Two Days to Ferry

It is Friday and we are on the ferry on Monday. I’m trying not to think about all that needs to get done between now and then, reminding myself that whatever shape things are in when we leave is just how it is going to be. Half of the things I have done over the past two weeks are things I may not have done for another year or more, and yet somehow they have to be done before someone else comes to live in my house. I’m sure they will appreciate the weather stripping around the front door, the rotation of compost, and the well-organized basement.

Yesterday I carefully crammed my stack of Masters related paperwork into a drawer and I thought about how this is what the upcoming year is all about. Teaching abroad is like going back to school, it is a way of making sure that I’m not getting too comfortable, that I’m not slipping into routines, that I am challenged and always applying new learning to my life and work. I remember the discomfort I experienced going back to school, my flailing in the deep end, but I know how to swim.   

My mind is occupied more frequently with imaginings of first days, first classes, first staff meetings. I have to remind myself that just because I can’t understand what they are saying doesn’t mean I should imagine they are saying bad things about me. Denmark: a different language, a different culture, and a staff larger than our school, a whole ocean of discomfort to flail about in.