When you choose to get on a plane and leave your friends and family behind to go galavanting about the world, people tend to call you one of two things; crazy or brave. I've never felt like either of those words really applied to me until this morning, but now I claim them both.
In my other blogs I have touched briefly on my motivation for exploration. Usually, it comes in the form of some magical anecdote about wild birds or cool people that I've met. Never have I ever claimed that abandoning my comfort zone was remotely uncomfortable; let's just say I don't do it to get in Dauntless faction, if you know what I mean. It's pure, unadulterated selfishness that puts my butt on a plane time and time again.
You know how I know I'm not brave? Because I never understood why people ask me, "Are you nervous?" before I leave. Sure, in the days before a trip, my heart rate is through the roof, my whole body is jittery, I can't sleep and if you ask my family they'll probably all tell you that I'm more than a little testy. However, all of these symptoms are merely explaining away my unfiltered excitement. The only anxiety I experience is about whether or not I'll miss my flight or misplace my passport. Perhaps that makes me "crazy" after all but wouldn't acknowledging a little crazy in and of itself negate said crazy?
When I woke up this morning, however, I was not the untethered free spirit that signed away 2 years of her life to the Peace Corps, nor was I the curious zoophile who dismissed traditional study abroad sites for something a little more out there, nor even was I the unexperienced little girl who spoke no more than 3 sentences of Spanish yet still decided to spend a whole summer in Spain just so she could change that fact. The excitement that I'd been nurturing for months was hijacked by something different entirely. It made me realize, that something that has also always been in place before any implementation of a brave or crazy decision was a peaceful state of mind and let's just say that I couldn't exactly claim my emotional stars to be what you'd call nicely "aligned."
Sometimes, all you need is the loving, warm arms of a parent or nearness to a friendly face. But, what do you do when unbearably raw vulnerability comes at the same time as your big trip to Thailand? You put on your big girl panties, don the "brave" badge, get on the freaking plane and follow through with the crazy idea to isolate yourself from everything and everyone that can make you feel better. You can also thank Buddha that there are blankets on the plane that you can hide yourself under when "adulting" overwhelms you a little too much.
I'm sharing all this annoying fluff because at the end of the day, this is just a new manifestation of the type of learning environment that I strive in- I guess the textbook scenario just got too easy to encourage further growth. Despite whether or not I got off on the right proverbial foot, I'm still moving forward with my heart and my commitment. To use the words of a "friend," I'm doing this for me because I love to travel and know the world, so what does all the other stuff matter? No matter what I'm leaving behind and the distress doing so has caused me, I owe it to myself and my future students to make the most of this adventure. In fact, maybe following my passion is just what I need to feel better.
Bottom line is everyone has bad days (which could actually probably turn into difficult weeks or even months) and while right this moment dumb quotes about struggle being part of your metamorphosis to the real you or whatever make me want scream until my teeth fall out... in the murky deep depths of my soul I know there's a grain of truth to them. It will be up to me to put pain in the past and start again with a fresh outlook. I've got about 8 more hours to buck up and the next time I write, I promise to leave the emo, sappy crap in Indiana. Nothing but beaches and elephants and pad thai from here on out! Wish me luck.
Friday, September 30, 2016
Thursday, September 29, 2016
One more sleep... Thailand, here I come!
What is your occupation?
A few months ago, I had to fill out an application for a Non-immigrant B Thai Visa in preparation for the trip I will be making tomorrow to Thailand to teach English. Filling out forms with your personal information is literally one of my favorite things to do- I think of it as a test that I will get an automatic A on and something about the mindlessness of it is fairly cathartic. That being said, I was rushing through it, naturally feeling better and better about myself with each filled box when I came to the question that I started this blog off with... "What is your occupation?" I stared at it for a minute, before hitting true panic mode. I had reached a question that I was not entirely sure how to answer.
Maybe it's not a given anymore that 25-year-olds have a knee jerk response to THE question. It's actually very possible that more than half of my friends would pause at the very same place on the Visa application with a slight frown and furrowed brow, but when you're answering a basic questionnaire about the thing you should know the absolute most about (YourSELF) and you get tripped up within the first 5 questions, it can't be good, right?
I'll save you all the suspense; I got the question answered and my application sent in and approved in time. However, recent Purdue grad Jesi would have balked if she'd known what present post Peace Corps Jesi considered to be her occupation on an official government document. You won't be surprised to know that I just took the easy route. What was I applying for the Visa for anyway? I obviously had to write down what they would expect of me. I wrote "Teacher."
I am not a teacher. Or at least, I'm not one yet. I don't have any type of teaching degree and while "education" was in my Peace Corps title, I certainly have never looked back on my 27 months in Mexico and said, "Yeah, I just got back from a teaching job abroad." However, while it was the first thing that did occur to me, you can't write, "Professional volunteer" as your occupation on every form forever, and I was really no longer "getting paid to survive" any longer so it seemed wrong for many reasons.
The other thing that occurred to me to write was, "Wildlife Biologist" as that is what my resume and diploma will say. What if someone picked apart my Visa application and demanded to see my transcripts? "You have to have x number of bonafide teaching credits to be able to claim such a prestigious job as your own."
Maybe that was it. Maybe I just felt like calling myself a "Teacher" was giving myself way too much credit. Maybe even though I knew that there was really only one way to answer the question, I hesitated so much because I lacked the confidence to accept the responsibility as my own. I am, and always have been, so much more comfortable with the title of "student." No one relies on you when you're just a student. The only person you can truly disappoint is yourself and even then you can always half-heartedly blame your teacher (like my college Spanish literature teacher who literally tricked me into signing a paper to accept that I would receive a well-deserved A in her class when all along she knew that there were more grades to add and she had been unjustly harsh on a particular test...maybe it's time to get over that?). The bottom line is, a teacher can make or break someone's entire learning experience. A teacher can have as much, if not more, influence on a child than his or her own parents do. In Thailand specifically, I have read that teachers are worthy of the utmost respect from anyone of all walks of life.
Furthermore, I knew in the back of my mind that I just as well should have written, "Occupation: English speaker," since that was the only thing that qualified me to be heading out across the entire world (seriously, if you haven't already, find a globe and put one finger on Indiana and one finger on Thailand and you'll see that there is literally no place on the planet that is further from home for me) to become a "Teacher."
It's a lot of pressure. Add on the language thing (everyone I've talked to about Thai language just kind of sucks in their breath and slowly shakes their head as if to say, "Get used to disappointment") and you've got one hell of a... what?... adventure?... I'm afraid it could also just as easily turn out to be a mess.
I've taught English in a foreign language before, I might as well point out. However, these were biweekly 2 hour classes in another tongue in which I happen to be fluent, not at all equivalent to the 9-5, 5 day a week task I'm undertaking in a language that doesn't even share my alphabet.
Just like Peace Corps, I do get a training first! I won't just be dropped in a school as soon as my feet find solid ground, expected to make hundreds of youngsters bilingual by February... but sometimes even a month of Thai language classes, cultural immersion, and TESOL (Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages) certification doesn't seem sufficient. I have to keep reminding myself that this discomfort is what took me to meet lions in East Africa and what got me fluent in Spanish and what I thrive on. It's the high that I've been chasing ever since I got comfortable in Mexico and, if I'm honest, this job will be the biggest test of my travel bravery and wanderlust, yet. That being said, I can't wait.
I may know three words in Thai language, but I can't wait to be able to one day hold an entire conversation in my third language. I may be the furthest from home I can ever go, but I can't wait to behold sights that I know I am one of a lucky few who ever will. I may miss my family and my friends, but I can't wait to make memories that I can bring back to share with them and I can't wait to make even more friends. I may doubt the crap out of my abilities as a full-time English teacher, but guess what? I honestly can't wait to give it a try and see how it all turns out.
A few months ago, I had to fill out an application for a Non-immigrant B Thai Visa in preparation for the trip I will be making tomorrow to Thailand to teach English. Filling out forms with your personal information is literally one of my favorite things to do- I think of it as a test that I will get an automatic A on and something about the mindlessness of it is fairly cathartic. That being said, I was rushing through it, naturally feeling better and better about myself with each filled box when I came to the question that I started this blog off with... "What is your occupation?" I stared at it for a minute, before hitting true panic mode. I had reached a question that I was not entirely sure how to answer.
Maybe it's not a given anymore that 25-year-olds have a knee jerk response to THE question. It's actually very possible that more than half of my friends would pause at the very same place on the Visa application with a slight frown and furrowed brow, but when you're answering a basic questionnaire about the thing you should know the absolute most about (YourSELF) and you get tripped up within the first 5 questions, it can't be good, right?
I'll save you all the suspense; I got the question answered and my application sent in and approved in time. However, recent Purdue grad Jesi would have balked if she'd known what present post Peace Corps Jesi considered to be her occupation on an official government document. You won't be surprised to know that I just took the easy route. What was I applying for the Visa for anyway? I obviously had to write down what they would expect of me. I wrote "Teacher."
I am not a teacher. Or at least, I'm not one yet. I don't have any type of teaching degree and while "education" was in my Peace Corps title, I certainly have never looked back on my 27 months in Mexico and said, "Yeah, I just got back from a teaching job abroad." However, while it was the first thing that did occur to me, you can't write, "Professional volunteer" as your occupation on every form forever, and I was really no longer "getting paid to survive" any longer so it seemed wrong for many reasons.
The other thing that occurred to me to write was, "Wildlife Biologist" as that is what my resume and diploma will say. What if someone picked apart my Visa application and demanded to see my transcripts? "You have to have x number of bonafide teaching credits to be able to claim such a prestigious job as your own."
Maybe that was it. Maybe I just felt like calling myself a "Teacher" was giving myself way too much credit. Maybe even though I knew that there was really only one way to answer the question, I hesitated so much because I lacked the confidence to accept the responsibility as my own. I am, and always have been, so much more comfortable with the title of "student." No one relies on you when you're just a student. The only person you can truly disappoint is yourself and even then you can always half-heartedly blame your teacher (like my college Spanish literature teacher who literally tricked me into signing a paper to accept that I would receive a well-deserved A in her class when all along she knew that there were more grades to add and she had been unjustly harsh on a particular test...maybe it's time to get over that?). The bottom line is, a teacher can make or break someone's entire learning experience. A teacher can have as much, if not more, influence on a child than his or her own parents do. In Thailand specifically, I have read that teachers are worthy of the utmost respect from anyone of all walks of life.
Furthermore, I knew in the back of my mind that I just as well should have written, "Occupation: English speaker," since that was the only thing that qualified me to be heading out across the entire world (seriously, if you haven't already, find a globe and put one finger on Indiana and one finger on Thailand and you'll see that there is literally no place on the planet that is further from home for me) to become a "Teacher."
It's a lot of pressure. Add on the language thing (everyone I've talked to about Thai language just kind of sucks in their breath and slowly shakes their head as if to say, "Get used to disappointment") and you've got one hell of a... what?... adventure?... I'm afraid it could also just as easily turn out to be a mess.
I've taught English in a foreign language before, I might as well point out. However, these were biweekly 2 hour classes in another tongue in which I happen to be fluent, not at all equivalent to the 9-5, 5 day a week task I'm undertaking in a language that doesn't even share my alphabet.
Just like Peace Corps, I do get a training first! I won't just be dropped in a school as soon as my feet find solid ground, expected to make hundreds of youngsters bilingual by February... but sometimes even a month of Thai language classes, cultural immersion, and TESOL (Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages) certification doesn't seem sufficient. I have to keep reminding myself that this discomfort is what took me to meet lions in East Africa and what got me fluent in Spanish and what I thrive on. It's the high that I've been chasing ever since I got comfortable in Mexico and, if I'm honest, this job will be the biggest test of my travel bravery and wanderlust, yet. That being said, I can't wait.
I may know three words in Thai language, but I can't wait to be able to one day hold an entire conversation in my third language. I may be the furthest from home I can ever go, but I can't wait to behold sights that I know I am one of a lucky few who ever will. I may miss my family and my friends, but I can't wait to make memories that I can bring back to share with them and I can't wait to make even more friends. I may doubt the crap out of my abilities as a full-time English teacher, but guess what? I honestly can't wait to give it a try and see how it all turns out.
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