Monday, 21 April 2008

Not Meant to Be

Periodically you find yourself wondering how you ended up where you are. I have made a lot of bad career - I hate hometown - I'm not fond of present town - I resent it. In moving to England, I thought I could perform that escapist act -but I was wrong. As it turns out I moved 6000 miles to find out that I should have just stayed where I was. I also moved 6000 miles to remember that I dislike my profession (overwhelmingly). I am not a bad teacher - I can teach - I just dislike the life that goes along with teaching. I had forgotten that realization- or maybe I chose to ignore it. There are so many terrible teachers, who openly despise their profession, who think that by staying in the classroom they are doing some sort of favour for the students. But they are wrong. After my experience working in a school, I realize that it is very easy to tell the teachers who enjoy teaching, versus those who do not. I do not want to be one of those teachers - I would not being doing the profession any justice. So...with this reality, I have left my job here in Banbury, with the full intentions of returning home. I can't stand up in front of a room full of impressional young people, and lie to myself and to them. I can teach, but I am not a teacher. I can accept that now.
It hasn't just been the realization that I dislike my career. The financial aspects of living in England are far more than I can ever hope to cope with. Even leaving now, it is still cheaper for me to get out, than to stay and develop more debt. I have realized that I dislike the heart palpitations I feel every time I think about paying for something....I don't run the heat because I am afraid of my utility bills. I try not to run the water, because again, the bills are just too horrible to think about. I am afraid to do anything in my flat, for fear of doing anything that would damage the illogically placed cream carpeting that runs throughout the apartment. I am still perplexed as to why a landlord would place cream carpeting in a bathroom. Needless to say, the financial aspects of England are just too much for me to cope with individually.
There is only so much time I can spend in the sanctuary of my local pub and coffee shop - I need to face the realization that I am miserable here. Granted, it will be worse when I go home - I have to deal with the financial aspects of this decision. But it is slightly more copable knowing that, at home, I will at least understand what I am doing. I won't have to worry about price conversions of the British pound versus the Canadian dollar. Even getting up in the morning for a job I hate, will seem slightly more doable.
So what now? I don't know. I know that I need to go home and face the reality that I was attempting to escape from. Maybe that's the point - maybe I wasn't emotionally detached from this decision - it was my life at home that I was trying to be emotionally detached from. Now, I need to figure out what I want to do for a career. After 9 years in university, I don't want to think or commit...I just want to work and come home at the end of the day and be done with it. So there's a start. I know I want simplicity.

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