traveling

In my twenties I lived in both Germany and England. Whenever I would return to the US in between, I would feel this sadness. I would miss my former home. I would crave Brotchen and a strong Kaffee or dream of sitting in an English pub and drinking a real hard cider. But whenever I was back in my European home I would long for Vermont. I’d fantasize about a hike in the mountains or a trip with family and friends to some fall festival or a summer fire by the lake. I always felt torn. I no longer felt quite at home in either place.

This is how I feel about being a working mom. Now that I am working I deeply miss being with Lukas. I miss our afternoons together, going to the library or some playgroup or the aquarium. I want to be the sole architect of his day. But I know that when I was simply at home with him that I was rattling my cage with intellectual boredom. I was desperate for some other sign to hang on myself besides “mama”. So I busted out and here I am straddling the border. I am not exactly living in either country. I spend my mornings in the US and my afternoons in Europe. Each country has different customs and languages. Sometimes I forget which language is spoken and I find myself trying to work and be professional while I still have baby brain.

I went to an interview the other day for a teaching job. Now I had a pretty bad cold and I didn’t want to reschedule, so I drugged myself up and forged onward. This was a grave mistake. First we chatted about the weather and how we all longed for spring. This was o.k. This language was spoken frequently at mommie groups. I was a professional at small talk. However, quite abruptly the plane landed on foreign soil.
“What is your teaching philosophy?”
My interviewers raised their pens and prepared to record my insightful and well prepared answer. Eyebrows raised. Silence in the room. My brain froze. The little mice on the wheel were trapped knee deep in mushed peas and cheerios. Nothing was coming. So I babbled about “honoring the individual student and their individual needs while working to help each individual meet their…..” ahhh, someone stop me. I stopped me. I asked to answer the question later. “Sure, sure” said my interviewers…..subtext: (“you just won’t be getting the job but that’s fine, whatever you need.”) I managed the other questions and somehow returned to address my dreaded and under rehearsed teaching philosophy. Yes, my brain had arrived in its new country, a bit jetlagged and groggy, but it had survived the bumpy landing. I don’t know if I will get the job. I’m not sure that I really care. Though I do love to travel, I also love to come home.