Well, where to begin?
One rainy weekend afternoon, while browsing the Guardian, I came across an advertisement to teach overseas. Overseas: the sunny, warm, daylight type of overseas. Glancing over my shoulder to the cold, wet, dusk street, the idea of sitting on a balcony in Jakarta or Malaysia overwhelmed me. Why would I want to work (with intervals of chatting) from 7am to 7pm, only seeing the daylight at the weekends, when I could work 7am to 7pm and still have sun, warm and daylight to enjoy Monday to Friday and all day weekend.
Ideally, like all good wives/mothers, I needed to consult the family before considering applying for such a life changing job..... well, maybe a normal, considerate, rational wife/mother might behave that way. Me, I spent the afternoon daydreaming and applying for my dream posting.
Once I had pressed the send button I considered how to break the news carefully.....
Me: Who fancies a trip overseas?
The family: In the summer holidays?
Me: It would start about then!
Son: Will it be a long drive in the car again? Can we go in the duty free shop on the ferry?
Me: The drive would be much shorter. About an hour or so... then we get a plane.
Daughter: But you promised Paris, Disney and two weeks in a villa with a pool.
Husband: Don't book anything with a flight more than two hours.
Me: (Spinelessly) maybe we can discuss this again soon! (Thinking) how can I make 9000 miles and a twelve hour flight sound like no ‘more than two hours’?...
I eventually plucked up the courage, with some liquid help, to tell the hubbie. He laughed, and suggested that it was something to consider, in the future. It was a long shot and I probably shouldn't get excited or do anything daft, and definitely not discuss it, unless I hear back from them.
The idea blossomed and I soon began researching areas, countries and schools that met the needs of the whole family. Near the equator for the long days, speak English, good expatriate community, tolerant of other cultures and religions, reputation for excellence from teaching staff, accommodation provided in secure compound.... watched too many CSI programmes!
Expecting a rejection, as it had been a bad few weeks - I had no car, a sore back and neck, a head cold and little voice - I reluctantly opened the email, just wanting to get it over with.
Seconds later, my colleague came flying into my room. Her reaction startled me. That's what stopped me screaming. I had been screaming, piercing I think she called it, without realising it.
This was it: our chance to see the world together as a family. Our chance to travel around a new continent. Our chance for the son to realise there is more to life than his exbox and Mackie-d’s. Our chance for the daughter to see another culture, another way of life, another world. A world where some children don't have instantaneous technology, hair straightener and the opportunity to see live bands every few months. Our chance for the hubbie to see birds worth seeing when he looks out of the kitchen window, rather than just flying rats, hells angels and - if he is really lucky- the odd goldfinch! Furthermore, the chance for him to pop out on his bike, when he likes, because he isn't working from dawn till coming home in the dark time, or that the weekend’s weather is too blustery. My chance, my time to do this for my family.
It's time for me to work my socks off, resulting in everybody in my family having some benefit. It's time for my children to get a different type of education, not only one that we couldn't ordinarily afford, but also an education in a different type of life. It's time to learn some new practise from a new bunch of colleagues - so I can become an even better teacher... maybe even coming home professionalism personified! It's time...
Oh my goodness, there's so much to be done. Will there really be enough time?
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