Change

Since I started working at the ripe age of fourteen, I have had thirty six different jobs. Yes, thirty six. That doesn’t count babysitting or house cleaning for extra money, but it does count the time I tried to sell water purification systems, the one day I worked at a diner in New Orleans, and my very brief stint and Busch Gardens just to name a few of my ever prestigious job endeavors. The longest I have worked at a job is three years (three cheers for Page Middle School) and I do have five different one year stints, as well as my soon-to-be two years at my current place of employment. But that really isn’t much of a track record. I must say, I am forced to do some of my best creative writing on my resume.

The idea that my astrological susceptibilities (restlessness, need for change) have negatively influenced my curricula vitae offers some kind of explanation to me for my lack of staying power in the workplace but I don’t think my future employers will accept that my spotty work record is due to the stars.

There is a point here. I’m not just waxing philosophical. The wind of change is upon me. I think this may be part of the reason that I have not been myself this school year. Last year everything was so new and exciting and eventful. Yes, there have been some changes this year—new teachers, new students, new apartment(s)—but mostly everything is the same. I know that I cannot pick up and leave a country or a job whenever I start feeling too familiar with a situation, so I recognized that I do have some power in the situation, I can make some small changes. To my principal, I expressed my interest in moving up to the high school next year. Teaching high school literature and composition would be challenging and I think I am ready for that. I have been teaching seventh and eighth grade (the curriculum of which are very similar) for six years and it feels a bit rote. And the middle school mentality is getting under my skin a bit (you can’t imagine how many different Thai and Chinese words I know for the penis). My query was given a curt reply that essentially meant no. I felt deflated. I also tried starting a writing group, an opportunity to work on a substantial piece of writing. But everything got in the way—schedules, appointments, fears, yada yada—and the meetings never happened.

So my decision is I am leaving Thailand. In addition to my restlessness, this year I have put aside my rose colored glasses and Miss Pollyanna optimism and realized that my school is a sinking ship. The teacher turnover rate is unreal; I think we had nearly of a third of the faculty leave last year. Immigration officers were in the other week and some teachers were asked to leave the property because their paper work was not in order (an unhappy office worker is suspected of calling them and tipping them off). Since school has started, the superintendent/upper school director’s secretary quit (she had replaced the secretary who has two law suits against the administration but is still working in the office as someone else’s secretary). The man who was the liaison with the Thai government took off in October. And one of the most important people at our school, Ms. Jinda, who has worked efficiently and effectively at TCIS for over ten years, put in her resignation for December. She’s the one who met as at the airport in the middle of the night and knew us all by name. She also handles our payroll, taxes, and flights to and from Bangkok. She is amazing and she is leaving. I don’t know how they will replace her.

At a faculty meeting, we asked the superintendent what is going on in the office and she said she didn’t know. Ha! She said to just keep on teaching and not worry about anything. More or less, she said it didn’t concern us.

So in response to the tense situation in the office, the school board has rearranged things a bit. The Superintendent’s title has changed to the academic director and the upper school principal is also going by the title academic director. A former Thai army general was brought in to be the general manager of the school. And a new business manager was hired to replace the other one. After all of this was sort of explained to the faculty, a member of the school board told us that nothing has really changed. Explain that one to me.

I hadn’t meant to rattle on about all of this. And I don’t think I explained the situation very well in summary; I would have to write several pages more to give all the details but, as most of my readers are hard working, employed individuals, I know you can identify as every job has its headaches, bureaucracy, and scallywags.

Back to the wind or change…half the fun of change is the planning and the endless possibilities that seem to magically spread out before me. What to do? Where to go? When? How? Some people stress out about that sort of thing but I revel in it. Oh, the possibilities.

I have decided that I will not continue teaching internationally next year. I am not ready to have my life and finances be consumed with finding the perfect international school, researching the country, paying fees up the wazu (or would that be wazoo?) to attend job fairs, and more or less pimp myself out and find a way to convince the various school administrators that I am their best candidate. Because, when it comes down to it, I know I’m not.

The smart thing for me to do would be get a job teaching in Virginia. I’m thinking Virginia Beach, Chesapeake, or Norfolk. I would rent a room in a house or share an apartment with someone for about five hundred dollars. I would get a newer Honda. That would be the safe bet.

But part of me is thinking I don’t want to teach anymore. Paper grading, lesson plans, differentiation, reluctant learners, kids coming to class unprepared, apathetic students, meetings after meetings after meetings—I might be done with it. I don’t want to teach just because I can, just because of all the holidays off, just because it is what I have been doing for the last eight years. If I was to continue teaching, I would want to feel that there is nothing else in the world I would rather do. I would want to know that I was willing to do everything I could to be the best teacher I could be. But, alas, that is not the case.

Ideally, I would like to break into the editing, publishing, copy writing business. Or magazine writing. Something else I would like to do is work at a group home or camp where I can talk to kids about things that really matter, life choices and self empowerment instead of subject verb agreement and comma placement. I know that both of these options would mean a serious pay cut and lacking the much needed two years previous experience in the field could prove to be a hindrance.

I do know that barring the unforeseen marriage proposal from a kind, wealthy Italian living in his ancestral villa in Tuscany, I will be home in June. To stay. For a while.