Small steps and giant leaps

Here it is again, that only-every-four-years opportunity to do something extraordinary. I’ve always tried to make February 29 special. Four years ago, it marked the first day of my renewed freelance career after I’d spent a few years drawing a regular paycheck, and also the day I interviewed for and was offered a job as a Major League Baseball guest services staff member.

Today, though, I am exhausted. It’s the last day of my five-week sabbatical in Guadalajara, Mexico. I slept badly last night, a mosquito tormenting me despite the repellent I’d splashed behind my ears. I had to drag myself to teach an 8:30 English class for six teenagers. (I graduated from my Teaching English as a Foreign Language course yesterday, but I’d requested a chance to teach young learners and my school obliged with a late-breaking assignment, so off I went.)

It’s still only noon and it’s my last day in Mexico. I’ve had a small nap and I ought to do something fun! I still haven’t been to Tlaquepaque, the charming smaller city near here. That was my plan for today. But I’m simply too tired to do anything but hang out in my apartment, pack my stuff, maybe read and watch Netflix a bit. Besides, it’s hot outside—I am so ready to get back to cool, green Seattle—so why shouldn’t I spend most of my last day here holed up in my apartment, a fan whirring at my side? The fact is I have worked really hard these past five weeks, as hard as I have ever worked in my life (which is saying something) and I think I will visit Jalisco again someday. So if I’m suffering a momentary lack of ambition ... so be it.

Our lives can go awry when we never get off the couch. They can also go sideways when we do nothing but go-go-go. Pacing is everything, right? For years now, I have been trying to find my way toward doing less and being more. I am proud of what I have accomplished over the past month, and I know I will be busy again sooner than I’d like. For now, I just want to sit.

I am a teacher!

One of the things I love about travel is how it helps me be creative and solve problems as they arise. Sometimes, I’ve had to decode a mysterious European lock or appliance, or find well-hidden light switches. Once, I had to use an impromptu game of charades to locate a late-night pharmacy. 

In my 12 days (so far) in Guadalajara, I’ve had many moments of thinking I’ve finally gotten in over my head. I am in a big, intense, unfamiliar city (Mexico’s second largest). Last week, I joined a beginner immersive Spanish class a week after it had started, and it was muy stressful, especially since I had a cold and wasn’t sleeping well. This week, I have begun a four-week course in Teaching English as a Foreign Language, and I am by far the oldest person in my class. (There was one other “mature” student in our cohort, but he bailed out today, on Day 3.) Amazingly, you teach your first class on the third day. That was today. 

For my first class, I had to help the students review future passive tense, which I rarely use myself. I had to look it up to remember what it means. To top it off, I had to do lesson plans today for my first two classes since the second is at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

It’s been an anxious week. But now I feel like, OK, I’ve got this. 

Mr. Ruiz, a really popular and good teacher, observed my first class, the one on future perfect, for an intermediate-level class of young adults. The theme was outer space, and over the course of the class, the students needed to decide who among them would be sent back to Earth. I’d written a lesson plan for a class of seven students, but when I arrived,  there were only five, so I had to adapt on the fly—and I did. 

In the first part of the class, I had the students talk about the positives and negatives of being an astronaut. Risk was one factor they cited, and I was able to tell them the sad story of the Challenger—as well as introduce the word “quarantine,” an experience the early astronauts had upon their return to Earth, and a concept in the news again now with the coronavirus. 

Next, I had the students talk in two groups to justify their jobs. As they talked, I had an idea to hold a secret ballot among the whole group, since it was so small. All five voted to jettison the psychologist rather than the engineer or the captain— so I got to teach the word unanimous! It was interesting to see how the class became a blend of activities I’d planned and spontaneous actions. 

At my review session, Mr. Ruiz asked how I’d rate myself and I said about a 6. “Why so low?” he asked. I mainly felt like I had plenty of room to improve. So I was a little surprised but very happy when he gave me a score of 9 out of 10! He was very complimentary of my classroom management, board use, demeanor, my low TTT (teacher talk time)—even my handwriting! One of my students, Cynthia, said it was a great class, which Mr. Ruiz said is the best compliment you can get. 

Mr. Ruiz noted that my future scores will go up and down since some classes are harder than others. His main piece of advice was that I could rely on students in a higher-level class to explain even more—to paraphrase instructions instead of simply reading them, for example. 

So my first class is behind me—and by lunchtime tomorrow, I will have taught another, and then about a dozen more over the next three weeks. I have no idea what I might do with my TEFL credential, or where I will wind up using it. But even with just one day of teaching behind me, I feel newly confident that this was a good idea. I will do something good with this new skill, something to help people achieve their goals—and something to give my own life new purpose and meaning.