Bye bye to the next nine months of my life

 And no, it’s not what you think!

[Editor’s note: this is yet another interlude between my summer 2011 travel instalments. For those waiting for part IV - the Balkans - patience please! It’s coming…one of these days.]

In late July 2010, I was at a cross-roads. Just two months earlier, I had completed my teaching certification in high school history and social studies and the plan had been to teach in an international school. Growing up, my ‘plan’ had more or less been to teach history. I was the geeky little student who loved history, geography and civics in school and thought it would be an absolute blast to teach it. So yeah, that was the plan.

Readers of the Layman’s Guide will be familiar with my tales from Keene State College in New Hampshire, where I toiled from September – December 2009, and then my torrid time at Manchester Memorial High School between January – May 2010. There are a plethora of posts, some funny, some sad from that time (interspersed with a few flashbacks to my adventures in Lviv, Nigeria, Latvia and other places). 

 Keene and its annual pumpkin fest: a very temporary home

The job search back then was a perilous one: there I was, looking for plum international school jobs with no history teaching experience to speak of. Most people who end up in some of the more salubrious destinations have put in their years in American or British secondary schools, building up a wealth of experience before heading abroad. Others start out in Burkina Faso or Cambodia. I, of course, wanted to be in Europe, preferably the East, where the jobs were hard to come by. And for a history teacher? It was even worse. Maths, sciences…now those are in demand. But history teachers are a dime a dozen these days. The job situation in New Hampshire – and I barely considered sticking around, it was time to flee America after nine months there – was pretty dire as well. One well-placed source told me that there was a 30-1 ratio of candidates to openings. Better alternatives included inner-city schools in Hartford, Connecticut or at rural locations in the deep South. We’re talking places where creationism and abstinence-only education are still being taught. Um, no thanks.

Despite the odds, and after a handful of rejections, I had two promising leads: Abu Dhabi and Tbilisi. Abu Dhabi had the cash, but the position itself was going to be strenuous: a combination of 9^th grade literature, 11^th grade US history, 10^th grade 20^th century world history and 9^th grade geography. That’s one hell of a workload for a new teacher. The usual thing is to get all of the same class, or maybe two different ones. That’s one massive downside to international school teaching: workloads like that due to smaller student bodies.

There were two other negatives to the job: the sexes were segregated (not a big deal, but certainly not ideal) and the extreme politics I might face.

Now, the UAE is considered far more secular and liberal than other parts of the Middle East. But still, I was put off by one question that came up in the interview: how would I feel about teaching geography and history with blacked-out maps and textbooks of Israel? And I would be teaching 20^th century world history! Though it was an American woman interviewing me, I was very upfront in my answer (I would be uncomfortable), and she muttered something like ‘well, you get used to it, and it’s not so bad, it’s just something you have to deal with.’

Nevertheless, I wasn’t so keen.

The other option was Tbilisi. Regulars readers and fans alike will know my love of the East, and the Caucasus. On my visit to Georgia in June 2008, I adored the country, its people, landscapes, food, history…everything about it was wonderful. I was very eager to go back. In fact, how life could have been so very different: January 2009 was when I embarked for Kyrgyzstan, and the start of my blogging days. But I wavered between Bishkek and Tbilisi (this was to teach English, of course). I agonized over the decision, listened to friends (most of whom were pushing me in the direction of Tbilisi), slept on it. Compounding the difficulty of the decision was the fact that David, my former director of studies in Lviv, and a great boss, was now the director in Tbilisi and he wanted me to come (in more ways than one, but that’s a story for another time).

Alas, I chose Bishkek. I was just too eager to get to Central Asia. No regrets whatsoever. I thought Tbilisi’s time would come. And it did.

And then it didn’t.

I was offered a job. The pay was meager, but it sounded promising: international school following the International Baccalaureate curriculum (which would have looked great on my CV since most international school follow that route and getting the initial experience is very tough) with other, non-teaching managerial responsibilities. Though I hadn’t formally accepted the job, we were working out the fine print and I had started telling people I was going to Tbilisi.

While all of this was going on, I was on the road: in mid-May, I set off on my Romania-Moldova-Ukraine-Poland adventures. Not an ideal time to be negotiating the details for my first job, when on some days I couldn’t find internet cafés and I was too busy doing other things, like chasing skirt. You can see how dedicated I was in my job search.

Tbilisi: almost a new home

Long-story short: the job vanished, and I found myself teaching summer school in rural England – well, Wokingham, near Reading, but in a school without phone or internet access. I was, proverbially, in the middle of nowhere, with little free time to speak of and hardly the means to do any job searching. It got to late July and I had no plans for after the summer. I never really panicked, but it was time for plan B. Whatever that was.

The experts’ take

This is what the Economist had to say about my potential career choices then (and now). These leaders were carefully crafted by their leading oil correspondent, the G-Man. The first two selections are being re-visited from the Layman’s Guide. The third is their latest, published just days ago. Rumour has it that it was hastily thrown together during a five minute lull in the working day, when other, more pressing projects were meant to be worked on. The quality hasn’t suffered, however: the Economist continues to publish fine, high-quality prose devoid of jargon and waffling. Just one of many reasons I love it (and its writers) so much.

This first one hit the press when I was mulling over the different options: Minsk, Baku, Sarajevo, Cairo, Damascus, Lyon, Kyiv

Leader, 29 July 2010

Mr P[ed]zo is at a cross-roads. His administration has been criticized in the past, not least by Mr Pedzo himself, for placing short-term adventurism ahead of enduring fiscal responsibility. If his government opts for the latter course in this case, then a joint venture [in the Middle East] is the most sound prospect. There are, however, more salubrious options, most notably a strategy based in the Mediterranean. Analysts point to its delicious cuisine, pleasing climate and dark-eyed hotties. But many Pedzologists hold that the regime has had its toes scalded in those waters before (see article: "Pedzo Stunned by Basque Illiteracy and Haircuts"). This magazine for one struggles to believe that Pedzo's camp will find the vita any more dolce in Palermo than it did in San Sebastian. And while France hosts a greater cultural bounty than Spain or Italy, it hardly offers scope for mystery and intrigue. This publication's commitment to free market principles is well known, as is its proclivity to visiting Mr Pedzo at each of his foreign assignations. That's why in this case it's recommending a policy of revisiting old haunts. Sometimes it really is better to stick with the devil you know -- and, as in Mikhail Bulgakov's satire "The Master and Margarita," the right devil for Mr Pedzo resides in St. Petersburg (or one of its neighbours). The former Soviet Union affords the greatest opportunities for linguistic enrichment, literary inspiration, and - in the words of one noted Pedzo confrere - "making a drunken clown of himself." While Pedzo's decision where to go next isn't guaranteed to be a dead-cert success, one thing is for sure: the destination will as much choose Pedzo as he chooses the destination.

And then it was decided: Kyiv

Kyiv: home now

 

Leader, 25 Aug 2010

Stepping to Odessa: an army-in-exile saddles up for war

In 1940, Charles de Gaulle's "Free French" took up temporary residence in London before entering the fray against their Nazi-held homeland. Seventy years on, the P[ed]zo caravanserai is ready to pack up its own sojourn here and attack a different foreign city. Mr Pedzo's departure may be as speedy as the decision-making process was protracted, with sources close to the commandante hinting he may pitch up at Kyiv's great gates as early as next week. But it's the destination, rather than the timing, of the attack that was always the favoured theme of Pedzologists. Some had pointed to Egypt, with the bountiful supplies of raw materials - namely shisha coals - that heretofore have bled the coffers of Pedzo's partisans. It's a salutary lesson for The Economist that he has instead followed its recommendations, and plumped for a Baltic (sic) invasion. Admittedly, this magazine's track record on proposing military action isn't entirely unblemished (anyone remember Iraq?), and in this case it may again prove that the road to Ukraine isn't wholly devoid of stumbling blocks. It was the unforgiving climate of the Russian steppe that checked the armies of both Napoleon and Adolf Hitler. While Mr Pedzo has proven his ability to withstand such sub-zero temperatures, it's anyone's guess what havoc it will wreak on his Scottish allies.

So it was back to English teaching…temporarily.

And now, this:

Leader, 21 Feb 2012

Chasing Delta

An emerging markets fund changes tack

Faced with players in the private equity realm named Blackstone, Blackrock, and Terra Firma, the casual observer of investment managers may believe that a sure-fire method for gold-plated returns is to call yourself after a geographical feature. And such a scholar would only find that hunch confirmed by the best performer in Eastern Europe, the Kiev-based Puzzo Capital LLC, whose name derives from the Sicilian for ``drinking well.'' And while drinking well is exactly what its eponymous star trader, Daniel P, has become renowned for, this hasn't stopped him from producing stellar returns. Indeed, so well (pun intended) has Mr Puzzo been performing that PuzzCo's become an acquisition target for the local talent, though he's rebuffed their (ahem) more formal merger overtures (the flaccid state-run fund Pavel Investments was notably dropped by one Ukrainian seeking a union with PuzzCo). Up until now, PuzzCo's winning streak has been based on history, but all that's set to change as Daniel P bets that this land rich in hydrocarbon booty is short a more precious resource: the English language. Whether this new strategy pays off as well as his previous plays, only time will tell.

What the hell are they on about?

April 2005, Prague: the first step in my Tefl ‘career’: the Celta.

February 2012, Kyiv: the next: the Delta.

For the uninitiated, I will say no more than this: it’s the diploma in English language teaching, and it involves a fair bit of hard work over the next 9+ months. I never thought I would do this. Remember, kids, and I’ve discussed this on these pages before: I always thought Tefl was meant to be a 2-year plan before going onto other things. And now look at us…nearly 7 years later!

No, not that Delta!

So, can we put final nail in and bury that history-teaching coffin now?

Well, never say never. But it looks increasingly unlikely.

I’ve grappled with sharing some of deeper, innermost thoughts regarding my attitude to teaching history versus English. I’ve shared a lot with my sister, the G-Man and a couple of others. I have EXTENSIVE notes about this in my journals, and from time to time I’ve pondered putting it all down here, for mass consumption.

But I don’t think I will. In yet another one of my whopping understatements, a lot of thought has gone into this.

Come on, tell us, we insist: why not history teaching?

Well, if you insist…

Let me try and keep this succinct, for once. And I will share here what I often share with my students.

A love of something and teaching it are two different things. Now that is as profound and original a statement as you are ever likely to hear from me.

Whilst teaching history and civics in New Hampshire, I was faced with a problem that probably plagues all teachers: how to interest 25-30 kids in something that they just don’t care about. In world history, for example, there I was in front of 30 kids (almost all of whom were nice, decent fairly motivated kids I should point out), about 4 or 5 of whom were really interested in history. The rest? It was part of the required curriculum, they had no choice, they were just interested in as pain-free a journey as possible.

Now don’t get me wrong: I think history is important, and I believe in the value of teaching it, but it can be a tough sell to a group of students who aren’t that interested. What it means is this: you have to make the history come to life, make it accessible to them, get them interested.

In my particular experience, we’re talking about boiling down all of history (and even a brief look at pre-history) into about 4 months. There’s no time to get into any great depth: you’re jumping from China to India to Greece to Rome in about 2 weeks. I kid you not, but my introduction to Islam lesson was 45 minutes…and that was it. How to (a) get into any sufficient depth, (b) make it engaging and accessible without resorting to cheap, gimmicky stereotypes, and (c) ensure that they have the proper understanding of such significant events?

I’m going to perhaps sell myself short here and say that it takes a certain kind of teaching talent to do that. And I haven’t got it. It’s not about ‘teaching’, it’s about ‘entertaining’ and ‘packaging’ it into something digestible and not too mentally challenging. And I must say that I didn’t see any of the other teachers successfully doing this in my opinion.

Question to ponder: should history be mandatory when so few seem to care about it? (for more on this, read anything by Simon Schama, Antony Beever, Tristram Hunt, Andrew Roberts or Niall Ferguson on the state of history teaching in schools)

Another issue, which I could explore and rant about at great length, is how sanitized the teaching of history has become. I got a massive bollocking from my mentoring teacher when I mentioned the possible role that Christianity’s rise had in the decline of the Roman Empire. How on earth can you discuss such an event without mentioning what most sane historians say was a primary contributing factor? (and to be fair, the textbook we were using did mention it – so why the hell couldn’t I during a lecture?) Bear in mind that this is New Hampshire as well – I can’t even imagine the state of things in Texas and Mississippi.

In short, teaching English has an obvious practical value: I don’t need to ‘sell’ it, even to the most unruly teens - that doesn’t mean teaching them is easy, but it is one factor in my decision to stick with Tefl for now: it means only 4 hours of teaching the shits every week (plus another 4 with the kiddies, but that isn’t so bad). Eight hours a week of young learners versus doing it full-time: a massive bonus.

And in this business, I can be myself. I can act like a clown. I can tell whatever stories I like without, for the most part, fear of any repercussions. I am in my comfort zone, I can be me. Anything that takes away from my comfort zone isn’t me. And not all students are 100% motivated, but the vast majority are. For those who aren’t, I think I do a decent job of getting them motivated.  

And teaching abroad, students are genuinely curious about who I am and where I’ve been. Not that I do this (or travel to so many places as a means of building this up) for that reason, to be this object of curiosity, but it does add to a positive classroom dynamic. Generally, students everywhere are curious, though the younger they get – obviously – the less they seem to care. Conscientious teenagers certainly do care. This is why I like teaching abroad – you get this curiosity.

Lastly, and forgive the whopping generalization here (my sample size isn’t huge) – I’m not sure if many or any of my colleagues read this, but I have to say this about Tefl teachers: they’re generally an interesting, intellectually-curious, open-minded, knowledgeable and quirky-in-a-good-way bunch. Yes, you get some oddballs, but it’s going to take an oddball-state of mind to end up teaching English in Ukraine. Or Kyrgyzstan. Or wherever. My experience of teaching outside of this world…um, let’s just say it was very different. Some of the stories are pretty shocking, but none are worth sharing here.

Anyway, this is – believe me – a mere snippet of some of the thoughts carousing around and through my head over the past months.

What does this mean for you, the reader?

Never mind you, but what about me? It means a drastic reduction in my precious free time: less time for pleasure reading, less time for drunken weekend shenanigans, perhaps less time devoted to physical fitness (I hope not, I’ll make the time), less time for this blog (uh oh) and, most worrying of all, perhaps less time for my stock market transgressions. If the Greeks and Europeans don’t get their act together, I could be in for a rocky ride.

(There is one area I definitely will not sacrifice, and that is the romance department…but I shall say no more on that for now.)

They say that I need to devote an extra 10-15 hours a week to this Delta. We’ll see. They said the Celta would be tough. It was, only because I made it tough on myself.

I’ll try not to make the next nine months too tough on myself. The fun and games officially start in a matter of hours.

 

In the heart of the Niger Delta: my home for the better part of 2005