Today is one of those days that just won’t end. It has been a long and tiring – and altogether emotionally draining. I had a terrible day in the classroom. Wait…no…I didn’t…I was informed that I had a terrible day in the classroom. I am at a loss to understand this world that I have entered. Never have I seen what I am being exposed to in London. Do I feel any moderate levels of support? Not really. The only people who are supporting me are the people furthest removed from the situation – my mother and my friends (including a poor guy in Leeds who doesn’t deserve my daily breakdowns).
I keep asking myself – wouldn’t it just be easiest to pack it in and go home? God yes, it really would. That’s a given. But what do I go home to? A minimum wage job that won’t pay my bills? Two minimum wage jobs that won’t pay? How about three part-time minimum wage jobs that don’t pay? I don’t think I have a choice – I need to make this work, or die trying. My hometown has just lost another 300 jobs – what the hell am I going to do there?
Recently I told my friend – we don’t need to know the end result, we just need to deal with the present. I’m the one who isn’t dealing with the present though. I keep looking at this whole situation from the long term – keep thinking that I can’t do this for 3, 6, 12 months. I’m not seeing this from a daily perspective. I can fairly easily get home - its not impossible. Home is a mere plane ride away and therefore not insurmountable. I need to deal with this.
I have spent my afternoon reading blogs written by other Canadian teachers struggling in London. I’m not alone. These teachers have had objects thrown at them in the classroom (Oh what I have to look forward to!). I have read news articles on the record number of British teachers leaving the profession because it is too difficult to be a teacher in England. I am not alone then. I think the problem is, is that I am not used to outright failure. And today that is how I feel – like a failure. I am failing myself, the people close to me, my agency – everyone. It would just be so easy to give up right now.
I don’t understand it though. In a country that prides itself on its “stiff upper lip” and “high standards of behaviour” (buzz terms that you will hear repeatedly), I am at a loss to understand why things are the way they are. It makes virtually no sense to me. I have heard recruiters compare teaching in London to teaching in Toronto. I have friends who teach in Toronto – I have never heard the stories that I hear out of London. Is this an example of the deviousness of recruiters? I don’t know. I’m at such a loss. I trained for 8 years in Anthropology – I’ve tried to look at this from a cultural perspective. I realize that culture plays a huge part of this. I’m still too new to understand it though. Maybe I am just better off in anthropology or archaeology. I want to make this work though. How can I do that? That brings me to tomorrow…
Wednesday, 22 October 2008
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
London (WIDE) Awake
Transitioning from a small community in Northern Ontario, to large metropolitan megalopolis (is that the correct term?) is a challenge. I was told that the first six weeks would be the hardest. I'm only at the two week mark and it is insanely difficult. I don't know if the 6 week time period is for a couple, or for an individual - maybe it is 12 weeks for an individual. All I know is that my nerves are fried. The traffic is unbelievable and the noise is overwhelming - I don't know where people can think here - they certainly can't go to the Thames Walk or Hyde Park or what have you - there is traffic surrounding both places. Maybe they have just adapted...
Leanne doesn't know if she can adapt in London. I have found that if I stay awake for 2 nights, usually on the 3rd I can actually get some sleep. Unfortunately, this method poses somewhat problematic in terms of energy. I have also found that I can sleep between the hours of 8:30am and 10:30am...this is problematic for work. I don't entirely understand why I sleep better during daylight hours. In actuality the noise is far greater, but for some reason I can block it out. I have tried a sundry of methods to help myself sleep. These methods are generally related to tiring myself out - brisk powerwalks, not eating, crying (you know, emotional upheavel is usually exhausting). But no. I don't sleep. For the record, while I used to drink execessive quantities of coffee and tea, I've basically stopped.
While in Sheffield I made the mistake of drinking coffee at midnight. I have never had such a negative impact from caffiene - at 4am I was still wide awake. Luckily I did fall asleep by 6am, only to wake up at 8am still on a caffinated rush. Needless to say I spent the rest of the day fairly groggy, pursuing the next the next coffee-rush. Do you think that ment that I needed to go to bed early??? No. not at all. Still wide awake.
London isn't only impacting my sleep patterns. I may have already mentioned that London is creating a fair amount of stress in my life. My body's response?? Hives. I am excessively allergic to my London stress. Last week I was prescribed medication, which was successful for a short time. As soon as I returned to London from Sheffield, so did the hives. What's a girl to do?? And therein lies the true question - what do I do? By this point in Banbury I was headed home. This time I am struggling to stay - but without work, and nearly out of money, what exactly am I suppoesd to do? Will it get better?? I just don't know.
Leanne doesn't know if she can adapt in London. I have found that if I stay awake for 2 nights, usually on the 3rd I can actually get some sleep. Unfortunately, this method poses somewhat problematic in terms of energy. I have also found that I can sleep between the hours of 8:30am and 10:30am...this is problematic for work. I don't entirely understand why I sleep better during daylight hours. In actuality the noise is far greater, but for some reason I can block it out. I have tried a sundry of methods to help myself sleep. These methods are generally related to tiring myself out - brisk powerwalks, not eating, crying (you know, emotional upheavel is usually exhausting). But no. I don't sleep. For the record, while I used to drink execessive quantities of coffee and tea, I've basically stopped.
While in Sheffield I made the mistake of drinking coffee at midnight. I have never had such a negative impact from caffiene - at 4am I was still wide awake. Luckily I did fall asleep by 6am, only to wake up at 8am still on a caffinated rush. Needless to say I spent the rest of the day fairly groggy, pursuing the next the next coffee-rush. Do you think that ment that I needed to go to bed early??? No. not at all. Still wide awake.
London isn't only impacting my sleep patterns. I may have already mentioned that London is creating a fair amount of stress in my life. My body's response?? Hives. I am excessively allergic to my London stress. Last week I was prescribed medication, which was successful for a short time. As soon as I returned to London from Sheffield, so did the hives. What's a girl to do?? And therein lies the true question - what do I do? By this point in Banbury I was headed home. This time I am struggling to stay - but without work, and nearly out of money, what exactly am I suppoesd to do? Will it get better?? I just don't know.
Monday, 20 October 2008
London Lost
A weekend escape from London was exactly what I needed - to help me realize just how unhappy I am in this whole situation. As I sit in Starbucks on a Monday afternoon (not working), I am worried about employment, my recruitment agency, forging a new life here, etc. I came back to England to figure out if I made the right decision in leaving Banbury. I think I am realizing, that yes, in fact I did.
Upon my return to London, I found myself in tears as we turned into Victoria Station. This underlying feeling of not wanting to be here, had finally set in (yet again). Is it England? Is it London? Is it teaching? I don't know. Could I ever be happy here? I just don't know. Maybe in a different profession (let's face it, I am not excited about teaching). I want to make this work, but how much sadness is too much sadness?
I can recognize the potential within myself, to be able to change the world, and make some sort of positive contribution to society. Unfortunately, Thunder Bay is not really the prime location to undertake such an endeveaour. More unfortunate, is the fact that Leanne is fairly certain that she belongs in Thunder Bay. Most likely, I should have left ten years ago, when I was younger and more rebellious, and ready to seize the world by the horns. Now I'm ready to come home to familiarity every day - I don't want the challenges of learning to adapt to a new environment. Maybe some of us were just meant to be travellers.
Upon my return to London, I found myself in tears as we turned into Victoria Station. This underlying feeling of not wanting to be here, had finally set in (yet again). Is it England? Is it London? Is it teaching? I don't know. Could I ever be happy here? I just don't know. Maybe in a different profession (let's face it, I am not excited about teaching). I want to make this work, but how much sadness is too much sadness?
I can recognize the potential within myself, to be able to change the world, and make some sort of positive contribution to society. Unfortunately, Thunder Bay is not really the prime location to undertake such an endeveaour. More unfortunate, is the fact that Leanne is fairly certain that she belongs in Thunder Bay. Most likely, I should have left ten years ago, when I was younger and more rebellious, and ready to seize the world by the horns. Now I'm ready to come home to familiarity every day - I don't want the challenges of learning to adapt to a new environment. Maybe some of us were just meant to be travellers.
Sometimes I start to become moderately comfortable in this environment. I can't put my finger on what the exact problem is. I don't know if it is the teachers lifestyle. The commitment to the profession. The commitment to a new environment. I really hate commitment. I want a job that I can go to at 9am and leave at 5pm and just be done with it. Supply teaching can sort of give me that. I'm not particularly fond of getting up at 5:45am and going to bed by 10:30 though...that's the lifestyle. I'm also not fond of disruption..and this has brought immense disruption to my life.
Now I'm in a pickle (because I can't spell conundrum??). Do I rent the flat and force myself to stay until at least the end of January? Or do I return home? Is two weeks really a fair trial? It is sooo easy to go home - maybe too easy. Maybe I need to force myself to stay out of my comfort zone. I don't know. Sheffield reminded me so much of Thunder Bay - maybe that should have been my transition zone. Or am I afraid to let myself like it here? What if I do start to enjoy it? Perhaps that is the scarier unknown.
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Sheffield Lost & the Croydon Facelift
Eventually you will find the need to leave London - it took me less than two weeks to recognize this. I can respect that many individuals will find London to be the hotbed of culture, entertainment, culinary desires, fashion, etc, etc, etc. And it is. I, on the other hand, view London as the epicenter of congestion, noise and stress. After 10 nights of moderate sleep, weeks of stress, and an underlying desire to go home, I bought a ticket to Sheffield.
Located in Yorkshire, it was basically the furthest point that I could escape to...and after my first day in the classroom I definitely needed the escape (btw - everything you hear about teaching in UK classrooms is apparently accurate!!). I arrived late fairly into the evening, but was cheerfully greeted by an overly happy taxi driver.
"You are from Ireland, yes??" (said in a delightful Yorkshire accent).
"Huh?"
"Ireland, yes?"
"Canada?"
"Oh, I'm bad at accents!"
"Very bad indeed."
My cab driver then rambled on for the next 15 minutes, almost nonstop. At the end of the trip, he shaved a bit of the fare, so I didn't have to break a 5 pound note.
Hang on? A friendly, talkative person? Willingness to loose money?? Am I still in England? Must be an anomoly!
Tenatively I checked into my hotel. I know what I am paying in London for a rat trap - paying around the same price here, I am fairly skeptical.
Wait...the Sheffield Park Hotel has a beautiful foyer. No. Can't be right....just for show...
I go up to my room, via an elevator...surely they have put me in the room under the stairs...or maybe in a back shed...
I step into my room, and instant glee sets in - A huge bed...a real bed, not just a mattress on the floor. Four pillows (not stained) all for me! Lights...tv...bathroom (with a real shower/bathtub!)...coffee. I have arrived :)
Forty minutes later I venture to the Indian restaurant down the road. Here I am initially greeted by waiters a little bit more in line with London. Or are they? Within half an hour they are asking me to show them how to rub my belly and tap my head. Questions...tons and tons of questions - about America (apparently I was the expert; one or two about Canada). They want to know if the America from film and cinema is the real America?? Do they really do magic on the streets? What about McCain and Obama?? What about the cost of living? For forty minutes they bombarded me with questions (oh ya, and I did get dinner too). We part like old friends. I am so confused.
Hang on...two encounters with Sheffielders (did I mention the delightful Yorkshire accent?) and both times I had people who wanted to talk?? I'm more than confused. During my first night in Sheffield I actually talked more than I've talked in the last 2 weeks (minus shouting my way through the day in the classroom).
Morning comes. No. Early afternoon comes. I take a bus to downtown Sheffield. Its sort of like Thunder Bay, but on a larger scale (I'm kind of comfortable here). I wander the busy pedestrian market, and am not banged into once. Where is my human contact? I have become accustomed to jostling. No, on second thought, I might actually like this. Wow..I could move here today.
I take a closer look at the people, and lo and behold - there are fat people here! Where is London Anorexic???
The dresscode? Somewhat along the lines of Thunder Bay - worn jeans, sweaters (comfort over style????). I think I'll just leave my bags in London and let the hotel dispose of my things. Material possessions are irrelevant. I'm not going back.
I stop for lunch in Pizza Hut (glamorous and foreign, I realize) and the couple at the next table strike up random convesations with me - what is going on here??? I had heard rumours that Yorkshire was nicer, but you know how rumours are....
Yes, I know what you are thinking - its a bad decision to judge a city on first impressions. Regardless, my first impression of London was sheer hatred, and that has never changed. My first impression on New Orleans was a bit of disgust, and that is something that continually confronted me during my years there. Truthfully it is a tough call, but I recognize potential here - and maybe the rebirth of my sanity.
Yesterday was the first time that I have had someone actually initiate a random conversation with me in London. While waiting for the bus in Croydon, I met a man who engaged me in conversation straight up until we parted ways at Victoria Station (he even revamped his route to continue along my journey). It was educational and informative (e.g. the Croydon Facelift is a hair style that results in skin being pulled straight back), and he was quick to point out that Londoners don't talk. I had not noticed!
The only hard part about being in Sheffield is returning to London. I am dreading my return to the city :(
Thursday, 16 October 2008
London Recruiting, Doctors & Lizzy
Oh the breadth of information to discuss today :)
I am not working again today - this time it is by choice...
Several days ago I woke up with a couple of red bumps - assuming they were bug bites (though I have yet to see a biting insect in London - apparently the one benefit of smog), I chose to ignore them. Progressively over the next couple of days these bumps increased in number and worsened. Finally last night I decided that I would get them checked out.
Lo and behold, after waiting for over a week to get employment, my recruiting agency would call me with work this morning (we shall return to the topic of my recruiting agency in a few minutes). Not wanting to go into the classroom looking diseased, I declined in order go to the doctor.
In Thunder Bay, going to the doctor is a bit of an ordeal. Basically you need to be 1) bleeding severly (to the point that death is imminent) 2) be in some comatose state from which you cannot be roused 3) experiencing moderate to severe chest pains (nearly dead is preferable, and make sure you show up in an ambulance not in a private vehicle) or 4) 9cm dialated, just about ready to pop a kid (though having it in the car on the way to the hospital would be preferable; pop & discharge). So, needless to say, I generally would not go to the doctor for a case of hives. Case in point, in June I was horribly plagued by the little bastards, and opted to sit it out for 2 weeks.
The only reason I decided to go this time was again, because I could not stand the thought of looking diseased in the classroom...plus the itching is maddening. Unfortunately, after my experiences with healthcare in TBay, I was somewhat skeptical (it was actually my recruitment agency that told me to go to the doctor, I was just going to head to the pharmacy).
Sooo...I went to a walk-in clinic at Victoria Station (yes...right in in the station). There was this tiny elevator that magically transported me to a fully functioning doctors office (highly mysterious and somewhat scandalous). Paperwork...a bit of a wait...and boom! A doctor. Brief examination....prognosis: hives related to stress? Yes..that's right...hives related to stress. I am allergic to stress (does this qualify me for worker's comp or unemployment?) Ok...at the moment that is her guess; I am on 3 different medications to test her theory. Leanne can't remember to feed herself daily - how is she supposed to remember to take 6 tablets?
Filling the prescriptions? Just go to Boots Pharmacy (yes, also located in the train station - we really need these fully functioning stations in Canada) and it will be filled. Magical.
So anyway...that was my first experience with British healthcare - a generally positive experience, which I would be willing to repeat (though not entirely by choice). I am also thinking about living in Victoria Station.
Oh yeah - as I left the station, who did I run in to? None other than the Queen! (Liz not drag) Seriously - her motorcade was passing - and I did see her :) Hello England!
Now let's return to the topic of my recruitment agency. If memory serves me correctly, I am fairly sure I have blogged about recruiters. If I haven't, let me summarize - I don't trust recruiters. Recruiters typically are like salesmen & politicians (who are glorified salesmen) - promises, promises, promises but nothing to show in the end. This is why I have never looked into teaching in SE Asia, and why I was initially highly skeptical about accepting work in England. I have been with two English recruitment agencies, and both use the same buzz words "Fantastic", "Ok Leanne, we'll get back to you soon." "Take Care"...yes I know those are standardized wordings - but its the way in which they are said - I actually can't tell the difference between the people I had recruiting me in Banbury and the agency I have in London. At the end of the day these agencies are in a business - and no matter how much they claim to be concerned about your wellbeing, their responses are standardized (scripted) and their endgame is financial. Fantastic. (I actually hate that word now)
So...bkgrnd information: last December I was contacted by the agency I am presently with. I signed with them, but became increasingly disgruntled by a lack of communication, and a seemingly constant inability to keep track of my information. So I changed agencies. Then came Banbury. On my way out of London in April, the original agency asked me to stop in and "talk". I agreed.
Then came London.
I have spent 6 months evaluating what transpired in Banbury. There are so many reasons I couldn't cope. A large part of it boils down to the fact that I had far too much time on my own to think. Then develop anxiety, self doubt, etc. I could feel my heart double beating, everything swirling...Then I just cracked. (No hives though).
This time was supposed to be different. My handler (as I will refer to her), was aware of my situation, and was going to look out for my best interests. I had assumed that work would start as soon as I got here - it didn't. There was additional paperwork which delayed the process. Things were not in order. I haven't seen my "handler", and instead have been dealing with two other recruiters who are not aware of the situation. I have had to tell the same story over again (I do see them write information down, yet it never seems to make it into my file?? Or maybe I have like 30 files, each with its own information that cannot be opened more than once). The result??? I have been left to myself for 10 days to think. And develop anxiety. And develop hives. And remember that I do not want to go into the classroom. And decide that I want to go home. I think we calls this "coming full circle". Leanne is not a happy camper.
I have developed so much disdain over the idea of teaching, that I actually went to a doctor today - something I haven't done since 2000 because I have an unnatural fear of doctors...
I've had too much time again, and am increasingly skeptical of recruiters. As I sit here trying not to book a flight home, I am also weighing my options. What do I do if I don't teach? Can I afford to stay in England, if I find another job? Is there another job in England (damn the Credit Crisis). What do I do? Where do I go? Can this just be over? Luckily one of the meds that I was prescribed is also an antidepressant (I'm fairly certain anyway) so at least I can be stoned for a couple of days. But seriously...how much education do I have to go through until I get it right?
I am not working again today - this time it is by choice...
Several days ago I woke up with a couple of red bumps - assuming they were bug bites (though I have yet to see a biting insect in London - apparently the one benefit of smog), I chose to ignore them. Progressively over the next couple of days these bumps increased in number and worsened. Finally last night I decided that I would get them checked out.
Lo and behold, after waiting for over a week to get employment, my recruiting agency would call me with work this morning (we shall return to the topic of my recruiting agency in a few minutes). Not wanting to go into the classroom looking diseased, I declined in order go to the doctor.
In Thunder Bay, going to the doctor is a bit of an ordeal. Basically you need to be 1) bleeding severly (to the point that death is imminent) 2) be in some comatose state from which you cannot be roused 3) experiencing moderate to severe chest pains (nearly dead is preferable, and make sure you show up in an ambulance not in a private vehicle) or 4) 9cm dialated, just about ready to pop a kid (though having it in the car on the way to the hospital would be preferable; pop & discharge). So, needless to say, I generally would not go to the doctor for a case of hives. Case in point, in June I was horribly plagued by the little bastards, and opted to sit it out for 2 weeks.
The only reason I decided to go this time was again, because I could not stand the thought of looking diseased in the classroom...plus the itching is maddening. Unfortunately, after my experiences with healthcare in TBay, I was somewhat skeptical (it was actually my recruitment agency that told me to go to the doctor, I was just going to head to the pharmacy).
Sooo...I went to a walk-in clinic at Victoria Station (yes...right in in the station). There was this tiny elevator that magically transported me to a fully functioning doctors office (highly mysterious and somewhat scandalous). Paperwork...a bit of a wait...and boom! A doctor. Brief examination....prognosis: hives related to stress? Yes..that's right...hives related to stress. I am allergic to stress (does this qualify me for worker's comp or unemployment?) Ok...at the moment that is her guess; I am on 3 different medications to test her theory. Leanne can't remember to feed herself daily - how is she supposed to remember to take 6 tablets?
Filling the prescriptions? Just go to Boots Pharmacy (yes, also located in the train station - we really need these fully functioning stations in Canada) and it will be filled. Magical.
So anyway...that was my first experience with British healthcare - a generally positive experience, which I would be willing to repeat (though not entirely by choice). I am also thinking about living in Victoria Station.
Oh yeah - as I left the station, who did I run in to? None other than the Queen! (Liz not drag) Seriously - her motorcade was passing - and I did see her :) Hello England!
Now let's return to the topic of my recruitment agency. If memory serves me correctly, I am fairly sure I have blogged about recruiters. If I haven't, let me summarize - I don't trust recruiters. Recruiters typically are like salesmen & politicians (who are glorified salesmen) - promises, promises, promises but nothing to show in the end. This is why I have never looked into teaching in SE Asia, and why I was initially highly skeptical about accepting work in England. I have been with two English recruitment agencies, and both use the same buzz words "Fantastic", "Ok Leanne, we'll get back to you soon." "Take Care"...yes I know those are standardized wordings - but its the way in which they are said - I actually can't tell the difference between the people I had recruiting me in Banbury and the agency I have in London. At the end of the day these agencies are in a business - and no matter how much they claim to be concerned about your wellbeing, their responses are standardized (scripted) and their endgame is financial. Fantastic. (I actually hate that word now)
So...bkgrnd information: last December I was contacted by the agency I am presently with. I signed with them, but became increasingly disgruntled by a lack of communication, and a seemingly constant inability to keep track of my information. So I changed agencies. Then came Banbury. On my way out of London in April, the original agency asked me to stop in and "talk". I agreed.
Then came London.
I have spent 6 months evaluating what transpired in Banbury. There are so many reasons I couldn't cope. A large part of it boils down to the fact that I had far too much time on my own to think. Then develop anxiety, self doubt, etc. I could feel my heart double beating, everything swirling...Then I just cracked. (No hives though).
This time was supposed to be different. My handler (as I will refer to her), was aware of my situation, and was going to look out for my best interests. I had assumed that work would start as soon as I got here - it didn't. There was additional paperwork which delayed the process. Things were not in order. I haven't seen my "handler", and instead have been dealing with two other recruiters who are not aware of the situation. I have had to tell the same story over again (I do see them write information down, yet it never seems to make it into my file?? Or maybe I have like 30 files, each with its own information that cannot be opened more than once). The result??? I have been left to myself for 10 days to think. And develop anxiety. And develop hives. And remember that I do not want to go into the classroom. And decide that I want to go home. I think we calls this "coming full circle". Leanne is not a happy camper.
I have developed so much disdain over the idea of teaching, that I actually went to a doctor today - something I haven't done since 2000 because I have an unnatural fear of doctors...
I've had too much time again, and am increasingly skeptical of recruiters. As I sit here trying not to book a flight home, I am also weighing my options. What do I do if I don't teach? Can I afford to stay in England, if I find another job? Is there another job in England (damn the Credit Crisis). What do I do? Where do I go? Can this just be over? Luckily one of the meds that I was prescribed is also an antidepressant (I'm fairly certain anyway) so at least I can be stoned for a couple of days. But seriously...how much education do I have to go through until I get it right?
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