never, never, never give up

I worked in the financial services industry for six years before I decided I wanted to do something different with my life.  Something to help people.  As a kid, I always looked up to the humanitarian figures- strong females such as Princess Diana and Mother Theresa.  Even my mom scored high on my list of people I wanted to be like.  She was a high school teacher, and absolutely loved her job.  No matter what school she taught in, or where we lived, with out a doubt she would always become the 'favorite teacher' in her school.  She bought winter coats, and eye-glasses for her kids that couldn't afford it.  She went to tell one of her student's parents that their daughter was pregnant, because the 15 year-old was too scared to do so.  She attended student graduations, and funerals.  Her life was her students.

Although I didn't make this connection until later in my professional career, when I did it seemed as if it was always meant to be.  My entire life the examples laid before me were to help my family, friends, and neighbors.  The choice to leave finance and become a teacher was so obvious!  What better a profession than a teacher to make a difference?  This decision coincided with a move my husband and I made from San Francisco to Buffalo, NY; ironically for a professional career change of his own.

I enrolled and completed my master's program during our first year in western NY.  Since graduating, I've been searching for a job as a teacher.  It has been a year now.  To my frustration, teaching jobs are scarce.  School districts have been laying off more then they are hiring.  To top it off, I feel a strong bias towards hiring locally bred western NY'ers, as opposed to an out-of-stater like myself.  After a year of searching, a sprinkling of subbing, and lots of hoping- I still have nothing.  I am in a state of questioning whether this was the right decision.  Should I have really left finance??  Should I have left a high-paying, prestigious, glamorous job in the big city to become a low-paying, non-glamorous TEACHER?  A position that so many people disrespect?  I'm not sure the general population even realizes how hard it truly is to be a teacher.  The demand of always being 'on', of dealing with parents, school boards, politics, and overall bureaucratic BS.  Teachers walk a tight rope of rules and regulations on a daily basis, and sadly parents expect them to teach their kid the difference between right and wrong.  Tell me again, why I CHOSE to do this??  Oh yes, I had a dream to help kids.  Instead I'm getting slapped in the face for trying.

Some say the secret of life is to fall seven times, and get up eight.  Well, I've stumbled.  I'm wavering on my altruistic decision.  I'm wondering what to do next.  I'm still hoping to help the world, and make an impact in a positive way.  Although my experience in the last year has created an awful and bitter taste in my mouth, I choose to not give up.  I choose to keep trying until I get what I want.  I still have the hope of helping the world in some way, and to share my experiences through writing.  A few years ago my mom gave me a carved plaque that I've carried with me to all the places I've moved.  My husband and I placed it above the archway of our front door as a reminder when we leave our home and enter the world everyday.  It reads: 'Never, never, never give up'.  Looks like my retired mom is still teaching.

doubled edged sword

Hi, it's me again.  I have written a single blog post to my name, aside from this one now.  It's funny- when I set up this blog about a month ago, I had grand aspirations of writing something thought provoking on a daily, or somewhat weekly basis.  However, I seem to have turned up short.  It is not due to lack of substance; in fact loads has happened in the past month.  For starters...I went to the middle east, for the first time, and I left my hubbie at home.

My journey began with a 10.5 hour direct flight from JFK to the ancient metropolis called Istanbul....not Constantinople of course.  Whilst on the plane, I studied the map and was (and still am in fact) confused as to which part of the world Turkey is really in.  Geographically speaking, half of the city is in Europe, and half of it is in Asia.  So as a whole, where is the city really?  Before I left, I searched within the 'Europe section' of a Borders book store for books on Turkey/Istanbul, only to find that all books related to my country where located under the dismal one shelved section titled 'the Middle East'.  Hmmmmm, this should have been my first clue.

Once I landed, my friend/old roommate cheerfully greeted me at the airport.  I was secretly elated knowing she was coming to get me, and that I did not have to struggle getting into central Istanbul on my own.  En route to the city center, I noticed right away that the city's architecture was not just old, but alluring.  So many ancient buildings- which always makes my mind leap to their origins.  What I wouldn't give for a time machine.  The second most obvious characteristic of the city were the hills!  As we went up and down in our shuttle bus, I couldn't help drawing a comparison between where I was, and the hilly city by the bay- San Francisco.  ohhhh, how i miss it.

Given my itinerary had us leaving for Greece a few days later, I spent very little time in Istanbul.  The highlight of my time there was our trip to the Grand Bazaar, an ancient trading post- and in my opinion the original western concept of a 'mall'.  Housed in ancient mosques, there are rows and rows of shops selling everything from spices & designer purses, to hookas.  Before I left, I promised my husband I would bring him back a truly original souvenir.  So, I was on the prowl.  Down and around the rows we went, and although I was tempted by a very authentic looking Louis Vuitton hand bag, I kept my eye on the prize.  Finally- I found it!  A shop selling ancient replicas of Turkish swords and daggers.  Now I will admit, my historical knowledge of the Ottoman and Byzantine empires is pretty awful- but somehow I felt very connected to the swords and daggers from this era of history.  And I thought it would make the PERFECT souvenir.  Twenty minutes, much heckling, and two kisses later, the real silver sword was mine for only 100 Lira!  Talk about a bargain.  I was absolutely thrilled with my purchase, not to mention the story surrounding how we made the deal.  Back at my friend's apartment, I carefully stowed my sword in order to retrieve it on our return from Greece, and my way back to NY.

To make a long story short (I really have a tendency to be waaaaay too verbose and get carried away with every single detail possible) here's what happened in Greece.  We had a few hiccups upon landing in Santorini (our hotel was closed and was located on the remote side of the island- not to our knowledge of course), but we made it successfully into the little town of Fira, the thriving village we should have booked in the first place.  After two days here and a day in Oia (pronounced eeeeeee-aaaaahhhhh), I have to say GO TO SANTORINI, if you ever get the opportunity.  

The picturesque village of Oia, Santorini

It is absolutely breathtaking!  Gorgeous white stucco buildings, blue roofs, and the most dramatic views of the Mediterranean anyone could ever ask for.  From my perspective the Greeks were VERY accommodating, and surprisingly most on the island spoke English.  I really hope to take Matt back here someday, as the island is very romantic and although I was there with good friends, I know I want to come back with my man.

After a wonderful day and a half in Athens (I do not recommend any longer of a visit than this), we were headed to the airport to fly back to Istanbul when we received some pretty scary news.  A suicide bomber had attacked central Istanbul, in the area called Taksim square: exactly where I was staying, where the girls live, and where we were all headed back to.  All three of us were speechless and not quite sure what to do.  In that moment, I called Matt and we made the decision together that there was no point for me to go back to Istanbul- even if I was to spend two more days there, and half of my belongings were still residing right in Taksim square.  But the girls however, had to head back to their home and make their own preparations for leaving.  We bid farewell at the airport and I spent the night in Athens alone, until I could get on a flight to JFK the following morning.  I have never felt more relieved to be home on US soil as I did after this trip.  I am truly thankful we were not in Istanbul the day of the bombing.  I feel extremely lucky to have missed it entirely- having been so close.  Much like a double edged sword, the favorable outcome of my trip are the memories and photos I've brought back; whereas the unfavorable consequence of not listening to my gut instinct is experiencing a scare of this scale.

But wait.  What about all of the stuff I left in Istanbul?  My friend of course agreed to have it all shipped back to me.  What a gem.  So now it's been two weeks since I got home and my much anticipated package from Turkey has finally arrived.  With Matt standing beside me, I plunged into the cardboard and and rifled through all of my clothes, shoes, books, and more to find the sword.  I couldn't wait to give it to him!  At last I felt the gloss of the bag it had come in from the shop at the Grand Bazaar.  I grabbed it and pulled it through the clothes.  To my horror, it was empty.  Gone. Taken.  At immigration, customs, whatever.  After all this time, all I wanted was to see my prized sword and give it to Matt (since naturally I had built it up as the best ancient silver sword in the world) and here it was gone.  My friend told me she had indeed included it in the package, and that in all likelihood it would not make it through customs.  Naively, I was hoping that it would.  Damn!  Such disappointment.  It feels now as if the sword is just a figment of my imagination.  Like I never bought it, nor did it ever exist.

The point of my story is this:  I am more than just happy I made it home safe and sound.  I'm grateful and relieved.  But if anyone is going to Istanbul anytime soon, do you mind picking me up an ancient silver sword?  I'd prefer a curved one, please.  Ohhh, be ready barter and sell your kisses.

hello, world

Introductions, smuctions.  When I was in college, and even thereafter in my master's program, I always found it difficult to actually start a paper by writing the introduction first.  I feel an introduction is a road map, a promise really of what is to come.  Quite often I would write the bulk of the paper, and then go back and write the intro having mentally summarized exactly what the piece was about- ultimately offering my reader the option to continue reading whatever arbitrary subject I happened to delve into that week.  In the case of my newly minted blog, I have no idea of what it might become, what I will want to write about, and or the frequency of my posts.  Case in point- I make no promises!  I do know that I enjoy sharing my thoughts, and have always wanted to create my own little space to compose and discuss what I find interesting.  So here I am, world.  I can't wait to see what's in store!