the same. So, come! Come visit, and we'll fall in love with life all over again, together.
My first two lessons went well. We'll have to teach seven altogether, five of them will be observed, and in order to get the certificate, you have to pass at least three. So far I've taught twice, been observed twice, and passed twice. It's a huge relief knowing that I can pass even my earliest attempts and that (hopefully) my lessons will only get stronger. I've had a blast, even with my grammar lesson today on different uses of auxiliary verbs. After class, I met with the student I'll see for my one-on-one assignment. He's a lovely older man who reads books in French, speaks at least four languages very well, and spoke of philosophy. It was very easy to talk to him for an hour, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again on Sunday. I'm not looking forward to having to analyze his skills, but at least I was paired with someone I know I'll get on with. So overall, school is going well. I've learned more about how stupid English is in a week and a half than I have in the entirety of my life. I simply cannot imagine how anyone ever learns to speak, read or write it. I'm enjoying my classes, for the most part. Some are obviously more compelling than others, but that's going to be the case with any course you take. I'm really happy with my choice to study here.
But there's another part of me that's having trouble expressing itself: my poetical side. I noticed this most acutely on Saturday when a group of my classmates went down into the city center for a flea market and then split into smaller groups to wander around the city. I was in a very dreamy mood; both my mind and body felt very light, like I could sprout wings and soar over the red roofed buildings. When I'm with my very best friends, this part of me is amplified, and at that moment, walking along the river with three new friends, I wanted nothing more than to have one of them there with me. All the people here are wonderful. I couldn't ask for any better classmates, honestly. But I don't know any of them well enough to throw myself into the world with them, like I was longing to do. I wanted to throw my arms out, twirl around in circles, and just laugh for the joy of the simple Prague-ness of our lives now. I needed whimsy, I needed poetry.
Life here so far is very prose-y. The people are prose-y, the very nature of our program (learning grammar, teaching techniques) is prose-y. And I appreciate prose. I love prose, the misleading simplicity of it, the unexpected depth of its sentences. I spent three years in school loving and reveling in prose. But I have poetry in me too, and right now I feel very unbalanced. I want poetry, to dance into castles singing silly Beatles songs. I want poetry, to marvel over boys with bright red socks and hallways that are brilliantly white (I'm imagining what some of my friends here might say if I were to exclaim over red socks and giggling). I want poetry, to embrace the absolute absurdity of being here, and my fears of waking up to realize it's only a dream. I want poetry, to fall desperately in love with playgrounds that float just beneath a castle, and streets that wind away into the unknown.
I'm happy here, but it's in a very prosaic, filtered way. I want to see the world with rose-colored glasses, to have so much fun that people think I'm drunk, when really I'm only drunk on life. I want people who don't need to be in an altered state to act this way. This is what I miss most about you, dearest friends (and you know who you are). Of course I miss your beautiful faces and the depth of conversation that only comes from loving someone for so long, but those things can be simulated long-distance. The whimsical spirits missing from my life are impossible to recreate. I cannot explain it any more clearly than that. I haven't lost hope of finding someone here, but it could never be the same. So, come! Come visit, and we'll fall in love with life all over again, together.
10 August 2013
06 August 2013
First Day of School
Dobrý den! Jmenuji se Meta. Jak se máte?
This was the content of our first lesson. Besides teaching us grammar, giving us demonstrations of the kinds of lessons we should be giving, and education theory, we're also receiving Czech lessons taught entirely in Czech. The point, which is a good one I think, is that having those lessons will help us to understand how our students will be feeling when we're teaching them English entirely in English. It also proved that it is possible to learn a language without needing instruction in your own. We learned to say, spell, and understand the above words without the instructor saying a single word of English. If you're interested, it means "Hello! My name is Meta. How are you?" We also learned: "What is your name? (Jak se jmenujete?)", "I'm good. (Dobr̆e.)", "I'm bad. (S̆patnĕ.)", and "Goodbye. (Nashledanou.)" There's no point in trying to convey pronunciation. Anyway, it was a very effective lesson, and a much better opening to the course than the other one we received yesterday. That one was exactly what you'd expect to see on the first day of any class. We went over the expectations, what we were going to be doing, and how we were going to be graded. It served very well to prove that this is not going to be a month of coasting through coursework. It's going to be a lot of work, but they promised that if we put the effort in, it could be one of the most rewarding experiences of our lives. I believe both parts; it's going to be really hard, but I'm also anticipating learning a lot and having fun doing it.
After lunch we had our first demo lesson where we experienced an English reading lesson. This is nothing like the reading tutoring I was doing this past year. These people are mostly adults, and can already read in their native language. It's not like they don't know how to put letters together to form words or don't understand that combinations of letters have certain meanings. They're literate. What they can't do is read efficiently in English. They can't skim for main ideas, they may have trouble gleaning nuance, and their comprehension may not be the best. So that's what they're learning: how to be a skilled, fluent reader.
This was the content of our first lesson. Besides teaching us grammar, giving us demonstrations of the kinds of lessons we should be giving, and education theory, we're also receiving Czech lessons taught entirely in Czech. The point, which is a good one I think, is that having those lessons will help us to understand how our students will be feeling when we're teaching them English entirely in English. It also proved that it is possible to learn a language without needing instruction in your own. We learned to say, spell, and understand the above words without the instructor saying a single word of English. If you're interested, it means "Hello! My name is Meta. How are you?" We also learned: "What is your name? (Jak se jmenujete?)", "I'm good. (Dobr̆e.)", "I'm bad. (S̆patnĕ.)", and "Goodbye. (Nashledanou.)" There's no point in trying to convey pronunciation. Anyway, it was a very effective lesson, and a much better opening to the course than the other one we received yesterday. That one was exactly what you'd expect to see on the first day of any class. We went over the expectations, what we were going to be doing, and how we were going to be graded. It served very well to prove that this is not going to be a month of coasting through coursework. It's going to be a lot of work, but they promised that if we put the effort in, it could be one of the most rewarding experiences of our lives. I believe both parts; it's going to be really hard, but I'm also anticipating learning a lot and having fun doing it.
After lunch we had our first demo lesson where we experienced an English reading lesson. This is nothing like the reading tutoring I was doing this past year. These people are mostly adults, and can already read in their native language. It's not like they don't know how to put letters together to form words or don't understand that combinations of letters have certain meanings. They're literate. What they can't do is read efficiently in English. They can't skim for main ideas, they may have trouble gleaning nuance, and their comprehension may not be the best. So that's what they're learning: how to be a skilled, fluent reader.
The demo started out with a vocabulary lesson in which he introduced a bunch of seemingly random, mostly British slang words, but which turned out to be important words in the article we eventually read. He then showed us a picture of an old Skoda car, a car with a dreadful reputation, and asked us why it might be worth 46,000 pounds (about 80,000 dollars). After hearing our guesses he handed us an article that had been written about this crappy old car. Turns out, this particular won the 1959 Leningrad Grand Prix, and then was the vehicle in which a young Czech student escaped from behind the Iron Curtain during the Prague Spring revolution. We skimmed, scanned, comprehended, and role played, all enforcing the lesson's objectives. Besides reading, we wrote a little, and did a lot of speaking to each other.
Finally, we were put into groups to plan our very first lesson, which we were going to teach the next day (that's today, if you've gotten a bit lost). We received an elementary level article about riding buses in Pakistan which we were responsible for teaching to a small group of adult students just beginning to learn English. I won't bore you with our process, which was very labored, considering none of the three of us had ever planned lessons before. But we managed, and the trainer said he thought it looked great. But planning and execution are never quite the same thing. The lesson today went alright. It could have gone much better, but it also could have gone much worse. For a first teach ever, I'm pretty happy with it.
I was surprised I wasn't more nervous than I actually was. I expected to be breaking out in a cold sweat the whole morning, and then be nearly comatose while my partners did their sections. But I was basically fine. I had a few small butterflies, but nothing even close to overwhelming. I think that means I'm in the right place. I'm feeling really good about this whole thing. The teaching practice is the part I was most worried about, but I've gotten my feet wet and didn't drown, so I feel like anything more can just get better. Even immediately afterwards, I was able to say with complete honesty that I had had fun talking with these people about buses, even if their English was very low, and we didn't really accomplish our aims as well as we might have wanted. It was fun. I enjoyed it. Tomorrow my group has a much higher group, the upper intermediates, for a writing lesson. Who knows what they're going to throw at us on Thursday and Friday. Maybe I should wait until then to make my final call on how I feel about this course. But I have a feeling that though I might never again have the level of inexplicable calm I had today, I'm still going to enjoy it. I can't shake the feeling that this is where I'm supposed to be right now.
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