Finally, A Job!

After the job fair in Atlanta, on Monday, the 3rd of December, I had an interview with the director of Yangon International Educare Center, an International school that teaches mostly Burmese students (but also from around the world) from kindergarten on up to twelfth grade using American standards and curriculum.

The interview went like a cat in water (not the best analogy; I mean, they can swim, but how good are they really?). My head was still swimming from the weekend and countless websites and information from all of the schools, that while on the phone I was trying to separate this school from another. Certainly not one of my best interviewing moments, to be sure. However, between my candor and unmatchable charisma, my non-traditional experience teaching in Ghana, the Alaskan bush, and China, not to mention the rave reviews given by my former employers, at the end of the interview came, "Well, do you want a job?"

Then came too much thinking time as I tried to weigh everything against anything that I could think of and dream up. I worried, then got excited, then worried some more. At one point I was sure I wasn't going to take it, then the next thinking, "How could I not?" It was confusing, and for one of the first notable times in my life, my gut was at a major loss and of no help at all.

And so on the night of the 16th of December and out with Kate, we talked about the job, me picking her brain for the umpteenth time about what I should do. She said that I was thinking about it too much. She could not have been more right. With that I strode down the length of the bar where we were conversing, and decided then and there to get online and agree to take the position. My plan failed fast when the Internet service refused to let me see my inbox, of which lead me to quickly create a mental picture of me beating the computer into submission before I turned my back on it and deflatedly walked back to my stool only to be left with more time to contemplate.

Back at a guy's place, the reason for most of the confusion, I quickly brought up my e-mail, found the letter of acceptance I had up to that point kept in the draft area of my communications, and pressed "send" as quickly as I could before my finger recoiled from the return key with a quickness that no pointer finger has ever known, or so I would like to believe.

I woke up the next morning with an amazing lightness since the interview and felt that the right choice had been made.

Then came dealing with the contract, of which I scrutinized like mad, leaving the director to joke that I missed my calling as a lawyer. I went over everything again and again and asked questions more than once, afraid of missing something or taking sentences to mean something other than it actually did. With the contract came more doubt and uncertainty, my head playing tricks on me and receiving yet again no back up from the gut. Either it has bailed on me temporarily or all of my former instinct that I used to pride myself for having has vanished.

On Christmas Eve, I scanned in the signed contract and sent it into cyberspace, still not sure if the decision was right or not, but feeling that I couldn't wait any longer for my heart and head to be in sync and figure it out.

Now, with each day I become more and more excited about the life that awaits me in Myanmar and all that I will experience there. I already have dreams of visits, some promised by a few, others just mere secretive hopes from my end. It's easier to say I will go for two years this time around, as I'll be back for the full summer in between school years, not to mention both Christmases.

As Kate has said, if life takes me in a different direction in the next few months, well, it happens, and that is okay.

So, for now I'm still waiting and listening for the wisdom of my gut to return to sharing it's fine tuned intuition with me.

Here is the website for the school, which answers a bunch of questions in the Q&A section, not to mention includes a lot of great photographs. I'll be putting up more info on the school, Myanmar, and teaching there in a wee bit, so if you have any questions, e-mail them to me, and I'll get right on them!

http://www.yiec.org/

And now back to awaiting the wisdom.

Latin American Job Fair - A New Experience

DAY 1: I was so buzzed about the possibility of finding a job this weekend for overseas and staying in a nice hotel, that without looking I boarded a Hilton shuttle, not realizing that there are three next to the airport. I looked out the window as the shuttle motored along and walked into the hotel with a spring in my step, all smiles, and started my friendliness with the man at the desk before I was planted. I gave him my name and he started his look, but then I noticed his face. "Oh, that's not a good face," I said to the guy. "What's your name again?" After a few minutes of checking and me checking a master list that he handed to me it dawned on him. "What hotel are you staying at?" Yup. We laughed together, both at me, lucky, lucky, and then he directed me back to the shuttle, which was in another location for all of you thinking that I wouldn't have been able to find my way back to where I initially got out.

Climbing back aboard the shuttle, I realized it was the same one as soon as I saw the driver. "You didn't listen to me," he said, after I told him I need the other hotel. I should have just explained that I'm a teacher and have always had a hard time with that one. Going along with a few other men from the airport, after letting two of the others off, one still remaining, some kid wanted to get on at the wrong spot and started getting testy with the driver for not letting him on. After we started rolling away, the driver complained about people's lack of listening skills out loud, maybe to himself, but there were two in his audience. Upon hearing that, I quickly quipped, "Well, maybe people just want to ride with you." My other compadre laughed, the driver was silent.

After joking around with the people at the front desk now at the right hotel, taking the elevator, and going to my room, I opened the door to a clean, cig-smell free, large room. I started unpacking, called the rents to let them know that I arrived safe and sound, and suddenly felt thirsty. I came prepared with cider packets, so thought I'd break one out and treat myself. Now, where do I get the water? Would the hotel supply bottled water? Would I have to pay for it? I had this routine cycle of thinking running in my head for a few seconds longer than I would like to admit before I realized, "Ah, yes, I CAN drink the water out of the faucet here! Just like at home!" Funny, yes, but for two years my thirst-quenching body has been conditioned to a certain type of thinking, one that is changing, but ever so slowly.

The orientation made me nervous, clam up like most people probably can't even believe. I wish I was the type of person that just goes up to someone and starts talking, laughing. I get there, but it takes awhile.

As the night stretched on I started to panic more and more, thinking that signing up with a school is a huge, life changing decision. It is, but it is also just two years.

DAY 2: This morning I woke up early, had breakfast downstairs in my pajamas (which I was disappointed to find no one joining me), and later dressed, anxious for the sign-up interview process that would take place. Upon arriving at the designated room, my hands began to shake and turn ice cold as if I had been locked outside. Armed with my list of schools, I made my way to my first choice, introduced myself and shook hands. I hoped that my looks were deceiving, because inside I was a ball of nerves. I was so nervous that upon writing down my interview information, I noticed that my hands were shaking.

Going through and meeting different directors, not to mention overhearing people's conversations, I started to sink just below the water line. So many of the people here have experience in accredited schools with standard American or European standards. I have experience, great experience that I have loved and would never take back (even the almost unbearably hard stuff), but it just doesn't hold up.

And so where does that leave me?

I have a interviews lined up, my first choice being in just half an hour, which I know I will rock, but whether or not they choose to accept my nontraditional and varied experience will be another story.

It has me thinking that I might be sticking around longer than I planned, hanging out right where I am or moving to the city, choices of which I know would make many happy. Then again, who knows what's around the next corner.

AFTER THE FIRST INTERVIEW: To my pleasant surprise, I rocked my first interview. The director asked me questions, some of which I wasn't sure how to answer, but gave it the best that I could. At the end he said that he was wondering how I would fit in with the rest of the staff, that he could see me really hitting it off with everyone, and that he had no doubt that I would do really well at the fair.

It would seem that I'm nervous all over again, nervous about being offered a job and being away again without the large expat community that I was hoping for. Excited that someone sees value in my varied experiences and the possibility of having a job.

It is just terribly exciting and nerve racking.

DAY 3: So I woke up, hung out, then made my way downstairs and checked to see if I had any messages. I received call backs, but most importantly from the one school that I really felt good about. After breakfast I spoke with Mom and Dad, then Dave, about Venezuela and that it sounded amazing.

The second interview was good, so close to great. They want me, but have preference of a married couple, the two for one thing winning out a bit, of which I totally understand. However, the director went on to say that back in Puerto La Cruz they have a couple that doesn't seem to be happy, and that when he goes back in a week he might have a position to offer me.

I had a second interview and cancelled one at a school that I didn't feel right about, and so now I'm back in my room with the rest of the day on my hands.

This fair has been another great learning opportunity, if not a costly one, but totally worth it. It has made me think about my life in the next year or two, what is important, and how I want to live it. Figuring that out is worth everything.

And so where will I go from here? If I was offered the job in Venezuela either today, oh do I wish, or more probable next week, I'm taking it. My gut is telling me that it would be the perfect fit for me and I just hope that I have that chance. If it doesn't work out, I think Chicago has called me long enough (not to mention one of my fabulous friends) to finally give in. Chicago would be great and would put me in a classroom probably just as international as the ones I'm hoping to find abroad. Then again, there is always the charm and love of my parents in Woodstock.

Oh So Thankful - Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving eve snow fell silently and without warning, as if to see if anyone would notice. My heart le with the sight, my first snow fall in two and a half years. It was as magical for me as it was when I was little, the dancing pieces of white floating to create my own snow globe world.

Turkey day arrived without hesitation, the morning sun reflecting in the thin blanket of snow, getting me school-girl excited all over again. I went out in my snuggly fake fur, armed with my camera, wanting to take it all in and Kodak moment it without missing any of the marvelously small details. I made tracks and watched them with child-like curiosity, marveling at just how little was making me happy at that exact second. The icicle pointed with such sharpness that it worried me. In those few minutes I dreamed of swinging outside, head titled back just enough for a head rush, dreaming of the world all white while twirling and upside down.

Once inside it was hugs and cheerful exaltations all around, while even the cold tried to make its way inside, showing itself through the steamed up and dripping wet windows. What a perfect way to start out Thanksgiving!


Breakfast was started before long, Gran, Dad, Mom, and I all sitting down together. My excitement spread through by body and soon was making it's way nonstop out my mouth in the form of laughter, jokes, and totally silliness. I could barely sit still as we played a morning round of Hand and Foot, one of our favorite family card games.

With the game over and me trying to get out all of my energy by dancing around in the kitchen signing and tra-la-laing "Thanksgiving, thanksgiving," over and over again, everyone once in awhile lifting myself up between the chair and island in the kitchen and throwing out a karate kick of something fierce, I finally simmered down long enough to smell my vegetarian stuffing.


Before long, Mom was working on the turkey, smothering it in seasonings. I watched and joked about her hand being various places, to which to my bragging right, kept her laughing all the while.


Hours later, the smell of turkey having wafted through every corner of the house and finally done, Dad went to work cutting up the bird.


Feeling like I should contribute more to the dinner than my comedic skills and memory capturing snap-snappy photo taking, I declared that I would be the official masher of the potatoes.


Dad and Gran.


Me and Mom.


With the food finally ready, we all sat down to a feast that dreams are made of, especially since being in China for the past two years.


It can't nor shouldn't be a proper Thanksgiving meal without dessert, and so after plates were cleared, mincemeat and pumpkin pies having claimed themselves as the grandfinale of the evening, we commenced cutting and the final yums of the night. I hadn't heard the crunchy whirl of a Readi Whip can in ages and so couldn't withstand the temptation and pure delight of straight from the can to the mouth goodness. I mean, that is what it is really made for!


As much as the day was filled with fun, games, laughs, and good food, a huge important part was missing - my brother, Dave. It was hard for me to have him gone, especially this being my first big holiday back in the States and wanting him there, but I kept my eye on the prize, Christmas, and knew that he would be with us all again before long. Don't worry, Dave, I took an extra squirt of Readi Whip just for you!

The Panzhihua 4 Minus 1 - A Visit to Duluth and Peace Corps family

I've been trying to see people or plan out times to make time, not knowing what the next few months will bring, let alone days or minutes that lay ahead. I had hoped to visit my brother in the middle of this month, my missing him prompting last minute conversations of me flying out to Seattle, ticket prices seeming to laugh back at me in a sinister tone. With my trip out to Dave postponed, I thought of all of the people that were on my list to see. Having been lucky enough to see Paul, Lindsey and Brian of the Panzhihuaren family were closer than the rest, and so I let the idea out and shook it around. 'Yes, yes! Come, come!' came the voices from the north.

A few days before heading up to Minnesota, I woke up excited at the only days away reunion, e-mailing Linds and Bri of my excitement while dancing to my happy feet.

I left Friday morning at eight after going over directions with Dad, him giving Mapquest a disapproving nod while suggesting an alternate route that would later shave an hour off of my time. And so armed with a peanut butter and jelly, apple, two clementines, water, hugs and kisses to family members, and devastatingly good looks fresh from the covers of my bed, I warmed up my car, climbed in, turned on NPR, and was on my way.

The hours went by fast, sleepiness at one point being so heavy that I was unsure of my exact whereabouts and whether I was still on the right course. I pulled into a rest stop and studied the map, relief coming over me upon finding my location. I needed caffeine!

Readied and more awake, I observed the change in landscape, from mostly shade trees to a mix of shade and pine, the look signifying that I was officially north. The drive reminded me of trips up to visit my brother in the U.P. and waves of missing him crushed over me. Good thing I was in the car or I would've been freezing!

Then I was there at Superior, Wisconsin, with only the water and bridge separating me from Duluth. With an hour before my arrival time left, I turned the car around and went back to the last rest stop I had spotted. I freshened up while in my car, then called Nikki (my P.C. soul mate) and talked to Guy (a person you will be introduced to at a later date). Time running on, I made my way to Duluth, traversed the city, taking in it's quaintness, and parking.

Brian would be the first person I'd see, work breaking for him earlier than Lindsey. With his directions, I found his place of work, followed the signs to his office, and knocked on his office door while opening it hesitantly. Within a second he was in view, a smile on his face, and the months in between when we all parted washed away. After meeting coworkers and looking around, we made our way to their apartment, were we played the wait game till we could get Lindsey. We talked of life, catching each other up on the latest, while being showed the apartment and relaxing from the day.

Picking up Lindsey at work was a reunion that threw me, seeing Brian and Lindsey together in America being almost too dreamlike to grasp.
From there we drove to a Mexican restaurant, ordered drinks, and toasted to our reunion. Within moments everything came spilling out, life and laughs of the kind normally shared between the three of us.

Full and feeling good, we made our way downtown for the Christmas parade that was to ensue. Glimpses of the parade's beginning came into view and we rushed to follow it to see the start. We stood with the many people of Duluth and other places of Minnesota, hats, gloves, kids, dogs, and loved ones nestled together and worn as outdoor wear whether it was the original purpose of said thing/person or not. The breeze took your breath away and tempted smiles to stay put, while turning noses red. I danced to the beats of the many bands or shrugged my shoulders in time with the throngs of tap dancers that strutted their stuff. My favorite was watching the flame throwers, several groups of them, girls whirling lit up batons, making me jealous of the way parades were done up in the north.


We walked home pub crawl style to ward of the cold and keep our feet moving. Cold nights and cider in an Irish pub - where could anyone go wrong? Then you add the company of two amazing people and anyone with that mixture is golden.

Back at home, the walk seeming longer than I had anticipated it feeling, we changed, hugs given round before heads fell on pillows.

I woke up to a dusting of snow, it having fallen in secret while we slept. It tugged a smile to my lips as I shuffled around in the morning newness.

It was a slow, luxurious morning of watching MTSS podcasts that made us laugh and made me proud of the friend who was responsible. After breakfast and showering, we headed out in my car to run errands. Once parched and tired, we headed closer to the lake for a yummy lunch that satisfied like no other. We finished our day with a purchase of gourmet chocolates and movies and headed home to snuggle in.

Sunday, my last full day with Linds and Bri, was another chill day, reminding me of hang out session together back in Panzhihua. Linds and I tooled around for a bit in the late morning and were hungry by three in the afternoon. We picked up Brian and collectively decided on Indian. Indian had other plans, as both places were closed. So instead we went to the next choice, a local pizza place with great apps and drinks. The three of us sat in the bar, where the ambiance was Amanda style and the waitress looked crazy tough but was killer cool. We sat down and started a game of Scrabble while eating in between bowls of artichoke dip and vegetarian pizza with fake meat.

Back at home, Linds dialed up Steve, the missing member of our family, who is now living in Korea. It was crazy to have all of us there in voice, to have a conversation between everyone, to laugh with each other even though one was across the ocean.


Monday morning we all got ready, me to go and Brian and Lindsey for work. The night before we discussed the next time we would be getting together, which we decided would only be two months away when Steve would be back in the States, so the goodbye was only a 'see you later.' By the time hugs were dolled out and one last look and smile shared with both I was already excited at the next time I would be back to Duluth.

Working in America

After being back in Woodstock for three and a half months (which seems like nothing and a long time all in one breath) and life not going at all like I had planned or hoped it would when I came home, I decided that I needed to get out and do my thing.

Originally, I didn't want to substitute teach. I knew that I would do a great job, but part of me, the professional part, felt like it would be taking a few steps back. (I had been offered several wonderful opportunities in Alaska, both part and full-time, but with Mom and Grandma, I just felt that staying around right now would be best for everyone.)

Last Friday before the start of the weekend, I officially signed up to sub in my local school district. I sighed when I pushed the return button for the final time, not really sure that I wanted to, but knowing that Mom was doing better and that I had to start work whether or not it was a full-time position.

I woke up this morning enthused beyond belief for the day ahead of me, an added quickness to my step with my new purpose. Did I mention feelings of nervousness? Once at the school, I signed in at the office and wandered down the halls of what used to be my middle school. Not a lot had changed and being in the building brought back a lot of memories.

I read and reread through the plans for the day, walked around the room, and took in the surroundings. Suddenly, the teacher from across the hall stepped in, which was the same teacher that had been on my interview panel for the job I had went after months ago. After introductions and her remembering me, she went on to say how they really wished that they would have been able to hire me (another teacher in the district transferred) and how much they had wanted me at their school, and how that feeling continued even months later.

Minutes later, students started coming in, one girl looked me over time and time again and said, "Wow, you are really tall." I tried saying that it was the heels, but she and I both knew better. The day got started and hummed along, fifth graders being so amazing to me that I often caught myself watching them work with a smile on my face, feelings of pride not really being well earned, but so blown over by their young adult I-can-do-it attitudes, how could one not feel some sense of pride? (I have been told that I am easily won over, prideful smiles and acknowledgements constantly spilling out about my loved ones from my lips, so I guess it really wasn't that big of a stretch.) I got enthralled when they raised their hands to ask for my help or to help them act out their parts for the first time when they practiced their class skit.

The morning, then afternoon flew by, and soon we were all saying "Ziajian!" the word I taught all of them at the beginning of the day after they had asked a little bit about me. The word for goodbye in Chinese. With the first day done, I went on to meet a friend and share my day, stories of chuckles and head-nodding falling from my mouth one after another.

The Colors of Fall and Halloween Fun

October brought fall, a season that I hadn't experienced in two years of living in China. Brian, one of the original Panzhihua 4, shared how it was his favorite season while we were abroad. I seemed to have forgotten all the things I loved about fall till I looked out my bedroom one morning and hit me with breathtaking beauty that had snuck up on me with such subtleness that it nearly knocked me over.


My parents property has always been the epitome of beauty, the seasons telling of itself in the trees, unable to hide even the slightest change. One has to watch closely, because when eyes are averted, if even for minutes it sometimes seems, things change in the largest proportions that leaves one in disbelief.


The colors here seem more rich than elsewhere, maybe because of the love affair with time, of knowing the earth so personally here in a way that I know no other.

With the coming and meandering of fall came my ever growing (even after continuous completions) 'Soak-Up Americana' list. Back in China I started compiling a list of things that I wanted to experience once back in America for fear of forgetting all to easily the things and experiences that I craved, once again falling into the trap of taking all that home has to offer for granted.

I spent at least one day a week, if not a few, heading out to Marengo Ridge, a park about fifteen minutes away from my place with trails that wrap around and through the wilderness, a place that is tucked away and often forgotten about. I've gone to get out, soak in sun, and breath in the air. I love the smell and the sound of the leaves as they are kicked up by shuffling feet mesmerizes me. It's a spot that I love sharing, reminding people of, and introducing them to. A place that holds memories that I still hear whisperings of carried on the breeze between the trees.

And then quickly came Halloween, with mist hoovering above dew soaked grass, making a known land look mystical. The leaves started falling more rapidly, in places covering the entire ground in yellows, reds, and golds. Apple picking, pumpkin carving, and dressing in costume were all in order, and so I went to task as best as I could. I went with Gran to an orchard, picking up cider, yummy donuts, and mouth-watering apple butter. A week or so later I ventured out with Lyd to her favorite orchard to take in all things fall. The aroma of freshly baked cider donuts made me hungry, not to mention the countless other goodies that were set-up everyone one looked.

Back at my place, pumpkin carving commenced. Over an old, plastic table cloth, Lydia and I went to work, first cutting the whole in the top and then scraping out the seeds. The goo is the trickiest part for me. I hate the stuff. It brings out my gag reflex like nothing else. Just one feel of the slimy grossness and... ugh, excuse me. So I use a spoon to scrap it all away then turn it upside down and beat on the gourd to get everything out. Lyd, on the other hand, totally hardcore, going at it and even saving the seeds.

Soon we were both carving, me feeling like my imagination was failing me, all jack-o-lantern creativity long gone. I continued though, bound and determined to have something that would glow with the light of a candle by the end. Skills lacking, it was fun cutting into the pumpkin, seeing what would transpire. As soon as Lyd and I finished, we grabbed candles, lit them, placed the candles inside, and turned off the lights. My pumpkin wasn't impressive in the least, but I still ahh'd in the magic that seemed to emit from it's core.




Before I knew it, I was trying like mad to think of costumes. I wanted a great costume, my last one of a cat and the one prior as a hippy, flower child, not the most amazing of ideas. So I started making a list, came up with what I thought were great ideas, only to realize they would be too hard to make or that others would just simply not get them. And so put off by my indecisiveness, I didn't have a costume till the day of my friend's party when I was rummaging through Mom's stuff downstairs and found an old hospital gown. At first I tried it on with a set of angel wings I had from years ago, the idea of being a fallen angel being the end goal. It was okay, but I wanted something more. With the wings off and the gown still on, an idea came to my head, and before I knew it I was out the door and heading to the next town to find a fake butt. I never would have thought that I would ever be asking anyone for one of those in a store!


Michelle's party was a hoot, complete with jello shots in syringes that had one guy telling me every hour that I needed more medicine. What is a patient to do?

An International Fall, a Crash, and Surgery - all in a week's work for Mom

Paul, my Peace Corps friend, arrived at Mom and Dad's in the afternoon on Friday, September 28th. Within minutes after his arrival, Per (our cousin in Norway) was calling, telling me that Mom had fell and that I needed to call Dad right away. What? She fell? NO! Minutes later I was on the phone with Dad, who told me that they had tried to speed things up to catch a train when Mom fell, landing her in the hospital with two broken bones in her ankle.

That might seem like the worst of it, but then because Mom is a foreigner the hospital had to take precausionary measures, which meant putting her in isolation. Mom was told that it would be best to fly home and then have the surgery that she needed. All of this meant that while Mom was surrounded by white walls, Dad, when not sporting his doctor getup while visiting Mom, was a travel agent and nurse. Talk about a crash course in learning new skills!

Three days later and many calls to Oslo to speak with Dad to find out the latest and then calls to Dave out in Washington to share the news, I was picking them up at O'Hare on the first of October, eight days earlier than originally planned. I was excited and nervous, wondering how they would both be holding up after such a whirl-wind of craziness that they had to figure out thousands of miles away from their comfort zone.

Back at home, it took Dad, I, a wheelchair, and a wooden board that makeshifted as a ramp to get Mom inside. It was tough for everyone, manuvering around, being helpful and not stepping onto each other.

The next morning, the three of us made our way to Mom's orthopedic doctor, where she was told she would be having surgery the next day and was then given the option of checking into the hospital that day. Was there really anything to think about? After a general check-up with her internist and a quick lunch, Mom was checked into the hospital.

Dad, Gran Meyer, and I visited with Mom that night and again in the morning before surgery.





The surgery went well and without complication, which was a relief to all. Going under and all that bit - scary.

I went to visit Mom in the evening, thinking that after almost six hours she'd be mentally up and at 'em, but the drugs were still holding her down. She would start talking, sharing something, then her voice would get softer and soon her words turned into 'daba, daba' and just like that she was out. It was cute, making me realize all of the times my own family had witnessed me in a medically-drug induced state of out-of-it. I held her hand and sat next to her, knowing just how nice it is to wake up next to someone when alone in a hospital.

A few days later, Mom was told out of the blue that she could head home. I was visiting at the time, so I stayed and waited out the paperwork till she could be released. I was excited for her to be home again, feeling as if she had never really arrived.

A Walk With a Purpose

When I was younger, I mean as in child years, I did the Crop Walk.  I signed up and asked people to pledge money to raise money for the hungry.  I have good memories of those times, the feeling of doing something for others being amazing.  

And so when I came back to Woodstock this summer and heard through our church about the Walk for Hunger, I immediately signed up.  Thinking that I would like to recruit someone to do it with me, I grabbed another form.  

Recruit in mind, I went over to my friend Sarah's house and asked if I could see her oldest, Rachael.  My timing wasn't the best, doors already closed with kids tucked into bed behind them.  (Single girl; silly girl.)  I told Rae about the walk.  I felt my teaching skills fail me, as my explanation seemed sub par.  To my fascinated surprise, however, she was interested, really interested.  I told her how to fill out the form and raise money and with that I gave her a hug.  The smile on my face was huge, the feeling of sharing in the gift of giving with someone else like her more exciting than anything.  

Days later, we waited in the Woodstock Square for the walk to start, both of us sitting in the grass.  As soon as everyone was called to come together, we got up and joined in.  Before long everybody was on there way.

Rae and I talked about school and life while we walked.  I loved hearing about things that she deals with, boys and friends, and her thoughts on them.  

The walk was long, but we kept each other going with thoughts of custard and being finished.  By the end I was so proud of her that I couldn't help but gush and say over and over just how proud I was of her.

It was remarkable to see Rae want to make a difference and I was so happy to be there and see it.  

The Peace Corps Returned - My First Volunteer Visit

On the Wednesday before the call from Norway telling of Mom's fall, I received a call at ten o'clock at night, my mind mid-drift being jogged out enough to answer the phone. It was Paul, the one and only, calling from St. Louis. I thought he called to talk, a nightcap of intellectual exchange, but the greeting quickly turned to matters of business. "I was thinking of coming up." My mind raced, mentally pinching myself to make sure I wasn't still dreaming. "Come up, come up," in all was what I said over again and again, amidst my laughing at him suddenly joining my seemingly drama-filled life. (People from my past having suddenly and momentarily thrown me for a few loops.) How could I turn down his offer? Before long the phone call was over and I laid back in bed and mused at the thought of seeing a friend that was part of my life in China here in my hometown, two worlds colliding.

Friday after my afternoon run, I showered and got ready, nervous excitement coursing my bloodstream in anticipation of seeing my friend. Before long he was ringing the doorbell to my parents abode and I was outside grinning at the sight of him. With a hug and a welcome, I showed him inside and introduced him to Gran.

On the way back to my place, my cell and the already foretold call from Per came, making the weekend with Paul busier than I or he had anticipated.

Back in Chengdu (Sichuan, China), it was all about good food and drink over amazing conversation when Paul and I met up, so we decided our standards had to be continued. Gourmet pizza, lasagna, and red wine fit to a T. We reminisced about our life in the East, two sets of memories setting us off in story sharing. At one point I even marveled while being overwhelmed at the conversations happening around us, voices that for the past two years were always blocked out, but now were understood and so were pulling me into eavesdropping mode when I least expected it. Towards the end of the meal, our waitress asked if we needed anything, then said she would just leave us alone as it looked like we were having a wonderful time.



The next day it was pancakes for everyone. After more phone calls to Dad in Norway, Paul and I climbed into my car and drove to Chicago. I had been to the city to see Lyd, but hadn't really spent much time downtown since being back. I looked at the city with a new eye, a few things new since I'd last seen it, like the face fountains that people sloshed and splashed in underneath the ever changing faces.


We meet up with a friend of Paul's for lunch. The friend had been living in Japan with his girlfriend, so meeting up with them in Chicago was the main purpose of heading in. While Paul and his friend talked, the friend would look over at the girlfriend and they'd start speaking in Japanese, leaving me in awe at having such a connection and speaking secretly in front of anyone. Hugs went around at the end of the meeting, so Paul and I got one in.


After waving goodbye and parting, Paul and I decided to walk around. I took him into the Chicago Library, a place I had been to in high school on a field trip and not since. It was as mystical as I had remembered, the onion dome at the top wanting to prompt me underneath, lay down beneath it's glow and get lost in it. Sadly, there were too many people around. I inspected all of the mosaics, magical pieces throwing light, sending twinkles through the air. The Building of Old School Enchantment ended with a spotting of a dog in shades. Enchanted indeed.

We walked, stopped in at Fannie May's, and meet up with Lyd for a quick coffee during her break. It was oddly wonderful for my two friends to meet, both of them knowing each other through me yet strangers, my worlds colliding even more.





My favorite part, besides the meeting of friends, was the Bean. It's mirrored shell reflected and distorted, turning it into a picture taking wonderland. I remembered how my parents took Chen Lan (my friend from China) there and mused how I was then there with Paul. The reflection I saw just seemed to say it all.

Out of the Blue - A Job Possibility

On the third full day that I was home came Sunday, a day for church and being reunited with my church family. But that was not to be all.

We got our lawn chairs from the car and made our way to the outdoor worship area. Mom was up with her Praise Team, the singers for the outdoor service, and Gran Meyer, Dad, and I made ourselves comfortable in the shade of a large tree, the lawn still clinging to dewdrops seeming to unroll itself from slumber. It was serene to sit there, breathe in in the fresh morning air, and see faces that I've known for years.

Within minutes I was out of my seat and going over to a family friend, a person that had seen me grow as I babysat her kids. Tears came to my eyes as we hugged, overwhelmed with happiness and the familiarity. We talked and caught up, then parted with another hug as she had a few things to do before the service.

As I turned to walk back, I spotted yet another familiar face - a woman that ten years ago hired me to work for the special needs district of our area as a one-on-one. I walked over to her as my head struggled to remember her name and then recalled it in a flash. Soon we were quickly catching up and I asked if she had joined the church. She said that she hadn't, that she had just come for one time to enjoy the outdoor service, then asked me what I was up to. I said with a laugh and a twinkle of hope in my eye that I was looking for a full-time teaching job. With that, she said, "Well, here is someone that you should talk to then." Next to her, her sister and the new principal of an elementary school in town. We were introduced and then the service started, but I was told we would have to talk after the service.

I enjoyed the service, the signing, the slight breeze that showed itself off in the waving leaves on the tops of the surrounding trees. As soon as the service ended, the principal was soon at my side, reintroducing herself, asking for my name once again, and then telling me to stop by to schedule an interview. Seconds after I thanked her and we said goodbye, I turned to my family, the biggest smile having overcome my face, having spread from my lips to my eyes, my checks and into a happy and excited laugh.

My family, every night before bed, goes in with my gran and they pray. They pray for many things, health, understanding, to share thanks, and for the past few months, for me to find a job. The fact that it had been the first time I had gone back to my church in two years, that my former boss would be visiting on the day I was there, and would have her sister, a principal looking for one last teacher to hire, well it's amazing.

I have an interview on Wednesday, August 1st. There is tough competition for it, as there are still many teachers looking for jobs. People keep patting my arm and saying that I am a shoe-in, and I just keep hoping that they are right. I want this job because it is who I am. It's only been weeks and I miss teaching, and so I am hoping that I am chosen to be a fourth grade teacher.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

The Two Month Mark

Exactly two months from today, in just eight weeks, I will be leaving Panzhihua, my home for the past two years.  Outside my window, birds chirp as thunder threatens, all else quiet for the xiuxi (rest) hour.  The storm reflects my own feelings, a swirling mix of emotions.  I've lived abroad and elsewhere before, have experienced life within various cultures and people, and I can't count how many times I've cried as I've had to say goodbye.  This, however, is different.  

As the rain starts to fall, hitting the metal sheeting above everyone's windows, enhancing the music of the elements, I think of my life here.   A life that I love.  

The other day after class, I walked past a worker at the school mowing the grass.  The scent of fresh cut grass wafted to my nose as the buzz of the engine filled my ears.  Within seconds I was back home on the mower, the wind catching grass clippings and throwing them into the air like confetti, forcing me to close my eyes briefly as it covered me.  I closed my eyes and fell back into the moment, enjoying being home, if even for a second.  

Everyone talks about readjusting to life in America, the reverse culture shock that oftentimes gets ignored or forgotten about.  Being overwhelmed in a grocery store or breaking into sobs for no apparent reason being just some of the stories that are told to help us understand how big of a change it all is.  

I'm excited to go back.  Thrilled beyond a doubt to wake up and hug each member of my family with the start of a new day.  To drive.  Oh, to put on my music and drive through the countryside, windows down, singing to music.    To have a portabello mushroom with feta cheese and garlic sandwich.  To sit in a theater and watch a movie.  Go out to a wine bar.  Walk around barefoot on the lawn.  It's the small things and the everyday moments with my loved ones that I miss and am so anxious to get back to.

Yet, as I think about leaving China, the rain pouring harder now, tears coming to my eyes, I shake my head at the thought of leaving.  It is suddenly so near when it used to feel like I had so much time.  When I think about everything I'm leaving, students, friends, family, I get overwhelmed and shake my head some more, as if trying to convince myself that it isn't for real.  

All to soon, when I am back in Illinois, I will be having the same moments of China.  Something will catch me and hold me in my place, transporting me back here to everyone and everything I love.  

To feel so excited and happy and at the same time just as terribly sad is utterly confusing and hard.  And as the rain lessens and the sun tries to breakthrough the clouds, I smile because this is China.  

Through the Curve

This morning I woke up early and was able to get stuff done, which made me feel good. The feeling didn't last long. My phone rang just as my watch had turned eight and on the other end was one of my monitors (a student in charge of his/her class) saying that their class had started. Since the first session has always begun at eight-twenty, I was rather confused. He said it again and being confused even more, I thought he had said they had another class. What?! He explained yet again, saying that the school had changed the schedule.

At school I ran up the stairs and made it to the classroom. Once I could talk without taking in gasps of air, I asked about the schedule. The students then shared that it had been a school-wide change which had been decided before the break and, apparently, someone had forgotten to mention this.

After class I went to the waiban (foreign affairs) to say hello to everyone. Once there, Jenny slyly said that she had a surprise for me - she's been accepted into a university in Austria to get her masters! On top of that, she'll be starting this September. I was so excited and happy for her, that I have her a huge hug. I can't believe she will be living abroad and am so excited for her! Then Cable, another lady in the office, said that she was accepted to study in another province for her degree. Talk about good news!

When I had been filled in by everyone on all the details of their news, I crossed the hall into Jennifer's office to catch up with her. We asked about each other's holiday, talked about Chen Lan (Sara) coming back from America, and then my brother's visit and my leaving. Suddenly, there was tearing up from across the desk. I got up, rounded the desk to Jennifer and gave her a hug, joking that she had to stop because it was too early for that and if I started I wouldn't be able to stop. It touched my heart and I suddenly began to realize just how big my leaving would be.

On the walk home I felt like everything was different from before. I felt like I'd been going down the same path for the past two years, and having rounded a corner in a road, suddenly everything was totally changed and there was no looking back, not even a glance being possible. From a friend moving to Austria to my service coming to a close, even right down to the school schedule changing, everything seemed to have morphed into something else, leaving me confused as I tried to remember just what was.

Ambassadors from the Past

I am lucky enough keep in touch with a lot of people from my childhood, among them family friends Sharon and Chuck Little.  We belonged to the same church, spent time as families together, and later was coached on the volleyball team under Sharon.  So we go back.  

About a year ago, Chuck and Sharon both wrote me saying that they were looking into coming out to China on a trip.  Then, months later, they had booked a trip and wrote me saying that they hoped to meet up.  I wrote the date on the calendar and went back to my life, the possibility of meeting up months away from thought.  Suddenly, months had passed and Sharon and Chuck were leaving for China.  My COS was the same weekend that they would be in Chengdu, so we shared contact info and hopes of meeting up with each other.  

I wasn't even sure if I would have time to see my family friends, but the morning after the COS conference and with the help from Paul in getting directions, a said goodbye to my friends and lugged my bag and my heavy heart into the cab.

I sat in the restaurant waiting for the Littles, not even really thinking about the meeting, my head swimming with the emotions of the end of my Peace Corps experience.  Then I heard a group of people approaching and looked up to see Chuck and Sharon.  Suddenly my heart was overflowing, my eyes accompanying it, unprepared for the feelings that were suddenly stirred up at seeing people from my past.  We all ran to each other.  Hugging them, I felt as if they were my Mom and Dad's ambassadors, people that had seen me throughout my life and been nothing but concerned, interested, supportive, and loving.  I cried, thinking how lucky I felt to have them there.  

We talked, laughed, and shared stories, them just coming from Tibet and full of ideas and feelings, me being able to listen and totally understand.  They introduced me to the other travelers in their cozy group and asked me to talk to them all for a bit and tell them about my life as a volunteer teacher in China.  Since we were meeting over lunch just before the Littles had to leave to catch their flight back to America, I asked if I could join them on their bus, not wanting the visit to be over.  

At the airport, we hugged for the last time, bring a fresh stream of tears to my eyes and spilling down my cheeks.  Sharon hugged me once more, saying how proud she was of me, that she had known I would be something way back when. I watched them as they walked towards and through the gates, waving each time Sharon looked back.

The visit was over before I knew it, but was more meaningful than I had even thought possible.

Arranging the Center

After all of my classes, I headed to the center with Windex, Endust, and rags. As soon as I got there, I unloaded my bags and got to work on cleaning everything off from all of the dust that coated the new furniture. With every wipe, I became more and more excited as the vision of a completed center filled my mind.

Before long, Vicki, Sara, Chimi, and Rebecca, all former students, had arrived. (I had called them earlier in the day, asking them for their help.) As soon as they all walked through the doorway, their eyes went wide and ah's escaped from their lips. We quickly went to work moving the furniture around, coordinating the layout in my head with the actual space. While we carried and then adjusted each piece of furniture, the girls continued to look at everything that the English Department had purchased, saying, "I can't believe they bought this all for us," time and time again.

Once everything was finally in it's place, I invited them to sit down with me. We looked over the room, trying to decide if everything was where it should be. With their keen eyes, they made some suggestions, and together we made a few more moves. With all of us feeling like everything was finally perfect, we sat down once again while continuing to look over the room. There were sofas and chairs to foster discussions and relaxation, shelves waiting to be filled, tables and chairs for being leaned over while working on homework or for holding a game of Connect Four, and four listening stations. We all sat in silence briefly, all of us in a quiet awe of what was to be.

My former students, now friends, started discussing the center. All of them continued to be amazed at the fact that the department was creating such a place for it's students. They said that it not only would be the best place on campus for the students, but that it would encourage interest and improvement in English majors that are discouraged, not to mention non-English majors. By having the center, the girls said, they they felt like the department and university really cared about them.


Since I and everyone else seemd to be having such a great time, I invited them all out for shao kao (bbq). With the exchange of glances, everyone shook their head in agreement. Before I headed out the door, I took one last look. After a year, my dream for the students was finally coming true.

A Soon-To-Be Center

It's after midnight and I should be going to bed. I can even hear my students' caring voices saying, "Amanda, you have been sick. You need your rest," but I'm too excited to rest!

Last year when Steve (my former sitemate) was here in Panzhihua, an idea for an English Center formed and stuck after seeing pictures of friends' Anna and Jacob's office. Panda (Panzhihua University's nickname) supplied us a great office, but after seeing what could be created, my head started spinning with the endless possibilities of what opportunity having such a place at my university would create, not only for my students, but for any students or teachers interested in English. After introducing the idea to my two deans in the English department, they said that it was a good plan and that they would see what they could do.

These things do take time, as permission has to be granted for a space and money found to support such a proposal. Time went by and I checked in every so often to hear about the process of the plans.

During the first week back at school in March, I was promptly informed two things: a new dean would be working with me to set up the center and a space had been choosen. Mr. Wang, my new partner, and I agreed to meet a day later at the center to check out the space. When Mr. Wang opened the door and went, my eyes were in disbelief. It was such a wonderful space. Light streamed in from large windows and there was space galore for students to spread out and talk, play games with one another, or read. It was perfect!


A few days after seeing the room for the center, I meet Mr. Wang again. This time we discussed more thoroughly ideas for the center, and most importantly, what was needed to make the room a center that would encourage students to spend time there. We talked about comfortable sofas and shelves, things that would entice and make people want to linger, encouraging conversations. Together we drew up a list of detailed items of everything we thought the center should have. What was even more exciting than the coming together of the center, was working with Mr. Wang. He seemed to be just as excited as I was, saying, "Let's make it the best it possibly can be for the students!" It was so enthrawling for me to hear and work with someone else who saw just how wonderful it really could be.

This evening, and about a month later, I gave a lecture on university life in America. Before the lecture started, Mr. Wang came into the classroom, and told me that the center was getting on it's way. There was furniture and could I come and see it. I smiled and said sure, thinking it was just a few pieces here and there.

My lecture went smoothly, a little faster than I thought it would, but as always, finished off with interesting questions from curious students, mostly non-English majors. This was my second lecture of the new semester, which will hopefully be followed by two more. (I want to give one a month.) I really enjoy speaking to the students, as I feel more available to students that otherwise may not have a chance to talk with me.

Once the lecture was over, Mr. Wang led me and two of my former students, Hanker and Frank, to the center. We were then joined by two other teachers, and before I knew it, the door was open, the lights flickered on, and I was staring out in amazement. It was AWESOME! All of the furniture that I had asked for, and extra, was there, and more had yet to arrive. I was so excited that I did a little jump, a little to intimidated to do a full on jig. I walked from place to place, checking everything out carefully as if it might disappear before my eyes.There were four sofas, two more than I had asked for (and by no means a small thing to double up on), end chairs, tables of various sizes, a fantasically huge t.v., shelves for more books than we have, and even magazine racks. I was so wonderfully bewildered that I didn't even notice the wood floor that had been newly laid over the cement. I just couldn't believe it! There was really going to be a center for the students!

I fished out my camera and started snapping shots, small lightbulbs flashing in the room as I captured everything. I asked Mr. Wang to join me in a picture, feeling so honored and lucky to be working with a man that had such a vision.


Througout all of my smiles, lit-up eyes, and a few more little hopping sessions, I looked at Hanker and Frank, asking them repeatedly, "Isn't this fantastic?!" I then realized that these two former students of mine, students that I've laughed with and talked with ever since I first came to Panzhihua, students that have even meet and talked with my parents when they were here, were sharing this wonderful moment with me. They were the first students to be in the new center, and I was suddenly more grateful then before. This, afterall, was for them. Hanker and Frank asked for a picture of the three of us, one that I am glad that they asked for. I'd want to remember this.

Before the lights went out and the door closed behind us, I took one last look, envisioning how it would all come together to create what was once only a possibility of a dream.

More Than Your Average Check-Up - A Weekend In Chengdu

A week passed after my check-up in Panzhihua and I still wasn't better, so Joanne, the Peace Corps doc, said I should come in for a physical and more tests.  I went to the office right away and then meet Paul for lunch, my Chengdu bud and contact whenever I'm in town.  We hung out for hours talking outside, enjoying the beautiful weather.


The next morning, Paul and I went back to the office to get the results of my tests.  In Joanne's office and once seated, she looked at me and told me I had walking pneumonia and seemed to be on the tail end of it.  Huh?  What exactly is the difference between the regular and walking kind anyway?  I was given the prescription of eating good, resuming coffee drinking to help me through the feelings of utter exhaustion when needed, and rest, rest, rest.

Paul and I ate out once again, our conversation running the gamete that I always thoroughly enjoy.  

Feeling restless, the two of us wandered a bit, stumbling across the Olympics countdown sign in the city and helmets that whispered, "Rodger that."




Yup, that's a bogey.

Celebrating A Birthday With Jiaozi and Cake

When Jiujiu (my meimei) was visiting me down here in Panzhihua, one day when we went for fried noodles, we met and started talking to Vicki and her mother.  Vicki and her mom were instantly friendly, both of them talking to be me and Jiujiu.  I immediately liked Vicki, her smile and eyes exuding a kindness that you don't often see from someone you just met.  By the end of our meal, she said she would like to be friends and I gave her my telephone number and e-mail address.  During the past few months we had been e-mailing back and forth, and finally met up when one of my former students brought her to my office hours.  I was so happy to see her.  Since then, we've been friends, me feeling like I had added one more sister to my ever-growing extended family.  

When Vicki invited me to celebrate her birthday with her and her family, I just couldn't say no.  I was delighted!  She picked me up at 11 o'clock in her parents car, the first student I've known that I've seen drive since being here in China.  (Most students and many other people don't have cars, as getting a license and a car are prohibitively expensive, not to forget the fact that there aren't many parking lots around.) 

Up the stairs and in her parents home, we sat on the couch and talked.  Shortly after Chimi came, my former student now a junior and Vicki's English tutor.  It was great having them both there.  Before long, Vicki's mom brought in the makings for jiaozi, dumplings.  I started stuffing the little wrappers, surprising all at my ability, thanks to my terrific host family having taught me when I was living with them in Chengdu.  Then I started rolling the dough out, and more eyes widened.  It was great sitting there with such fantastic people as we prepared part of Vicki's birthday meal.  

When the jiaozi was ready, Vicki's parents boiled the finished dumplings. We then cleaned up and sat down to some of Vicki's favorite dishes that her father had prepared for her.  The meal was scrumptious, the jiaozi as tasty as ever.  

After dinner, Vicki's mom brought in the cake.  We all sang "Happy Birthday," first in Chinese, then English.  Vicki then tried to mark me with frosting, a tradition that I am still not quite sure where it comes from and seems not to be complete without. Being the guest, however, I think I was dubbed the honorary target.  I avoided it with grace and we all dug into the cake.  

A few hours later we were all full and tired, another birthday successfully rung in.