Twenty years ago today, I moved abroad to teach for a year.
I left the United States the morning of July 2nd, 2006 with a few large pieces of luggage. I arrived in Seoul the evening of July 3rd, and I started teaching at a brand new kindergarten on July 4th. (On July 5th—early enough that it was still July 4th in the US—North Korea launched missiles tests. My brother was in Iraq at the time. My poor mom!)
I’d decided to teach abroad with very little notice.
At the time, I was a third-year teacher in the Atlanta area. I was engaged to a guy who was finishing his PhD, and I knew I’d be quitting my job to follow him wherever he landed a job.
One day in mid-May, he broke up with me. It came out of nowhere, and he said he was afraid of growing up. (Seriously.) He also said I could find a roommate to take over the large rental we shared. He was flying to California the next day for a job interview.
The next morning, I went to work feeling numb. Before I made it to my classroom, a coworker asked how I was. I burst into tears. She told me to put together sub plans and leave. She took care of telling admin what was going on and got someone to put in for a sub. (I can’t remember this woman’s name, but I’m grateful for her.)
As my red Ford Ranger flew along the Perimeter, thoughts tumbled through my head.
I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK.
I’d traveled domestically and internationally alone. A year or two earlier, I’d read several books about living abroad. Still, the books I’d read featured very few women, and the authors seemed to have family money to fall back on if things went sideways. I had worries they didn’t have.
I have friends. I have a job. I have an apartment.
It all felt a bit impossible.
I have until June first to get out of my contract without risking my teaching license.
But then my future plans crumbled in front of me.
I was supposed to move. I wanted to move.
And everything felt just a bit more possible.
I could stay here. I should stay here.
Only six weeks earlier, I’d spent spring break in Germany with my friend Mark. He’d just finished a degree through a German university; that program had him study at three universities in three countries on three continents. His classmates came from all over the world and loved to travel.
If I stay here, I’ll never leave.
One of Mark’s classmates, Scott, had taught English in Korea for a year. I’d asked Scott a lot of questions about his experience. Frankly, I was a bit jealous that he’d been able to do something so drastically different from what I knew.
I want to leave.
I parked in front of the house. His truck was gone.
I have to leave.
I logged on the computer and navigated to Dave’s ESL Café.
I’ll be OK. I’ll be OK. I’ll be OK.
