fear

Before I begin, I have to say this is going to be a difficult one for me to share.

I considered, for a moment, not saying anything about this point of the trip, and continuing the illusion of a fantastical adventure with pictures and happy words on Facebook, but I think that to do this would portray a lie, and be unfair to you.  Since I promised I’d update with everything, here we are.

Two days ago I had my first interview with a Teaching School.  Most interviews require you to prepare a demo and teach for their class at least once, since they want to see how you handle a classroom.  I arrived about thirty minutes early, and offered to wait in the lobby, but they began the interview right away.  The principal was stressed out because one of their teachers called in sick.  After a few basic questions, I was taken to a small classroom where 7 children between the ages of 7-9 were playing on the floor.

The principal left me there-unusual, since I thought I’d be observed-and I began the 20 minute lesson I’d prepared.  Just in case you wanted to know, it was about animals.    The lesson ended up being at least an hour long.  No one came to check on me, or relieve me.  The kids were crazy-running around, screaming, and would only listen if I shouted or yelled.  If you know me, it is not in my nature to yell or speak harshly to anyone, much less a child.  Unpleasant.  Nope.  Do not want.   They only settled down when I gave them my prep-papers to draw on.   It was nightmarish.  i was really frustrated-so after an hour I had to go speak with the Principal and ask what the deuce had happened.  She asked me, “Oh, are you done?”

-_-

Moving on…

First interview done.  They asked for my number-I gave them my friend’s since I didn’t have a phone-and I left.  A small seed of insecurity had been planted, and I lay down that night full of fear.  I tried to calm down, and slept fitfully that night, hoping the feeling would pass.

I woke up just as anxious as the night before.  Panicky, sneaky, and relentless tears started streaming down my face, and I couldn’t control them.  It’s jet lag, I said.  It’s exhaustion, I said.  It’s the humidity, maybe I’m hungry?  Did I take my medicine on time?  Maybe I didn’t sleep well?   Is it because it’s so hot?  Mosquito bites?  Swallow the lump, wipe the tears away.  Rinse, repeat.  Get out and do something, fix the problem, stop crying.

I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted, so I prepared for the next interview.

This one had been set up last minute, and also required a demo.  Fortunately my contact at this school was quite professional and spoke English really well, so upon arriving at the school, things already felt better.  The women who interviewed me were amazing.  I gave my demo, and they offered constructive feedback as to how to improve instead of leaving the room.  It was a lot of feedback, but things were looking up.

The interview lasted almost two hours, and they informed me that while they believed me capable of the work, I would need to put in quite a bit of extra time and research to become a more adept teacher.  They gave me a choice – schedule a second demo immediately, or take some time to think about it and get back to them on Friday.  I think their spider senses tingled with my insecurities.

I came downstairs from the building (the school is on he 12th floor of a building downtown) and it had begun raining.  Staring out in the rain, my chest was constricted with anxiety, and I was paralyzed with fear.  I was in a city with no place to live, no money, and no job.  And the only job available was one I could barely do.  No, not barely do, but less than that.  The job I had to do here suddenly became impossible.  The options seemed to fade.  I watched people walk by and envied them their stability.

I can write you a million stories, paint for you a million paintings, but I cannot teach a classroom of children.

I loved the institute and the people at the second school I interviewed at.  They were gracious and perceptive, picking up on a lot of the insecurities I had.  If I was going to teach children, it would be there, but I have learned my limits, and sadly I won’t be able to join them.

This was one of those moments when I realized that no matter how hard I tried, or how hard I pushed myself, I could not do a job well or do it happily.  It was a difficult feeling.  I felt weaker and more cowardly, more upset that I couldn’t do this damn job.  I always believe that if your put your mind to something, and work hard enough, you can accomplish anything, but I faced a large obstacle here.  I found a limitation, a line I can’t cross, a place I don’t belong.

If you know me, you know that I don’t do well with kids.  They’re so much smarter and intuitive in every way, and they are underestimated all the time.  Besides, what do I have to teach tiny children?  Maybe I could show them how to draw a dragon, but that’s not what their parents are paying for.

My friend Yo met me after the interview, and let me cry in the rain for about an hour.  It has been an enormous help that he is here and willing to help me, giving me a place to stay and helping me get to interviews on time.  I’d probably be out on the street or looking for more “motel” offers without him.  That’s a joke, you can laugh.  I figured this post was so depressing I should make a funny.

He took me to eat the most delicious ramen I’d ever had (in Taiwan, Shinsengumi you’re still my No. 1).

I took a picture:

I slept like a baby last night, and woke up feeling much better.  Obviously my options are more limited since I won’t be teaching children, but I feel better about this path.  I think I can make it work with tutoring, or finding an institute for adults.  Besides, it’s only been a week-maybe I should slow down.

(I did, don’t worry, I played WoW for an hour this morning)

Kids are scary, guys.