What I wanted to be when I grew up

My bachelor's degree is in Creative Writing. I reluctantly graduated in December (I would have been happy to stay in school longer) and applied for graduate school. I submitted applications and writing samples to 9 different MFA programs around the country. And not a single one accepted me. That was my first experience with rejection of that magnitude.

Ex-husband (who was my boyfriend at the time) and I moved to Seattle, Washington then.

I got a job and started working, which seemed a productive way to lick my wounds. A year later, I applied to the University of Washington MFA program again and I will readily admit that my writing sample was half-assed. I didn't have anything good prepared for fiction, so I applied for poetry, which is not my preferred area. Again, I was not accepted.

I kept working.

During this time when I was working and trying not to dwell on the fact that I didn't get accepted anywhere at all, I thought pragmatically of what I was attempting to do: I was applying to one of the most competitive programs in the United States, where a minuscule percentage of applicants get accepted. If programs accept 5 to 10% of all MFA applicants, that means I have to be the 90th or 95th percentile. Realistically - I wasn't. My writing was so immature and I had nothing very interesting to say. Also, I wasn't really a writer. I didn't spend my free time writing stories or poems. I enjoyed writing for class assignments and I kept a journal off and on, but I didn't really write much else. I began to think about what I actually wanted to do. What did I see myself doing? Why was I going for an MFA degree when I didn't really want one?

I decided that what I would like to do is teach writing. I had enjoyed my writing classes so much, that I wanted to be the teacher at the head of the class. So... if I wanted to teach writing, was there any other way of getting closer to that goal that didn't involve applying to graduate programs for which I was painfully unqualified?

When I was an undergrad, I had worked for a while teaching English as Second Language at a language institute in Juarez, northern Mexico, where I lived at the time. I had no training. I was hired because I spoke English and I was an attractive young woman. All of the teachers at this particular language institute where attractive young women. Since I didn't know what I was doing, I had a blast making stuff up as I went. I was teaching Mexican factory workers, mostly. I had a book to follow. I supplemented my lessons with my own crazy ideas.

So, during my introspection period, I thought back to this experience, teaching ESL and I though, "Hmm! I could do that!" And I also thought that ESL teachers can work in other countries, since people want to learn English in other countries. Traveling is one of my life-long passions. Could I really try to combine teaching English with traveling?? That would be a dream!

Two minutes of online research confirmed that the University of Washington had a TESOL program. I applied for the program and didn't half-ass it. I worked on my statement of purpose. I asked for letters of recommendation. I really thought about the best way to present myself for consideration for this program.

It worked.

Not only did I get accepted to the program, I was accepted as a Teaching Assistant too, which meant that I would be teaching my own classes while I was studying to be a teacher. That thought both excited and terrified me in equal measure.

I enjoyed graduate school immensely. I worked hard. I studied and I taught. I made good friends. I did research. I felt like I belonged to a community of professionals.

Fast forward: Here I am more than a decade after I graduated from the University of Washington. I am teaching English - mostly writing classes - in Foreign Country. I was able to combine my desire to teach with my love of travel. I have had a unique experience that many talk about but are too afraid to do.

When people back home ask me what I do and I tell them I teach overseas, I get told all the time, "Wow! You're so brave!" I don't feel brave for doing what I love to do. What's brave about that? Other people say, "You're so lucky! I wish I could do that!" There was definitely luck involved in the first job I got overseas, but the job itself required work and dedication, like any other endeavor worth undertaking. Also, why wish? Why not do? Anybody can do what I did. There are actually a lot more jobs available to ESL teachers overseas than there are in the US.

I know that people love the idea of working overseas a lot more than the reality of working overseas. And I don't blame them. Uprooting and starting again somewhere foreign is hard. There is a period of transition and discomfort, to say nothing of homesickness. And if you tend towards the dramatic, like me, there could also be periods of wailing and gnashing of teeth and raising an angry fist to the sky and asking "Why? Why?!?" until you realize that you are exactly where you most wanted to be.

What I find ironic about this whole path I have carved is that I now find myself writing. Regularly. I don't think my writing is immature anymore. I have interesting things to say. I am living a life worth writing about and that's a great feeling.

#Adulting #Workingtowardsthewronggoal #Workingoverseas