A year later; or, Some chance, some luck, some hope

What a difference a year in a life can make!

Last year, I was going into my 10th year in a district in Texas. It was my third year at a high school that I loved---I had been part of the founding faculty, and one of the first five or so people hired. I had followed a group of middle schoolers from a somewhat challenging school (Title I, large ESL population, large number of foster kids, and the MOST dedicated, amazing teachers of anywhere I have ever taught) and I loved seeing those kids grow from geeky middle schoolers to somewhat-mature young adults. It was rewarding.

It was exhausting.

For ten years I had been commuting from Georgetown, where we loved the school district and neighborhood for our kids, to either N Austin or Round Rock. If you have never driven in Texas, please know, Texas has the worst drivers in the country. I've lived in five states all over the country, and Texas drivers are a special kind of bad driver.

(And before you Texans get all defensive and blame incoming Californians---please stop. Everyone blames Californians for bad driving, no matter the state. I've driven in California. They don't hold a candle to Texas drivers).

Because my husband had an even longer commute to South Austin, with even more frustrating and crazy traffic, it wasn't unusual for us to have spent 10-12 hours at work and commuting. When we got home, we then commenced the 2-4 hours of work required when you have kids at home (homework, dinner, cleanup, bathtime, bedtime, housework). It was killing us.

I am so glad we are no longer living that life. I miss friends and I miss family, but I do not miss that lifestyle at all.

Here's the thing I haven't told many people---my second day back to work in August 2012, I got a phone call from Human Resources in the district where I lived and my kids went to school. I was excited and terrified. They wanted me to come interview for a job that was only a few miles from my house. My youngest son could come to work with me. I would cut the work day by several hours and have more time and energy for my family. But I also felt an obligation to my district and the students I loved, and I felt a lot of guilt for even considering the job.

Instead of calling back immediately, I sat on it for a few days, and when I finally made the decision to call back, the position was filled. I felt that odd combination of relief and disappointment that comes with missed opportunities.

Scenes from our last year in Texas

Twenty years ago, when I was a newlywed to an Army soldier, I researched teaching overseas and dreamed of living in Europe or Asia.

We never got stationed anywhere except stateside, although I can't complain---if you've visited or lived in Augusta, Georgia, Colorado Springs, Colorado, or Olympia, Washington, you know these are all beautiful and wonderful places to be stationed.

One of my Washington colleagues and I talked often about applying for overseas teaching jobs, but with a small child, I didn't think the time was right.

We moved to Texas, had another child, and got caught up in our 50-60 hour work weeks without time to breathe.

So another phone call, only a couple of weeks after that first call, really did change my life.  I was a little blindsided when an email came across my desk asking if I would be interested in interviewing for a job in Cuba. CUBA? I called my husband to discuss it, and before I could respond, I got a phone call requesting a job interview. It was that fast, and I was excited and nervous all over again.

It was Sept 4, 2012---a year ago today---and with that call, I realized that maybe one opportunity had fallen through because there was something even bigger around the corner.

If I had pursued the first job, I probably would have turned down the interview.

And that's how opportunity comes---sometimes when you are least expecting it, you get a chance to do something you have only dreamed about doing.

An request for an interview led to a phone interview a week later, which in turn led to a job offer a couple of weeks after that. The offer was contingent upon me successfully completing "the packet" within two weeks---a one inch thick stack of paperwork which contained Herculean tasks, such as:

• undergoing a background check
• mailing in fingerprint cards (FBI has at least 5 sets for me now)
• completing medical and dental physicals (did you know there is a dental physical?) for the entire family, including my first EKG---a special requirement for employees in isolated locations
• obtaining government "no fee" passports---not to be confused with tourist passports--- which were only available within the required time period from the post office in rural Taylor, Texas (barbecue field trip!) 
• sitting through online training about terrorism for three of the four of us
• shots and rabies updates and a physical for our Cairn terrier Spike, who didn't make it to Cuba after all  *sniff sniff*  :(

And then there was the painful experience of traveling at least four times to Ft. Hood for paperwork and a pack-out briefing, after which they lost all our paperwork and we had to do it again. I didn't miss the bureaucracy the 15 years we had been out of the military life. More than once, my husband grinned at me while standing in yet another line for yet another walk-in appointment and said, "Are you sure you are up for this again?"

Of course he knew the answer was a resounding, "YES!"

Official government business. . . as a librarian. Sweet!! 

Meanwhile, as I was dealing with "the packet," I was still working full-time. I was a wreck. With the exception of my principal, whom I immediately told I was considering leaving before I even had an interview, and whom I respected enough that I really, really wanted his blessing, none of my colleagues knew that I was FREAKING OUT and trying to stay calm and professional when all the while, I was on the verge of a complete and total nervous breakdown. I broke out in hives and couldn't eat. A group of kids I had worked with for five years excitedly told me plans for the club I sponsored, and after they left, I shut my office door and burst into tears. I would miss them so much.  I lied to most of my colleagues with the exception of a few administrators about why I was missing work. I sadly went through the motions at both kids' open houses, knowing we would soon be telling these teachers and groups of friends goodbye.

I learned that I really, really hate keeping secrets and lying, even if it's "little white lies."

The day I got my orders, I went on leave, tried to get rid of the majority of 20+ years of furniture and household goods, and prepared a house we had lived in for 8 years (and the only home our youngest has ever known) to sell and would probably never see again. I lost count of how many people we told about our upcoming adventure (which was always accompanied with the explanation that yes, we can go to Cuba and there really is a base there; no, I won't be a librarian for the prison!) We sadly said goodbye to our family and tried to act brave, all the while, being a little terrified of the vast unknown.

So that's the story of how I was sitting at work, minding my own business, when a phone call lead me to another country only 46 days later.

I have friends and family who have told me that we are brave/crazy/ambitious/irresponsible/adventurous or a little of all of the above for our seemingly sudden decision to move and work abroad.

Here's the thing---we always knew that one day, we would get the opportunity to do it. Sometimes opportunity to make a big change only happens once. You can either jump, or you can sit around and wonder "what if?" I am the kind of person who would rather jump and experience success or failure, than live with regrets. I don't think that makes me brave/crazy/ambitious/irresponsible/adventurous.  I think it's just normal.

I was talking to my parents this weekend about their recent 50 year high school reunion, and my mom was telling me about some of the comments people made when they found out that I was living in Cuba. She said something to the effect of, "I still can't believe you did it. It was brave. I don't think I could have ever been that brave at your age, or even younger." But I disagree. Making big leaps runs in my family.

My sister and her husband took a huge gamble and started their own business. My father and mother moved to a town where they didn't know a soul so he could take over a drugstore and be a first-time business owner. My Papaw was the first person in his family to go to college. He eventually ran for office of Superintendent---and won. My Granny gave up a nursing career in her late 30s to get married and eventually had children---and having lost her own mother as a toddler, she had to raise 2 daughters without her mother's advice (and being raised in part by old maid aunts, they weren't help, either). My Grammaw decided to go out on a date with a rather persistent, nice young man she met at a bus stop (who was, of course, my Paw). My now-husband told me he was joining the Army and "the military doesn't move girlfriends," so we got married within a month. We lived a very comfortable life with an only child for seven years, and decided that we wanted one more child to make our family complete.

You don't have to do anything radical or drastic to make a change, and I'm still navigating the challenges of living here and dealing with how to make it a positive experience for both of my kids.

But you can't sit on your butt the rest of your life and have regrets for not chasing your dreams.