I AM A TEACHER

I am a teacher.
I was born the first moment that a question leaped from the mouth of a child.
I have been many people in many places.
I am Socrates exciting the youth of Athens to discover new ideas through the use of questions.
I am Anne Sullivan tapping out the secrets of the universe into the outstretched hand of Helen Keller.
I am Aesop and Hans Christian Anderson revealing truth through countless stories.
I am Marva Collins fighting for every child's right to an education.
I am Mary McCleod Bethune building a great college for my people, using orange crates for desks...
I am also those whose names and faces have long been forgotten but whose lessons and character will always be remembered in the accomplishments of their students...
I have a past that is rich in memories.  I have a present that is challenging, adventurous and fun because I am allowed to spend my days with the futre.
I am a teacher...and I thank God for it every day.


I came across this piece of writing the night I spoke to the principal of Cambridge English School in Kuwait and learned my job for the next year will be as a grade four classroom teacher.  It was written by John W. Schlatter and included in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book.  It seems fitting that I found it when I did. I haven't been in a classroom for a long time, I'm nervous about working with a large, active group of nine year olds, I sometimes question the sanity of my decision to take off to parts unknown.  Reading this reminded me that no matter what the next year holds for me - or the years after that - there is one thing I know to be true - I am a teacher.

KUWAIT BOUND!

After an agonizing, nail-biting, tension-filled 2 1/2 weeks I finally know where I'm going.  I had accepted a position in Vietnam but heard back from a school I had applied to in Kuwait.  Both positions are in international schools-and what I really want to do is teach English as a Second Language to adults-but the Kuwaiti company that recruited me also recruits for post secondary organizations, so there is a good chance of me getting into a position in adult education next year.

I have wanted to return to the Middle East since my brief sojourn there 6 years ago.  After weighing the pros and cons of both positions it was clear there were more benefits to me going to Kuwait.  Whenever I thought about traveling in Asia I felt excited but when I thought about living there I felt a sense of uneasiness, even panic - I'm not sure why, but I'm going to respect that feeling.  I still have a strong desire to travel in that area, particularly in Southeast Asia, but for now I'm not going to be living there.  I swear my decision was only very slightly swayed by my propensity for Latin/Middle Eastern men!  I think one of the deciding factors for me is the nearness to the continent that draws me more than any other.  Africa - it's been like a magnet to me since I was a child - Kilimanjaro, the Serengeti, the Sahara, the Nile, Timbuktu, Cairo, Marrakesh, the list goes on, the pull is strong.  I can't wait for the day I set foot on that continent, I intend to spend as much time exploring it as I can.

So, before the month is out I will be in the Middle East, a region fascinating in its own right and because of its location - close to Africa, Asia and Europe.  I will be teaching all subjects(British curriculum)to a Grade 4 class.  I am so thankful to have the opportunity to teach again - to follow my passion.  Thank you universe!

FAREWELL VICTORIA!

I have lived in twenty towns/cities/military bases, in five countries, during my fifty two years of life.  I have left many homes behind.  I've known the trepidation of beginning again in a new environment, the frustration of searching, yet again, for new childcare, doctor and hair dresser (essentials wherever one lives!), and the loneliness of being, once again, the new kid in town. 

The result of this nomadic lifestyle is a phenomenon that occurs every four to five years.  My ears tune into conversations about distant places, my eyes notice every moving van in the neighbourhood, my feet start a restless dance and my heart beats faster in anticipation of a major change in my life.  I don't know what it feels like to have roots, to have a hometown, or friends who have known me all my life.

I first moved to Victoria in 1972 when I was not quite fourteen years old; the move was the most difficult one I made with my parents.  I was at that awkward, adolescent age and was moving from a small military base in northern New Brunswick where my peers were accustomed to new kids in their school every fall to a city on the other side of the country, in a province I knew nothing about, where most of my new classmates had known each other since kindergarten.  My first year in Victoria was a lonely one and I spent a lot of time by myself exploring the beaches and coves near my house.  This is when my love of the ocean was born and this is when, as I walked down Head Street on my way home from school every day, I fell in love with the mountains. 

When I left Victoria five years later to live and travel in Britain I was sad to say goodbye to family and friends but didn't feel any particular connection to the city I was leaving.  As the years passed, however, I realized that Victoria was the closest I had ever come to having a hometown.  I found that I could still picture the beautiful sight of the Parliament Buildings lit up at night that I could see from my bedroom window, I could hear the sound of the foghorn, could almost smell the ocean, missed the majestic mountains I had taken for granted.  I had come of age here; gotten my first job, kissed (really kissed!) my first boy, graduated from high school, left home to venture out on my own.  The house on Anson Street, in Esquimalt, was the last home I shared with my parents.  As the years passed and I continued to move from place to place, buried my parents and older sister, married and divorced, and raised my 3 daughters, I often thought of this beautiful city.  After a brief stint teaching English in Oman in the fall of 2005 I found myself back in Edmonton, the city I had moved my daughters and I to in 2001 in the hope of finding work as a teacher.  My short stay in Oman had brought home to me how much I missed the ocean and the mountains so I said to myself "You need to find a job and a place to live anyway, why not go back to Victoria?  You know you've always wanted to."

And so, I came back.  Five years ago I thought coming here was about returning home, and maybe putting down roots.  I hoped to connect with friends from my past, people who knew the me I used to be.  Instead, I made new friends, people who helped point me toward a path I still need to walk.  I'm not ready to put down roots yet - there is still a lot of traveling I want to do, many things I need to experience.

Now I am leaving again. This time it wasn't just hard saying goodbye to family and friends.  This time I found it really difficult to leave this beautiful city.  I didn't want to get onto the highway that would bring me up island where I am staying until I leave Canada.  I drove around for quite awhile saying a silent farewell to my favourite places, soaking up the magnificent view of ocean and snow-capped mountains, smelling the salty air, listening to the cry of the seagulls(who usually just annoy me because they are loud and crap all over my car!), wondering when I will be back in this city I have come to love so much.  I don't ever remember my heart feeling so heavy about leaving a place.  I am excited about the prospect of spending the next 3-5 years following my passions of teaching, traveling and writing but I am really going to miss Victoria.

DEAREST DELILAH

Some people are huggers - some people aren't. Delilah is a hugger - I'm not(except with my girls, or after a long acquaintance).  Delilah quickly stepped through my walls - I learned to let her in.  Some goodbyes are quick and relatively painless - you blink back the tears and bluff your way through.  I've done that a few times over the past fortnight - I knew I wouldn't get off that easily when I said goodbye to Delilah.  We've shared too much over the past five years - joy, pain, grief, laughter, secret hopes and dreams, fears and worries.  The upside of letting someone get so close to you is having a friend who understands and knows you - and loves you anyway.  The downside is watching her walk away, knowing she's hurting, and not knowing how the years will treat her between now and when we next meet.  I freaking hate goodbyes!  I'm going to miss you, friend!  I love you, girl, and I will keep in touch.  I will see you again!

MATES, MOVIES & MARTINIS

I survived another "Until We Meet Again" -  this time with two friends I met through the social group. We've shared good food and wine, interesting conversations, friendship, and a lot of laughter.  My favourite get-togethers involved movies that not only entertained but engaged and challenged us and Diane's famous martinis(tasty but deadly-my limit appears to be two!).  I raise my glass to you Diane and Elaine - here's to movies, martinis, and 2 great mates! 

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS

Another day of goodbyes - and I so hate goodbyes.  This time it was a BBQ to celebrate the fifth anniversary of the second group I reached out to 5 years ago when I was alone and lonely in this beautiful city on the sea.  It seems a lifetime ago since I took those first tentative steps toward the group; a lone wolf seeking the warmth and comfort of a pack.  Social interaction, as the founder of the original group knew, is essential to our mental and emotional well-being.  It is almost instinctual for us to reach out, to seek contact with others. After six months of working 2 jobs I hated and coming home every day to an empty apartment I recognized that not interacting with people was seriously affecting me; I was slipping into depression.  I knew I had to step outside my comfort zone and initiate contact with people. Tonight as I sat in the beautiful yard of one of our members enjoying good food and wine, participating in great conversations and sharing memories of past gatherings I was filled with a deep sense of gratitude, and of sadness.  I am grateful for all the experiences I have enjoyed; walks and dinners, croquet and board games, potlucks and laughter.  I am sad to be leaving this eclectic mix of dynamic people.  I want to thank them for welcoming me into their homes and hearts, for the grace of their friendship, for contributing to my social wellness!  I hate goodbyes, so I'm not saying goodbye; I'm saying "Until we meet again!"

WILD, WISE, WONDERFUL WOMEM

This morning I went to my last meeting of the women's group I've belonged to for almost 5 years, followed by a potluck lunch in the beautiful garden of one of the members.  When I first moved to Victoria I felt very isolated and very in need of human interaction so I - the consummate non-joiner - joined a social group and a group for women over 50.  At the time I was a few months away from my 48th birthday-but I was desperate and the women were unsuspecting-thank the gods!  A few months ago I wrote a poem to tell these amazing women what they mean to me and how much they have helped me these past years.  This poem is my tribute to them.

WILD, WISE, WONDERFUL WOMEN

I'm a joker not a joiner, leader not a lackey, guarded about gals who gather in groups, a woman wary of women.

Encountering back-stabbing belles, blatant in their bitchiness, destructive dames denying dignity; I was repelled, retreated.

Yet I was locked in loneliness, suffering in silence, driven to despair. I had to hear human voices, needed to be known.

To save my sanity I stepped outside my safety zone, came to sit amongst them, stranger sitting in silence, seed in search of sun.

Into the safety of the circle I settled; welcomed, warmed; I laughed, lamented, listened and learned from the wisdom of these women.

Their lives have been diverse, difficult, demanding,despairing, at times disabling, and yet, in the end, they have not been defeated.

Their lives have been joyous, gentle, generous, gregarious, giving and gallant; the giggling girl inside their hearts still lives, still strong.

Wonderful women spending sunny, soaking or shivery Saturdays sharing stories and strengths, shame and sorrow, hardship and hope.

I have been witness to women's strength, have watched weariness overwhelm them, have extended empathy and at times subtly sought support.

Their influence on me has been profound; their words and wisdom educating, enlightening, empowering and inspiring me.

I have listened to these women talk of abuse and abandonment, death and divorce, faltering and failing, trials and triumphs.

I have seen anger and acceptance, caring and compassion, have witnessed resistance and resilience, toughness and tenderness.

I have learned about allowing and accepting, bonding and boundaries, forgiving and forgetting, latching on and letting go.

I have grown, stumbled upon sisterhood, perceived passions, learned to honour my woman's heart, stride surely toward a future once feared.

I am mystified, moved, motivated, made powerful, by these mighty, marvellous, memorable, magnificent matriarchs.

TO THE JAMES BAY WOMEN'S GROUP, WITH LOVE & GRATITUDE