Homesick? Nah... Just a Bit Under the Weather.

I wouldn't say I'm feeling homesick.

To me, that word conjures up the image of a 6-year-old, crying on her bunk bed on the first week of overnight camp. Admittedly, I was that girl once, but now I am a fully grown adult. I am not at summer camp, nor am I crying. I am not homesick.  But sometimes an expat Canadian gets a bit under the weather, and feels like the only cure is a watery coffee and soggy bagel from Tim Hortons.

This past week was a big one for Canada; a casual scroll through my Facebook news feed makes that strikingly clear. We have a new Liberal Prime Minister with great hair! Stephen Harper's reign is over! The Blue Jays are doing really well! A cat cafe is opening in Guelph! (Okay, that last one is maybe just exciting to me). Yes, it does seem like a really good time to live in the great white north, but I can still follow the news from abroad and share in my Canadian friends' excitement.

And the memes. So many memes.

The real reason I feel under the weather? It's the little things. The things that don't seem like a big deal at the time, but they creep up on you slowly and silently. You could be having a shower, or putting a pot on the stove, or plugging in your phone at night, when you hear it: That little voice in your head that says "you're not quite at home here". Suddenly, all the other little reasons come crashing into your mind, uninvited guests that somehow make you feel like the unwelcome one.

There's a point when "new and novel" becomes "unfamiliar and frustrating", and for me, that moment happened in the kitchen. We had just moved into a new place, and were starting to get settled. I had just gotten home from a tough day at work that involved dodging a pencil being lobbed at my head by a 5 year old, and writing on the whiteboard in permanent marker. I just wanted to make a veggie patty in the oven for dinner. I pulled out the patties, lettuce, pita bread, hummus, all the fixings needed to construct a delicious veggie burger. Then I went to turn on the oven, and the confusion began. First of all, instead of a dial with temperatures on it, there was one with single numbers: 3,5,8, and dots in between. Okay, not sure what those mean but I can deal with this. I turned the knob. Nothing happened. I lift up the cover over the burners, confirming my suspicion that this was a gas stove. But could the oven be gas too? I have never dealt with that in my life. Maybe Beth has, she's been camping a million times and knows her way around fire better than I do. I knock on her door and drag her downstairs to investigate. She's got nothing. We spend a few minutes searching "How to light a gas oven" on Youtube to underwhelming results. We could try doing it...but what if we accidentally blow up the oven/kitchen/entire house? With the landlady out of the house and my veggie burgers melting on the counter, I felt helpless and hungry.

In that moment, I started thinking about other unfamiliar encounters: First of all, why does nobody here have a clothes dryer here? Do they enjoy using crunchy towels? Why is the shower so confusing? And the washing machines are so tiny. And the fridges. And the roads. And who came up with the idea of outlets that you have to switch on and off? I had my phone plugged in all night and woke up to 20 percent battery. It's easy to let the negative thoughts overwhelm you, and everyone deals with this differently. Beth and I dealt with it by packing the veggie burgers and toppings back into the fridge, putting on our coats, and going for Indian food. It was delicious. There were no leftovers.

It's easy to feel homesick on your bad days. It's easy to start thinking that all of your problems are a direct result of not being at home. But what's tougher, is to accept that there were good and bad days back home too. You can't escape from all of your problems by moving. What you can do is think of all the positive experiences you've had, wherever you are. Yesterday, I went for a beautiful, scenic walk across the Clifton Suspension bridge, watched deer grazing amidst the fall colours, and met a herd of curious cows while waiting for the bus. I have had some amazing experiences here, and I will not let any landlord problems, crunchy towels, or gas stoves ruin that for me.
                                   

The view from Clifton Suspension Bridge

More bridge times.

Cow photobombs other cow.

Magical woodland moments.

I think that if I were to give up and come home so soon, I would feel homesick in a different way. There's a lot that I would really miss about Bristol. When we travel, we are essentially building a collection of places and times to be nostalgic for. Keeping that in mind seems to put things in perspective a little bit. To anyone reading this who is far from home and going through similar feelings, you're not alone. Just try to keep yourself busy and think about all the awesome things you've seen and done so far. There will be more awesome things ahead, I promise. But if all else fails, I find that a big plate of Indian takeout also does the trick.


C.

Chips, Crisps and Lucky Dip: A Muggle's Guide to British English.

When I first decided that I wanted to teach abroad after graduating, I remember telling people "I'm going to go teach English in Korea!". I had Korean English academies bookmarked on my laptop and dreams of Kimchi and K-Pop in my heart. However, as graduation crept closer and closer, something changed.

 I can't explain what it was that flipped that switch in my head, but all of a sudden, Korea seemed really far away, and the prospect of committing to a full year in a country where I don't speak the language seemed terrifying. Where England had seemed like a boring option in the past, it now seemed like a much more reasonable choice for my first teaching and "big" travel experience.

I figured that at least speaking the same language as everyone around me would be a comfort in an unfamiliar place. As it turns out, I was right...and wrong.

The first thing you need to understand is that British English is not just Canadian English with an adorable accent. I thought I had prepared myself by watching Skins and The Inbetweeners, not to mention having a whole childhood's worth of Harry Potter etched into my subconscious. But the sad truth is, I have often found myself feeling like a muggle amongst a whole country full of English wizards. So I have compiled a small Muggle's Guide to some of the most common confusing words and phrases that I've encountered in England:

You Alright/Okay?: This is an important one, because it is so commonly used. At first, it seems like British people are just really concerned about your well-being. Then, you start to wonder -- 'Do I look like I'm not alright? Do I look sick? Or worried? I just have a naturally worried face! That's just how my face looks!' However, when British people ask "You alright?", it is a casual greeting along the lines of "How's it going?". But it gets more confusing, because apparently a proper way to answer this is to just say "Alright?". Quite honestly, I still feel weird answering a question with the same question, so I usually mumble something like "Yeah I'm good, how're you?" and immediately sound a hundred times more Canadian.

Toilets: In Canada, a toilet is a toilet -- the thing you flush. In England, it is the room where the toilet is located. This does not work the same way for other rooms/appliances. Just go with it.

Nick(ed): This refers to stealing something.  I've heard this one before, but it's much more common here and sometimes catches me off guard. For example: A little girl in reception (kindergarten) came up to me and said: "Miss H... Katie nicked my Barbie doll!" "She...licked...your doll??" I replied, only slightly bewildered because they are in kindergarten and it would have also been plausible if she had licked it.

Bin: Refers to the rubbish bin/garbage can. It is a really bad idea to tell your students to put their work in their bins.

Hob:  Burner, like the ones on your stove. No relation to hobbits.

Cheers: This is just much more widely used as a way to casually say "thanks" or "goodbye". I honestly have only been able to slip in a "cheers" a few times without feeling like an impostor Canadian.

Quid: I had finally started using 'pounds' and 'pence' regularly instead of 'dollars' and 'cents', when someone threw in a 'quid' and I was all like "Woah there pal. Now you're just making up words to confuse me". But it means 'pounds' in the same way that we would say 'five bucks'.

Potatoes: *A separate illustrated section is required on potatoes, both because of their personal importance to me, and also the sheer number of potato-related words that are different here.

• Jacket Potato:

No.

Yes. Delicious.

• Chips: Fries, but more specifically, thick cut fries.

True, natural beauty.

• Fries: Not as commonly used but can refer to thin, long cut potatoes such as good old Micky D's. 

  

  I am salivating.

• Crisps: Chips. Like the kind you get in a bag, or the kind that people put out in a bowl at university residence parties, and then accuse you of eating all of them and knock on your door demanding a dollar. Purely hypothetical example.

                                        Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections.                                           

Lucky Dip: A kind of raffle-like draw where you can win prizes. I am including this in here for Beth's sake. At her work, she was told that there would be a lucky dip later. Naturally, she anticipated some sort of magical guacamole. There was no guacamole, but she did win a men's shower gel so there's that.

Although there are many more small differences between Canadian and British English, I will leave it at that for now. Those photos of potatoes are making me really hungry, so I think I'll go grab some fries. I mean chips. I mean crisps. ...Can someone pass the lucky dip??

-- C.

Why is Nobody Clapping?? -- My First Week as a Supply Teacher.

Imagine: You are a newly qualified Elementary school teacher. You have folders on your laptop overflowing with successful lesson plans from your student teaching placements. You know your way around a rubric and have learned to harness the power of "If you can hear me, clap once". You know so many teaching acronyms that you feel you've achieved second-language fluency. You feel armed with knowledge, ready to teach engaging lessons and make a difference in students' lives. You feel totally prepared to walk into your first day of teaching with a smile on your face and the best intentions in your heart.

But it is on that first day, that you will realize that you are completely and utterly wrong.

You are standing at the front of the class, register in hand, trying to accomplish the seemingly simple task of getting 25 small humans to sit down on the carpet quietly. There are children running around the classroom. Children yelling across the room to their friends. One is tugging on your sleeve asking to use the toilet. Another stands in front of you complaining: "Miss! He's calling me names!". "I AM NOT!", the culprit protests from across the room, adding to the growing noise level. You've tried clapping once, twice, three times. They can hear you. Why aren't they clapping back?? "Miss, do you want me to write the names of everyone being silly on the board?" asks a well-intentioned girl, but you don't even know where to start -- it would be much easier at this point to write a list of who's not being silly. You don't want to yell. You told yourself you wouldn't be the kind of teacher who yells, but what choice do you have? "EVERYONE, PLEASE SIT DOWN OR WE ARE ALL STAYING IN FOR BREAK!" you shout, vocal chords straining to be heard amidst the chaos. A few children yell out in protest, but the noise continues, and you wonder to yourself -- out of all of the professions in the world, why did I choose to become a teacher??

On Monday, I began my first full week of supply teaching in Bristol, UK. The scenario described above was my first day in a nutshell. I didn't imagine that I would need to call the Head Teacher in to discipline the class on my very first day of teaching, but I did. I felt disheartened and inadequate, and I questioned whether I was really cut out for this whole teaching thing. But I thought to myself, it's just one day. Maybe it's just a bad day. Tomorrow will be better.

And by some miracle, it was.

That's not to say that there haven't been ups and downs since then, but I'm learning. I'm learning that not every classroom is as chaotic as the first, but some are. I'm figuring out strategies to deal with behaviour, to motivate students...and to hold myself together when these things occasionally, but inevitably fail.

Supply teaching is not an easy job: You are a stranger with no authority coming into a classroom and trying to tell students what to do. But it can be a rewarding job too, as I've found out over the past week.

Never underestimate the power of the
 "mystery prize box".

I've been drawn pictures, given lots of hugs, and greeted by name in the hallways. I've learned that five year olds don't quite get the concept of knock-knock jokes, but their attempts are more hilarious and adorable than the actual punchline would have been anyway. I've gotten to witness Year One boys performing an impromptu song and dance routine to "Uptown Funk" without fully knowing the words, but they tried really hard and that's what counts. I've answered many a curious question about Canada, and discovered that reward stickers are truly magical in their power to silence a noisy classroom. I've taught Spanish with no knowledge of Spanish whatsoever. I've tied shoes, sang songs, and comforted a little girl who was crying because her pet cat was "in the sky" now.

In summary, I've survived. And for a new supply teacher, I think that's an accomplishment in itself. And for now? It's enough.


-- C.