En Flux

I often wish I knew who was reading this blog, if for no other reason than it would afford me opportunities to be like, "Hey there, Pria-from-Texas! What are your thoughts on thus-and-such?" As it is, I can only see a map of the world, and it shows things like "12 people logged in from an Android phone!" I fail to see how this is useful information, but I look at it anyway and feel some sort of kinship with the 12 people. They never leave me any comments or thoughts, but sometimes it's comforting to look at the number and imagine that they are having empathetic feelings.

I need the empathetic feelings because I hate the building where I live now that Gigi has left. When I moved in 5 years ago, I was coming from a bunch of 1-year leases here, there, and everywhere. This apartment was the first place I really felt safe. I used to lean against the door and take a deep breath every time I got home, relishing the fact that I had a home and no one could ask me to leave it, as long as I paid my rent on time and didn't have loud parties.

But then about a year ago, this terrible woman took over as the property manager. She and Gigi used to go head-to-head with each other all the time. One time, she sent Gigi 6 separate texts, ALL CAPS, about how Gigi better not try to screw her over on rent! Another time, Gigi's shower leaked so badly that water and dirt started pouring down into my bathroom from the ceiling. When I was unable to reach our landlady, I called the old landlord (her relative) and she FREAKED OUT about how inappropriate that was. Suffice to say, I hate interacting with her and what used to be a very pleasant place to live has since become unpleasant enough to consider leaving.

On that note, I have now applied for hundreds of jobs, all over the world, to no avail. I was so close to Blue Springs (and getting really excited about it -- so excited that I threw away all my teaching material for my current district!). But then they went with the candidate who had an advanced degree in English instead of in Education.

Fine, I said to myself. I, too, can get an advanced degree in English. I've had an idea for another Master's thesis taped to my fridge for 3 years. This will merely force me to take the steps necessary to get said degree. But first, I better make sure having a dual Master's won't bite me in the ass in the long run.

Ergo, I made an appointment with my boss's boss's boss, a woman I worked with some years ago at the district level. I like her level of smart-assery and I'm not sure why she likes me. Possibly because I strike her as a Hopeless Case.

"Donna," I said to her, "I need to leave this district. I'd like to try high school, but I'd also teach middle school if it meant getting out of here."

Donna said, "Are you willing to relocate?"

"Yes," I said, thinking that perhaps she would go over some options of places where she had contacts.

Instead, she picked up the phone, called a friend, and said, "Hey, it's Donna. Gotta' good teacher here. Wants to teach high school English. You have anything? Okay, call me back if you hear something."

It wasn't until after this that I was informed that I'd have to move to Fort Leonard Wood (which I always thought was Fort Lindenwood). I do not even know if there is anything there, besides camouflage.

One thing led to another and Donna told me, "They like your resume. You have amazing references and look phenomenal on paper. I'm sticking my neck out here for you getting you an interview," and before I could even catch my breath I was Skyping the principals. Then, BAM! They called me 2 hours later. Would I like to teach in Fort Leonard Wood?

This is all happening way too fast. Yes, I hate my apartment building. And yes, I feel like I am dying at the district I'm in now. But is that a reason to leave a city full of culture and art and music and things like THIS:

??? I think we can all agree that I am a City Girl. I would not do well living in the middle of cornfields (unless those cornfields contain New Town, which I love). My soul might die a different kind of death if I were living in Fort Lindenwood, staring at camouflage all day long instead of going to the Fox or the Art Museum or volunteering in the city.

When I said I wanted to leave urban teaching for awhile, I was envisioning a nice job in the suburbs. Not a relocation to the smack-dab middle of the state where there is NOTHING for miles around.

But I feel like I have to take it because Donna was all, "I really stuck my neck out there for you." 

So, pros: military kids would provide an interesting contrast to who I've been teaching; military parents would probably be much more receptive to teacherly input than urban parents; I could have the opportunity to see if I like high school teaching; that's all the pros I can think of...

And cons: would have to pack up everything and move; I would be living 2 hours from anything remotely cosmopolitan; and I would have no friends; also, if I don't like it, there would be one more one-year position on my resume and Donna says those look bad. Really, can I afford a bad-looking resume?

My Dad's advice was, "I'm more worried about you attracting attention from the men stationed there." He would say that. I think my Dad lives to worry about me attracting undo attention from men. But the rest of his advice was, "Listen. Didn't you see that sign in Lucy's bathroom when we were visiting her yesterday? It said, 'But what if you fly, question mark.' That's how you have to look at this. Yeah, it might be terrible. BUT, it might also be great. You don't want to end up like my friend who just lived his whole life in misery because he was too afraid to try things!"

My brother said the same thing. Really, so did everyone. But it's easy for them to say that from this thriving metropolis when I'm the one would have to pack up everything I own, rent a truck, and drive to the middle of nowhere to forge a new life. I just don't know that I have that much Jane Eyre left in me.