Sunday, September 9, 2012

Routine is the New Adventure


Wellwhaddayaknow? It’s been over three months since I hopped on that first class flight to the land of no poptarts, a few English speakers, several feet of rain, hundreds of spiders, a thousand smiles, millions of hugs, and a billion mosquitoes. It marks the longest I’ve ever been away from home, but also the most content I’ve ever felt (although the two marks have nothing to do with each other). 

I certainly do not live a life of glamour. Every second is not full of adventure and romance or dramatic instances. In fact, most days are even quite Routine. In the past, Routine made me want to avert eye contact with him, catch the next plane to Anywhere, or plan for a new adventure. I was convinced that Routine would make my life boring, a grind of some sort, or that as soon as I acknowledged him, a chair would be pushed behind me, knock me off my feet (not in the way I desire), and ropes would come from that chair to tie me down to that particular place in time. And there, I’d be stuck forever

I stood there one day, holding my hands behind my back, staring down at the ground as I idly traced an invisible line back and forth with the tip of my toes. And then I lifted my head, stopped avoiding the gaze I knew was pointed in my direction, and looked Routine straight in the eye. The eye contact equivalent to waving my white flag. It was there I decided that maybe he wouldn’t be so bad. Since then, I’ve let Routine sidle up next to me on the bench where I’m reading, catch a ride with me to Muay Thai sessions, or walk (hand-in-hand even!) to our fruit stand to see Joy and Too (the owners).

Why is it here that I allow Routine to sneak his way into my daily life? And even more, why is it that I allow him to stay? Maybe because part of Routine is being bombarded with hugs, hundreds of them, as soon as I step foot on campus, by the cutest little babies in the whole world. Or hearing, “Teacha Kelsey, I luhs yous!” (love you) as many times as my ears could possibly handle throughout the day. Or getting extra fruit stuffed in my bag free of charge from Joy and Too every day just because they care. Or visiting Klaus, our amazingly kind and charming new German friend who not only owns one of the tastiest restaurants in town, but also walks us to and from our motorbike when we arrive and leave. Or it could be the five dollar one hour Thai massages we get every Saturday. Or maybe teaching English to the sweet gentleman at the college each weekend. Or getting together with the other few “farang” each week--you wouldn’t believe how wonderful it is to hear and speak English beyond a kindergarden level and be fully understood--something I’ll never take for granted again. Or the stops on the side of the road to get some coconut ice cream with sticky rice for 10 baht (next to nothing in USD). Or taking a long ride on the motorbike past the rice fields through the winding mountain roads deeper into the lush, green jungle to go play with the locals at the beautiful many-tiered Mae Phun waterfall. Or being greeted with enthusiasm by everyone in town, everywhere we go. Or...Or...Or...

I often get asked if I’m homesick. The answer is no. I don’t believe I get homesick. I don’t know if I’ve ever been homesick. Now before you go judging and thinking me to be cold-hearted, hear (read) me out. I love where I grew up, I love where I lived before this, I love where I am now, and I already love wherever I’ll explore next. Of course I miss home, but I’ve never pined after it, wishing and hoping I could be there. I miss my people more than I could ever miss any place because that’s undoubtedly what home has always been to me. There are times, especially when I was packing up to leave, that I felt so incredibly selfish to even be doing this. To leave the people for whom I live. Instead of wanting to be at home with them though, what I’ve wanted more is for them to be here, experiencing this with me. I feel like any pictures or blog posts could never do justice to what I see and live every day. I talk about my people like they are here with me. As if I’m just running errands and I’ll be back as soon as I’ve picked up my weekly jar of Nutella from the store-ha! as if a jar could ever last me as long as a week. When we’re running our laps around the track watching the soccer game on the field in the middle of it, I’ll ask Meredith to remind me to tell my brother (the soccer star) something. When my students and I got to open my first care package together from my sweet and thoughtful Crow mother, and I explained why she sent the things she did because I know the way she thinks (plus she sent a detailed letter describing each thing and why, so that helped;)When I see a new outfit in the windows of our favorite stores, I think “Kayla and Stephanie would die if they saw this.” When I hear a funny joke, I make a mental note to tell Big Lynn (my mom’s nickname--another story for another time). I probably think of Big Lynn the most-I know that there is so much about being here that she would love, and it makes me miss her constantly. 

There have been instances that have been harder than others, of course. When Cain Anne emailed me to tell me she was engaged, I cried. Out of happiness, of course, but also from the twinge of regret that I wasn’t there to receive the news on the phone and then join her in the celebrations in person. When my cousin/best friend Taylor started her second year in college, but moved into her first apartment, I had to see it for the first time via Skype instead of being there to hang her picture frames or decide in which cabinet her coffee cups should go. And speaking of coffee, I’m pretty sure the place I long for the most, you know, when you just have those longing moods, is Java Jolt, the place I called home probably more than any other location in the states. I truly miss stopping by morning, noon, and night for my 8th cup of coffee of the day. Sticking my head back in the kitchen to say hello to whoever of my best friends were working. Tying on an apron myself if it was my turn to work. Turning on the oven and the coffee maker on every Saturday morning at the start of my shift. Being tempted every time by each of the smells wafting their way around the shop. All the while, witty banter being exchanged among my Jolt family. My caring boss and Jolt owner, making it a place that none of us consider “work,” but instead “home.” Ok, I need to stop. It’s happening again. The longing. 

So I’ll have those little stolen moments for one thing or another, but then I’ll see an elephant walking down the street. Yes, simply and literally just walking down the street. And it’s not that it makes being without the people I love most in this world okay; it’s not that it makes me not miss them or think about them. But it sure does make it easier. It pulls me back to reality-the reality full of elephants--makes me thankful to be where I am, and reminds me to live in the moment. There’s never been a single moment where I’ve questioned if this is the place I’m supposed to be. 

As far as teaching experiences go, I can’t begin to compare. They are two different adventures entirely. Both have taken their toll on me, but have in turn doled out more than my fair share of rewards. I have poured my heart completely out to both jobs, so much so that I feel as if I must hang it up to recharge every night to have more to give the next day. In the states, I loved my job because I felt there might be some way that I could get through to the kids. Not just a love of proper grammar or literature, but of building good character or teaching them to love others. I could speak my first language of sarcasm with them, and they could (most of the time) understand and appreciate it. They could tell me about their drama, and I could play counselor. I developed such a connection with my OMS kiddos that when it came time to leave them, I cried so hard that I made myself sick. And while I could never classify the decision to leave them as the right one, I feel like ultimately, in the long run, it was the one that had to be made. And thankfully I did because it led me here to be in the lives of these kiddos, who couldn’t be more different. 

The schools, for one thing, are total opposites. I was being handed technology left and right in my classroom at OMS, and here I am cutting out pictures on cardboard to hold up and show the kids. While technology is a beautiful thing and can be such an excellent resource in the classroom, I sit in the office racking my brain for games to play and projects to assign that don’t require powerpoint presentations or things of the like. It’s undoubtedly broadened my teaching horizons and creative abilities to say the least. 

But in addition to broadening those aspects, this experience has also uncovered my true love for children. Thai children. I can’t get enough of them. Anyone who knows me pretty well could easily tell you that kids have never been on my “Things I’d Like to Have One Day” list. I’ve never cared for them, and the job of babysitting since I was 10 ultimately ended up being birth control for life. Don’t even get me started about screaming children in stores or restaurants. Or, heaven forbid, planes. I just can’t handle it. My degree is in Secondary Education for a reason. And while I still can’t stand those particular characteristics that come with kids, I have turned into someone I wouldn’t even recognize in my past life. If I see a small child here, I drop everything I’m doing and dote over it. And we see small children all the time. So naturally I’m constantly dropping things. For some reason, in fact, I specifically requested to teach the younger ages when I had my Skype interview with Dr. Nirund back in the Spring. I don’t know if it was an out of body moment or what, but my request has done me good because the moments I look forward to most during the school day are getting to work with the youngins. They run up to me countless times during the day, telling me God (or actually everyone but me) only knows what, and I smile and nod so much that I’m sure my face will slide right off. I’ve given up worrying about wrinkles--in fact, I’ll be proud to have the ones that have resulted from smiling and laughter. It’s one of the things I love most about my dad’s features--his laugh lines show that he’s found the humor and good in everything in life, and I strive to take after him in those (among so many other) aspects. I’ve never been a generally touchy-feely person either, but here I scoop up these babies left and right, hold hundreds of hands a day, and my lap is the place to be on the playground-and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This doesn’t change my mind about ever wanting to reproduce. I cherish my private, traveling, somewhat (ok, mostly) selfish life too much to make room for a child of my own. But the way I’ve grown attached to kids while teaching has taught me that it’s the only role I want to play, and I’ll set my mind to playing it to the best of my ability in whichever classroom I find myself in the world. 



One more thing that’s made it easier is looking at the scrapbook that my love Jessica (friends since we were, what, 6?) made me before I left. It’s full of pictures of us and a few of my other favorite people in the entire world. She made it travel sized so it fit perfectly in my carry-on, and it’s easily the most valuable thing I’ve got here with me. She knows I’m a lover of quotes, so she filled it with those too. The one that touched me the most was, no surprise to you all, from Harry Potter, added by request of the fabulous Lauren Riner, and proof that I have friends who truly understand me. The quote, even out of context, is the perfect explanation: 
“He must have known I'd want to leave you."
"No, he must have known you would always want to come back.” 

And come back, I will. Always. 

So that Routine guy? He ain’t so bad. And while every minute of every day of every month I spend here isn’t a complete walk in the park, I’ve managed to discover that Routine of this sort might be exactly for what I've been looking.