New Shoes

Months and months ago I wrote a post about my worry about settling in or simply settling. I was adjusting to a new routine. I was adjusting to adulthood in general, and I was struggling with it. I brushed it off and decided to just wait and see.

Recently I've started to compare my job, my happiness, and my satisfaction with my new life to breaking in a new pair of shoes; uncomfortable in the beginning but worth it in the end. I've put in hundreds of over-time hours and lost dozens of care-free weekends for the sake of my classroom and my students. I attributed the need for this extra effort to being an ignorant novice in a complicated world. But, like with a new pair of shoes, I was expecting it to be comfortable by now. Surely, after this long I should be settled in my new routine, comfortable in my classroom and feeling confident in my abilities. Only, I'm not... and I don't.

Do not misunderstand, I love my kids and the looks on their faces when they learn something new, especially if that something was tricky or something that they struggled with. Teaching is a noble and rewarding profession. Teachers are every-day heroes, and I will admit that I get a small  big enormous amount of satisfaction from counting myself as one of them. My ego is boosted any time anyone gives teachers the credit they deserve, or recognises the work that they do. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen often enough and I'm the kind of person who thrives on praise.

So now I wonder whether it's time for a new pair of shoes. Sometimes the shoe doesn't fit, no matter how long you work it or how badly you want it. And I'm kicking myself for settling in the first place. I hate that I took the safe road, instead of the one that I really wanted. I can't remember the last time I felt inspired to write and had the time and energy to actually do it. My passion does not lie in my classroom, but deep inside myself and I let myself down by bottling it up for a more convenient time. The cynic in me wonders why I don't deserve to be one of those people who loves what they do, enjoys going to work every day and feels fulfilled at the end of the day. The critic in me curses those who say that I have an unrealistic expectation of life. And the sarcastic b**** in me says that those people are the ones who settled themselves, and they're trying to justify their own disappointment.

I am finding it hard to inspire my students to follow their dreams when I can't say that I did the same. How can I preach that education is the key to their success and happiness, if I myself am so educated and still so unhappy. Asking my students to shoot for the moon and dream big leaves a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. My clever kids are intuitive enough to throw the question back at me. "Hey Mrs Mac, did you dream of being a teacher?" And I lie to them, because telling them I failed myself just seems wrong.

I'm tired of waiting for "the right time" but I know I'm too scared and too proud to admit defeat to throw in the towel. It's nearly the end of the term, I know I need a break. But more than a break, what I really need is the courage to change my life.

An Account of the Transfer of Misinformation to Britain's Youth

I'm supply (substitute) teaching while here in the UK. It's just easier than trying to find a full-time teaching job. And it's generally a lot less stressful. My Monday-Friday work-time hours consist of bouncing from school to school teaching kids of all ages the wonderfully varied British curriculum. The benefit of this is I get to meet a lot of cute kiddos and see lots of different schools, teaching styles, and management systems. Funnily enough, this also means I get to witness a somewhat sad amount of misinformation transfer. This post is dedicated to listing these sad, but strangely comical instances.

• Let me preface this by saying that I used to consider this at the top of my mental list of misinformed teachers transferring incorrect information. But, recently it's difficult to say exactly which instance is the most deserving of the top spot, so I'm putting it in bullet points rather than a numerical list. Anyway, back in February I was at an ARK Academy in North West London for several weeks teaching a lovely group of Year 4s. (It should be noted that ARK is a company that takes over failing schools in disadvantaged areas of London.) Every Friday at this school (of which I was present for 3) one class would present an assembly of "What We've Been Learning." On the last Friday Year 6 students told the entire student body, faculty, and parents all they knew about the USofA, which included a comprehensive listing of all 52 states. That's right, I said 52 states. I've come to realise that this is a common European misconception. Still, I thought this was mostly the thoughts of some confused adults who were trying to sound intelligent. I swear I've had conversations with Europeans about the US and somehow gotten to number of them. Maybe it went something like this: Me, "Oh yeah. America is great. All 50 states." Snobby European, "Don't you mean 52 states?" (condescending emphasis on the 52) Me, "Um...no." So anyway, after a terribly inaccurate presentation about "Native Americans" (chalk full of stereo types, as illustrated by the wearing of feathery headdresses by all Year 6 students), the kiddos sang a song about the states and their capitols. This song was projected on a large screen behind the Year 6ers, but strangely only mentioned 50 States and 50 state capitals. After the song ended, we all applauded and the HEADTEACHER (aka the Principal) remarked that the song must be slightly outdated, as it failed to mention the 51st and 52nd states. The teacher smoothly replied that they were unable to find a song that included all 52 states. The icing on the top of the cake: the Headteacher picked a student from the Year 6 class to tell us their "favourite" state, to which the girl smiled and said, "Mexico!" *Insert face-palm here* It seems fair to mention that now projected on the screen behind the Year 6ers is a large map of the continental US, appropriately absent of Mexico. Rather than steering the conversation away from this poor girl who (hopefully) had been asleep during her History lessons that week, the Headteacher said, "Oh yes, that's a lovely state. What's the weather like there?" And the girl confidently said, "It's mostly cold and sometimes snowy. You know, like Canada." Perhaps Mexico and Canada are the infamous 51st and 52nd states? Here's that outdated song.

• Now for some science misinformation. Today I went to North East London to teach a really nice bunch of Year 3s. Midway through the morning, the two Year 3 classes combined to review for tomorrow's science test with a pre-test in the form of a PowerPoint. The lesson was conducted in a think-pair-share kind of way, and all was going smoothly until the question about astronomy came up. "How long does it take the earth to make one revolution around the sun? A. 24 hours B. 28 days C. 12 months." So the other Year 3 teacher, who was running the lesson, read the question through once more, emphasising the "around the sun ONE TIME" part, and then asked the kiddos to discuss with their partners, then vote for their answer by raising hands. I didn't count, but I'd confidently say that about 85% of the kids raised their hand to vote for A. 24 hours. No one voted for B, and only about 8 kids voted for C. 12 months. The teacher seemed disappointed, and I have to admit that I was too. She read the question again. Then she told them to think about how the sun rises in the morning and sets at night before rising again the next day. Now alarm bells started going off in my head. Red flags were shooting up. Basically, I was failing to see the connection she was trying to make between the sun rising and setting and Earth revolving around the sun. In the back of my mind, I was preparing for an epic *face-palm*. She read the question aloud for the fourth time and after a drum roll, confidently proclaimed that the answer was indeed A. 24 hours! The kids cheered. Well, most of the kids cheered. Those who had voted for 12 months looked at one another and seemed confused, but didn't say anything. The last time I corrected a teacher in front of her students I got my ass chewed, so I hesitated and felt very uncomfortable. I looked anxiously to the TWO other teaching assistants in the room, thinking surely they would highlight the teacher's error, but no. A group of kids sitting near one of the assistants must have said something like "really?" because I overheard the assistant reassuring them that their teacher was indeed correct. *Heavy sigh*

• Later in the aforementioned science test review PowerPoint, the question of irreversible changes of state came up. "Which of these is an irreversible change of state? A. melting a candle, B. burning a candle, C. melting ice cream." If you're clever you might see what's coming up. Before letting the kids discuss, she defined "irreversible change of state" by saying it's NOT like making water into ice, then melting the ice back into water. It was definitely the opposite of that. Ok, we were off to a good start. While the kids were think-pair-sharing, the teacher looked to me and mouthed "what is it?" and I replied by dramatically mouthing "B." Her brow furrowed. "Not ice cream?" she mouthed. I shook my head. At this point, it took a lot of strength to keep my palm off of my forehead. Kids voted, results were mixed and confidence was low. Teacher this time admitted to not being sure, but she said she was pretty sure it was "the ice cream one" and said that they'd save this question for after next week's lesson when they learned about it. Kids cheered. I sat silently shaking my head at the back of the room. Then, I remembered that we did indeed harvest ice cream from the arctic poles, and therefore she was probably right. Lord knows we've all experienced the disappointment of irreversibly melted ice cream.

Scotland, with a Distinct LACK of Hielan Coos

Last week Patrick and I took a jog up to Scotland to explore more of this island. Truth be told, we were hoping to make a trip over to The Netherlands to see his family (his plans) and feed some cows (my plan). Unfortunately, we didn't have our passports back from the Boarder Agency yet, and didn't put aside 20 days notice to request them for "emergency" travel. Honestly, if it's really an emergency, do you really have 20 days notice? C'mon UK Boarder Agency.

So, as I reflect on the week we spent up north I am going to try really hard not to dwell too much on the fact that my one reason for going (petting real live hairy coos) did not in fact happen. I am disappointed. Good ol' Patrick is such a good sport and did a good job being patient with my disappointment and trying to cheer me up. He has promised a full day of cow petting come May when we actually do go to Holland. See how I put that in writing? There's no going back now, Pattycake.

Right, so about the trip.

We left early on Monday morning to catch an 8:30 train from Euston up north. The trip only took about 4 and a half hours, which isn't nearly as bad as it had been rumoured to be. Patrick studied for his exams later this month, and I listened to music and stared out the window. At this point in the trip, I was bouncing with excitement imagining the hairy cows that would soon love me as much as I loved them. We arrived in Glasgow a bit before 1 and walked the short walk up the hill from the train station to our hotel. The place was a bargain, and so I wasn't expecting much. I loved it. I will stay in a CitizenM hotel every chance I get. I've already written a rave review on Yelp, so I don't feel the need to praise it too much here. Let's just say that if you've ever traveled in Europe, you'll know what to expect out of a hotel room, and would be just as refreshingly surprised as I was at the accommodation at CitizenM.

SO, we checked in, played with all of the buttons on the remote in the room that controlled everything from the TV to the lights (which changed colour), ate some of our food, and then decided to walk to a nearby park. (I had heard rumours that some parks in Scotland had a resident Highland Coo. This was 100% of the motivation for going to the park.)  Weather was nice, for Britain anyway. Cloudy but not too cold and not raining. I guess local Scotts would probably say that's all you can expect from weather in Scotland.  After a stroll through the park (no cows spotted, though, not even a large enough field to house one) we found the local McDonalds, as per tradition, ate dinner, and found a local supermarket to buy food for the next day. Traveling is much cheaper this way, by the by.

Tuesday was an all day tour up into the Highlands.  We saw bens (mountains) and lochs (lakes), fed wild red deer, tried to spot Nessie, and poked around tiny Scottish towns. Note, I mentioned nothing about cows. This was the day I was most deflated. Returning back to Glasgow was a very sad and slightly grumpy Kiersten, and an every patient and optimistic Patrick. Where would I be without him? Tuesday was also Ben&Jerry's FREE CONE DAY! Which was the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick, and so pretty much the only thing keeping me going. Glasgow, despite being the shopping capitol of Scotland, is fresh out of Ben&Jerry's scoop shops. I was having flash backs to my days in Phoenix, where the only Ben&Jerry you could find was in the freezer section of the grocery store. I huffed and shuffled back to the hotel, flopped on the bed, and had a proper dramatic cry and wallow. By the time I was ready to face the world again, it was nearly 9 pm. We headed down the street to a place that supposedly had all-you-can-eat BBQ Ribs. Tummies grumbling, we walked through the restaurant door just past 9 only to be told that the kitchen closed at 9 due to a lack of customers. Tuesday wasn't my day. We wandered aimlessly through downtown Glasgow, settled into a pub and had some surprisingly delicious food. Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe my lamb-shank pie really was delicious.

Wednesday- board the train for Edinburgh. Upon arriving, we struggled to find our way through the hilly winding streets to our hotel. Patrick once again saves the day by dragging our suit case up and down the cobblestone hills with very little complaint. This hotel was fine, but not nearly as fun as the colour-changing CitizenM. We dropped our stuff, took a nap (it's a vacation, after all) and then explored the nearby Edinburgh castle, which is apparently Scotland's most visited attraction. A steep £16 ticket price kept us on the outside of the drawbridge though. We saw some cathedrals and churches, and I took lots of pictures of old doors for Mommy. Then we went to a highly recommended Italian restaurant for dinner. Delicious meal, great service, and a perfectly American banana split and apple pie dessert combo lead to more rave reviews from me on Yelp. We went back to the castle to see it in the dark, took some pictures of the city from the really high hill where the castle is, and then found our way back to the room.

Thursday was Zoo Day. We woke up, found a Starbucks, then hit up the local grocery store to buy more food supplies before finding the bus that would take us to the zoo. Upon arrival, we booked a complimentary Panda Viewing and then explored. The zoo had only just opened, so I'm going to say that was why all of the animals were still sleeping in their indoor houses. The "hoof paddock" section of the map seemed to promise at least a cow of some sort, so we trekked up the hill only to find a really over-grown, really empty field of nothing. One sad looking llama was inside the barn, probably wondering where all of his friends had gone. Patrick saw his favourite, penguins, and then we went to our Panda Viewing. We were herded into a small room with about 50 other people to maybe get a glimpse of female Panda who had been hiding all day. Apparently the 1:30 pm viewing was no different to her, and she remained behind the scenes. The "Panda Expert" tried to console us as he lead us to the male panda's home and explained that the pandas had free will and access to their indoor enclosures at all times. I don't think I was the only disappointed tourist in the bunch. Male panda was sleeping on his platform, barely visible. All I can say is, it's a good thing I've seen pandas before other wise Patrick probably would have had find some Ben&Jerry's pretty darn quick. After we left the zoo, we went back to the hotel to read more reviews on Yelp about where to eat for dinner. (I think Yelp should be paying me a premium for all of this free advertising they're getting here.) We settled on pizza which got good reviews and was just across the street. WORST. PIZZA. EVER. Seriously. Bet your buttons I wrote an evil review when we got back.

Friday, sleep in, check out late, and grab the train back to London. Excuse me, I meant grab the Party Train back to London. Apparently something was going on in Newcastle that was attracting lots of old men in Hawaiian print shirts. And apparently it wasn't acceptable to arrive at this event sober, so you had to get pissed on the train. As soon as we left Newcastle, I slept, Patrick studied.

Wow, that turned into a novel of a post. No room for more than a few pictures.

Red deer checking out the new camera

The highlands

The many versions of Nessie

Our magic colour-changing hotel room

In front of the castle in Edinburgh

Doors for Mommy

Settling In or Settling Down?

First, let me just get it out there; yes, I know it's been way too long. Yes, I know I should post more. Y'all wanna know what's going on and my future potentially-alzheimer's-suffering-self wants to know what was going on. Sorry y'all. Sorry self.

So, as I sit here on the edge of my Easter holiday, reflecting on what I've done with my life since returning back to London as a married woman, I am saddened to find my memory unusually empty. I came back to London after Christmas break and I was exhausted from that whirlwind of a vacation. I took the last week of my winter break to settle back down into my "real" life. What the *bleep* was I thinking? Settle down into "real life?" What does that even mean? Who decides what "real life" is? ME! That's who!

I just re-watched the Pep Talk video on my pervious post. I've been wasting time. Yes, I have bills to pay and obligations to meet, but I also have dreams of adventure and a life worth remembering. I've wasted too much time on the things that need to get done and left no time at all for the things that will make my life something to tell people about. As it is, as it has been lately anyway, no one wants to hear about what I've been doing. That's why I haven't been posting. But I'm not going to let my dreams slip through my fingers because I'm too busy.

It's been a long, desperately cold and wet winter here in England and I'm dying for some sunshine. It doesn't look like it's going to get here any time soon though, so I decided to stop letting the weather hold me back and I bought a proper rain coat. Seriously, I am in love with it. Probably more than a person should be in love with a piece of clothing. I also bought a new camera to help me document my forthcoming adventures. I hope these things will help me to stay motivated and to remember that settling into a life of an adult does not mean settling down with a life that I don't want.


Here's a picture of my new coat. We're going to go on so many adventures. Starting with a trip to Scotland in just a few weeks!

And my camera is still in the mail somewhere between here and Russia, but here is the ebay image of it:

I'm pretty psyched to learn how to use it and to get photographing again! I can't remember the last time I took an analogue photograph. I know, I'm pathetic.

Giving the World a Reason to Dance

I can't believe it's February in just 2 more days. I've been off the grid for a while. Well, not really. Just off of the blogging grid. Life started to flood past me a few months ago and it was all I could do to keep my head above the water. Excuses are lame. Moving on.

Events of my life since my last post, in a bulleted list so short it could fit in a nutshell:

• Home for Christmas
• Spontaneously married the most wonderful man (shell too small for details--stay tuned)
• Applied for British Residency
• Lost an amazing Uncle to cancer

The rest that fills in the gaps isn't important. If it were, I'm sure I'd have something more to say about it. This post isn't really about anything more than me wanting to remind myself that the blood in my heart and air in my lungs is enough for me to conquer anything. No more excuses, no more focusing on the obstacles. I'm looking through it all and remembering to take time to feel my own heart beating in my chest. And in case I forget, I found an adorable video to remind me. Gotta give the world, my world, a reason to dance.