Memories

February 14, 2007

I knew a guy named Dan.

He was a fellow Bobcat at Jason Lee Junior High in Tacoma. We were never really friends, but we definitely knew who each other was. He was a punk.

Not a jerk, a punk rocker. He was the first one I had ever met. Although I didn’t care much for his musical taste, I admired his dedication. He actually seemed to know what he was talking about too. He wasn’t one of those guys that got piercings and wore the clothes, but had no idea what the movement was about. No, in my junior high mind, he was the quintessential punk.

We moved in some of the same crowds and eventually went to the same high school. This meant that every now and again we would end up at a gathering together, even if that gathering was just four guys skipping class. I always enjoyed talking to him, even if I never fully appreciated his musical tastes.

I moved away from Tacoma the summer before my Junior year. I lost touch with everyone. Some years later, while working at the Moore Theater in Seattle, I bumped into him again. He went on to play bass in a band called Green Apple Quick Step. Not my favorite band, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t any good.

Anyway, in high school, Dan turned me on to Public Image Limited. I always had such disdain for punk rock that I never really gave it a chance. Dan gave me a tape (called Cassette Tape) and I listened to it when no one was around. Much to my surprise (and chagrin), I liked it and listened to it often.

I have owned that same album at least three times since then. It seems to be one of those items that slips through my fingers; I lose it, then buy it again a few years later. I recently purchased it once more (only now it’s called Compact Disc). I still know all the words, well most of them anyway. Tonight I put it on while Carrie was out. By the second tune, Zachary was dancing and singing right along with me. We had a ball. Here I am, pushing forty, in Mali, dancing to PIL with my four year old. I couldn’t help but think of Dan. It’s hard to know what events will bookmark in our minds. Sometimes they are dramatic and sometimes they are as simple as a cassette tape given to an acquaintance.

Fickle things those memories. There is no question in my mind that the above story is true. I remember it like it was yesterday. Yet when I look at the disc I realize that it was released in 1985 and I moved from Tacoma in 1984. That means that the story can’t possibly be true. Strands of events intermix to weave their own story line. How can it be that I have created my own reality? How many more memories like these do I have?
MJR

Drumroll Please!

And the winner is...Valencia, Venezuela; third largest city in the country. One hour from the Caribbean Sea, a stone's throw from Aruba, an hour from Puerto Rico, and driving distance to the Amazon. We are ecstatic. We will have a three bedroom apartment, so guests are more than welcome...

And The Winner Is...

February 10, 2007

We signed a contract today! We’re heading off in a completely new direction, away from the continent of Africa.

We had tremendous interactions with people from all over the globe. We cancelled several interviews after securing our position, but received a lot of positive feedback from various school heads. We learned a lot about the whole process.

Our new country is politically challenged, but exciting nonetheless. There are beaches, forests, mountains, and plenty of wildlife. Travel is easy and cheap and the climate is very moderate.

The school is small (250 students), but well situated on a hill outside of the city with lots of room to grow. There are regular professional development opportunities, including money for each educator each year.

We will have to live in an apartment (boo!), but it is a three bedroom abode within walking distance of the school. The city is the third largest in the country (1.3 million), but is close to the woods, the beach, and the mountains.

Overall, we are very excited. Is your curiosity piqued? Good! Stay posted for more info.
MJR

Decisions, Decisions

February 9, 2007

Interviewed today with Saigon, Vietnam and Valencia, Venezuela; both are appealing. Venezuela has invited us back for a second time tonight. Right now it is between them and Syria.

We had several other interviews scheduled, but we chose to be more selective. We cancelled on Haiti and Turkey for different reasons and decided to not even submit for Korea, and Japan.

Tomorrow we have another Venezuela school; Nairobi, Kenya; Casablanca, Morocco; and Chennai, India. We’ll see how it goes.
MJR

And They're Off!

February 8, 2007

Today we had our first interview. We talked to the gentleman from Damascus, Syria. We talked for an hour. It sounds like a great spot. We have the job if we want it. Carrie would do fourth grade and drama and I would do third or fourth grade. Good pay, good bennies, good guy.

We also have guaranteed interviews with Venezuela, and several schools in Saudi Arabia. We’ll pass on Saudi Arabia, but Venezuela looks good. Our day starts at 8 a.m.; a cattle call to sign up for interviews. Hopefully we’ll have some solid offers by the end of the day.

It feels good to go into the first round with a potential contract in our hip pocket. We are viable commodities! Employers are chasing us! How cool is that?
MJR

Chilly Cold Cold

February 3, 2007

We’re here in Boston.

We arrived at the charter to discover that they were holding it for us. We climbed on board and flew to Bamako for a seven hour layover.

We visited our good friends Ray and Geri. They are teachers at the main school. We had some beers and went out for a great dinner, winding up back at their place just in time for the school van to pick us up. As it turned out, there were two other teachers heading off to Cambridge with us. They were a couple that we had never met before. They even had a daughter the same age as Zachary. I opened the sliding door and said hello. I inquired as to whether they were heading for the Cambridge Fair as well; he replied “yes”. It was the last word he spoke to us though we flew on the same planes, waited at the same gates, stood next to each other in the Customs lines. Very strange.

At any rate, here we are. The temps are cold. We have had some nice walks. It’s actually quite refreshing to get chilly after sweating for so long. As luck would have it, there is a Starbucks right outside the entrance to our place and a Dunkin Donuts just down the block. We have been refreshed by lattes and donuts and are now ready to take on the world.

Speaking of which, we have been contacted by a school in Damascus, Syria. It looks like a good offer and they are serious about hiring us, so we may end up in the Middle East after all. I admit we are both trepidatious about moving right between Iraq and Israel, but sometimes we need to throw caution to the wind, right? We meet with him Thursday so we’ll see.

I tried on my new suit yesterday and got a haircut today. I haven’t worn a tie for so long and I still don’t miss it. I am getting nervous and more anxious as each day passes. Our time is also getting filled with appointments, shopping, etc. It’s odd to think that in one week we will be arriving back in Sadiola.

Being in the States is a very surreal thing. First of all, I am overwhelmed by the selection. Everything is a choice; maybe too many choices. I went to the bookstore yesterday and barely bought anything because I couldn’t make up my mind. We have our shopping list with us, but the things on it seem so irrelevant now that we are away from Mali. I’m not really sure I like having a Starbucks on every corner. There are whole sections of the market dedicated to forty-three kinds of bread; maybe we don’t really need so many choices. At home we are limited so we make do with what we have. We use everything until it can be used no longer. There is no running down to the corner for this or that so you figure out how to make it work or you do something else. Maybe that’s okay, maybe all this choice, all these options is actually a bad thing. I don’t know. It’s definitely a weird thing, a very overwhelming thing. It’s hard to get back into the swing of it. Is all of this choice actually a lack of choice? I’ll have to chew on that one for awhile.

In the meantime, we’ll keep you posted on the job thing. You write in and let us know where you think we ought to go. Here’s a partial list of possibilities: Turkey, Vietnam, Switzerland, Paraguay, Brazil, Chile, Sudan, Russia, Syria, India, and Malaysia…what do you think?
MJR

What Are They Thinking?

January 30, 2007

I don’t really understand people.

Remember that I got three new students in January. Two of them are sisters from Australia. Their mother is an early childhood specialist. We considered hiring her to help out in the pre-school. Mom came to me yesterday just before school to tell me that they are leaving on Friday and won’t be returning until June and could I please put together enough work to get them through that time. She wants enough work to get them through four months!

I have spent the last three weeks trying to get these girls up to speed with the rest of the class. I have had to review rules, create assessments, grade assessments, and spend time with them. For what? So they can head back down under to start a whole new program? The part that strikes me the most is the idea that mom (a teacher) thinks that placing her daughters in a new environment for four weeks and then transferring them to a whole new place for ten weeks so she can place them back in the original environment for ten weeks is a good idea!! Maybe she’s just crazy as a junebug…

I have also learned that two of my best students are leaving as well. They are twin boys who have really blossomed since I first met them eighteen months ago. They were supposed to be trouble makers; supposed to be too difficult to deal with, but that just wasn’t so. Today they are fine, respectable young boys. The bright side is that they will be moving back to Australia where they will be enrolled in a private school. It will not be on a mine. Currently they are the only boys in my class (of eleven) and 2/3 of the boys in the upper grades.

There is also a girl from my class that’s leaving, but I will not particularly miss her. She is a whiner and not terribly interesting. I had her brother last year and I was sad when he was promoted to Carrie’s room, but now he too will be leaving. Have you kept up on all this? If you put it all together, you learn that there will soon be no boys in the upper grades at all. There will only be nine girls aged six to thirteen.

Only three more days until Boston. I can’t wait. We get to shop at real stores, eat cheeseburgers and pizza, suck down lattes, hang out with our families, and walk anonymously among the masses. Oh, yeah, and we’ll find out where we’re going next. We got a letter of interest from a school in Moscow, Russia, but they will not be at the same fair we will be. I’m trying not to focus on that part. I am going to see my sister, hang out with Carrie’s family, and freeze my ass off. I thought it was cold this morning because the temperature had dropped to 70. Temperatures in Boston have been topping out at 30. CRAP!! I am definitely not looking forward to that part. Zachary, on the other hand can hardly wait for that part. He’s counting on some snow; I think he is the only one…
MJR

The Birds and the Bees

January 24, 2007

I am trying really hard to pay more attention these days. This is not an easy task for me as I am usually easily distracted. Now that it has sunk in that we will be leaving here forever in July, I have been trying to take it all in and remember each thing for what it is.

I love the solitude here. It is so peaceful. Just sitting, gazing out at the escarpment is amazing. Our next assignment will most likely be in a big city. It is entirely possible that our view will be cars, trucks, and smog. That’s quite a change from birds, baboons, and trees. I am trying to absorb it, allow it to permeate my being so that I can never forget. There are some things that are hard to capture; like the smell of the grass burning, the sound of the starlings or the weavers, the way a hornbill flies, or the way the village feels at night. I will miss each of these things.
MJR