So, many people say to me, "I don't understand why you are you single. Have you tried online dating?"
The answer is yes. Obviously, yes. I am a member of the 21st century and am (somewhat) adept at incorporating technology into my everyday life. (I have a blog, right?) So of course I've tried online dating and the results have been, let's just say, less than desirable.
My "favorite" response (and yes, I am using the quotation marks ironically) was when someone actually sent me a message asking, "You are a man, right?" Yeah, that's exactly the kind of thing a girl wants to read. (And seriously, have you seen my boobs? I mean, everyone knows I'm a chick.) And there's always the generic cut-and-paste response that a guy has clearly sent out to a multitude of women hoping just one -- JUST ONE -- will garner a response. It's like he's throwing a crap-load of bait into the water assuming there's at least one fish in the school that's too stupid not to bite. Today, one gentleman sent me a message that just said, "Hi." Um, ok, are you two years old? Because that's the kind of social interaction I'd expect out of a toddler.
To be fair, a few responses have been more than normal and even, dare I say, witty? To those, if I have the time, I try and respond because a well-thought-out, educated and amusing response deserves a reply, even if it's just to validate the effort. But mostly, the messages go something like this (and yes, this is a real message but I've left off the name to protect the ridiculous):
HI
is anyone accompanying you to Kilimanjaro?
I think your hot and very desireable.
I love kissing and spoiling my girl just because.
Where to begin. Is it the incorrect use of capital and lowercase letters? Obviously, there's the misspelled use of the word "your" (you're), which any intelligent woman would immediately roll her eyes at and the misspelling of the word, desirable. However, where you really lose me is the last sentence -- why is it that guys think that "girls" (by the way, I'm 39 and clearly qualify as a woman) want to be spoiled? Blech, yuck, ick and any other retching sound I can make that approximates the act of fake vomiting.
This is just the tip of the iceberg. Therefore, I have decided to continue to dedicate this space to sharing the good, bad and ugly of the online dating world with the public to shed light on the challenges of being a 39-year-old dating in the modern era. Enjoy.
(And if you know a great man in the LA area who is funny, witty and kind -- and single, he's got to be single -- please share. It's not cool to keep these kind of things to yourself.)
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Planes, Trains and Metalheads
Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the romantic experience that is the Czech and Polish railway system. Let’s begin with the Prague train “station.” TimeOut describes this transportation hub in the Czech Republic’s largest city as, “...dirty inside and out, it’s a haven for the homeless, junkies and cruising rent boys.” Charming. Thankfully, I was there bright and early Sunday morning, because, even though I’ve done things like walk out of clubs in NYC’s meatpacking district at 4:00 a.m. (before the meatpacking district was “hip”), this is not a place I’d want to be once the lights go down.
After frantically searching for the ticket windows (which were not by the track platforms but, instead, hidden in the metro station below) and buying a non-reserved ticket (mistake) to Krakow, I boarded my rusty, creaky train and promptly discovered that the only seating option was a plastic, pull-down seat in the center of the narrow train aisle. Accepting the fact that this would be my situation for the next five hours (five hours!), I sat my ass down (mistake), pulled out a book and began to read.
About one hour into the trip, we stopped in a small town in the Czech Republic that had just hosted a three-day, outdoor music festival with headliners such as Kasabian, Röyksopp and other various umlauted-named bands. Onto the train poured groups of hardcore metal-heads, ripe from what was surely an exuberant weekend of moshing, head-banging and air-guitaring in a shower-free, outdoor camp environment.
Don’t get me wrong – aside from the obvious assault on my olfactory senses, I had no problem being sandwiched between large groups of my fellow travelers and music aficionados. That is until I realized I had to pee and there was a rather large group of them sitting on the floor, blocking my access to the restroom. Oh, and did I mentioned they were stoned out of their minds and snorting bumps of heroin, which they poured onto their hands from rather convenient, tic-tac case looking containers?
Which brings me to….
Benefits of Group Travel #1: Protection from Heroin-Snorting Metalheads
Because seriously, if having a run-in with heroin-snorting metal-heads on the way to the train bathroom isn’t reason enough to have friends with you when you travel, what is?
After finishing my “business” and stepping back over my new “friends”, I returned to my plastic, pull-down seat, put away my bottled water and wept silently, making every attempt to empty my body of liquid substances so that I would not have to keep mixing with the locals. Luckily, within the next two hours, most of the metal-heads exited the train and I was able to breathe (literally) a sigh of relief.
Upon my arriving at the Katowice station in Poland, I disembarked to switch trains and met Shane from Nova Scotia. We narrowly escaped boarding a train back to the Czech border (no signage at the train station makes for some interesting travel shenanigans) and eventually boarded our train to Krakow. Turns out Canadian Shane has taught EFL (English as a Foreign Language) for more than 10 years, first in Korea and now, in Qatar, and so we swapped stories about the joys and stresses of teaching English language learners until we reached Krakow.
It was raining, so Shane and I shared a cab into town, where we separated to check into our respective hotels -- mine was Hotel Ester in Kazimierz, the former Jewish ghetto that served as the setting and location for Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. After reuniting for dinner and drinks near Krakow’s massive town square, we called it a night and got some much needed sleep.
After frantically searching for the ticket windows (which were not by the track platforms but, instead, hidden in the metro station below) and buying a non-reserved ticket (mistake) to Krakow, I boarded my rusty, creaky train and promptly discovered that the only seating option was a plastic, pull-down seat in the center of the narrow train aisle. Accepting the fact that this would be my situation for the next five hours (five hours!), I sat my ass down (mistake), pulled out a book and began to read.
About one hour into the trip, we stopped in a small town in the Czech Republic that had just hosted a three-day, outdoor music festival with headliners such as Kasabian, Röyksopp and other various umlauted-named bands. Onto the train poured groups of hardcore metal-heads, ripe from what was surely an exuberant weekend of moshing, head-banging and air-guitaring in a shower-free, outdoor camp environment.
Don’t get me wrong – aside from the obvious assault on my olfactory senses, I had no problem being sandwiched between large groups of my fellow travelers and music aficionados. That is until I realized I had to pee and there was a rather large group of them sitting on the floor, blocking my access to the restroom. Oh, and did I mentioned they were stoned out of their minds and snorting bumps of heroin, which they poured onto their hands from rather convenient, tic-tac case looking containers?
Which brings me to….
Benefits of Group Travel #1: Protection from Heroin-Snorting Metalheads
Because seriously, if having a run-in with heroin-snorting metal-heads on the way to the train bathroom isn’t reason enough to have friends with you when you travel, what is?
After finishing my “business” and stepping back over my new “friends”, I returned to my plastic, pull-down seat, put away my bottled water and wept silently, making every attempt to empty my body of liquid substances so that I would not have to keep mixing with the locals. Luckily, within the next two hours, most of the metal-heads exited the train and I was able to breathe (literally) a sigh of relief.
Upon my arriving at the Katowice station in Poland, I disembarked to switch trains and met Shane from Nova Scotia. We narrowly escaped boarding a train back to the Czech border (no signage at the train station makes for some interesting travel shenanigans) and eventually boarded our train to Krakow. Turns out Canadian Shane has taught EFL (English as a Foreign Language) for more than 10 years, first in Korea and now, in Qatar, and so we swapped stories about the joys and stresses of teaching English language learners until we reached Krakow.
It was raining, so Shane and I shared a cab into town, where we separated to check into our respective hotels -- mine was Hotel Ester in Kazimierz, the former Jewish ghetto that served as the setting and location for Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List. After reuniting for dinner and drinks near Krakow’s massive town square, we called it a night and got some much needed sleep.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
What Happens in Prague...
Bridge crossing – take two. By early morning, I had walked back to the entrance of the St. Charles Bridge and, despite the warning clouds hovering overhead, made it across dry and without incident. Instead of heading back toward the castle, I walked south into Mala Strana and Kampa, home of lovely parks and d
isturbing, large-scale, surrealist public works of art. I crossed back over the river into Nove Mesto (literally, new town) and, after some tea and French toast at the Globe Bookstore, walked to Wenceslas Square.Wenceslas Square is where every significant event in Prague’s last century has happened, including the founding of the Czech Republic in 1918 and the end of the Soviet regime in 1989. It’s also the home to the city’s “casinos” and various strip clubs where “optional services” are on the menu.
Which brings me to a realization -- Prague is the Vegas of Europe. Large groups of guys – from England, Scotland, Italy and elsewhere – come here to drink beer and engage in various forms of debauchery, oftentimes on the eve of one of their mates’ nuptials. And much like their female counterparts in Vegas, who run around Vegas in packs wearing pink boas, tiaras and tops bedazzled with “bridesmaid”, these stag-party members roam the narrow streets of Prague in matching outfits, declaring their membership and intent to the world.
On this particular Saturday night in the main square, I spotted one stag party wearing matching t-shirts with their respective nicknames on the back and a Scottish group wearing matching kilts and presumably nothing underneath (their clans must be so proud). And although I never saw one, I’m sure there was a group rolling around on Segways somewhere in town. (Seriously, there were Segway tour groups everywhere.) And as they walked by, lovely girls hired by the local establishments would pass out cards offering drink specials and good times.
Don’t get me wrong – I love Vegas. I mean, I really love Vegas. It’s just that I didn’t travel thousands of miles to a different continent just to watch a real-time episode of Entourage play out before my eyes. So, I walked back to my hotel, packed up and got some sleep in preparation for my train trip to Krakow the next morning.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Hells Bells
Another eight hours of sleep later (like I said, I was exhausted), I cleaned up and headed out for a day of walking around Prague. First up was Prague Castle in Hradcany, an enormous medieval complex that is the dominant architectural feature of the city. On the way, I met Roger from Melbourne and we walked across the powder bridge into the castle’s massive, second courtyard. Roger bolted after I took a picture of him in front of St. Vitus’s Cathedral (turns out he just wanted to placate his mum by getting photographic evidence of his “visit”) and I entered into one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen.
As most people know, I’m not exactly a “church person”, but this stunning example of Gothic architecture blew me away with its dramatic, arched high ceilings and enormous, jewel-toned stained glass windows. Of course, once I saw the tomb of St. John of Nepomuk (King Wenceslas IV threw him off the St. Charles bridge to his death in 1393), which is plated with two tons of silver, it became clear to me why the Reformation happened.
In an effort to get in some cardio, I climbed the 187 stairs in the bell tower and got a look at Sigismund, which weighs 33,330 pounds and is the largest bell in Bohemia. I took their word for it, headed back down and checked out the Toy M
useum, which promised an exhibit of Barbies and over-delivered by adding life-sized figures of Darth Vader and Jar Jar Binks to the mix. On the way out of the castle grounds, I considered joining the Greek language tour group but decided against it and headed into town instead.Two churches, one lunch, four Segway-powered Greeks, two scary puppet stores and one absinthe-themed ice cream parlor later, I prepared to cross the famous St. Charles Bridge when the skies opened up and it poured. I mean, really poured, as in a torrential rainfall. So instead of walking, I ran across the bridge, eventually making it into (name), Prague’s old town square after nearly mowing down a group of Greek yiayias who, alas, were not on Segways. I contemplated buying a box of beer and taking a seat in the square, much like groups of backpacking “youngsters” around me, but instead opted for a more adult, and bourgeois, indulgence, a 90-minute Thai massage at my hotel. By 9:30 p.m., I was loose, tired and ready for bed.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Flying to Prague
The day started out great when I got onto my Delta plane to Atlanta and discovered that it was wi-fi enabled, allowing me to spend the entire five-hour flight checking email and Facebook with teenage abandon. Combine that with the free satellite television on the screen in front of me, and I was in entertainment heaven, engrossed in my own little world in the same way as when they used to give away Colorform toys on TWA. Delta is my new favorite airline!
After a brief layover in Hotlanta (you could feel the heat on the jet way), I boarded my Delta flight to Prague, expecting more of the same. Which it wasn’t. No wi-fi. No in-seat entertainment system. No working audio on the movies overhead. Nothing. At all. Delta is the worst airline ever! Since I was tired from all my earlier technological fun and games, I figured I would sleep the entire night, which of course, didn’t happen. Ten hours later, I arrived in Prague, exhausted but ready to explore.
Turns out I didn’t need to worry about the Czech cabbies – the airport only allows the reputable companies into its cue, so I grabbed a taxi and headed to Josefov, the former Jewish ghetto in Stare Mesto, the city’s old town. In the cab, I was pleased to see that there was a 2000 Czech Crown penalty (approximately 400 US dollars) for “Foulness Car,” which my cabbie strategically avoided by hanging two “Wunderbaum” trees from his rearview mirror.
After arriving at Hotel Josef, I checked out my room (see Best of Traveling Solo #6 below) and laid down for a brief, ten-hour nap, waking up at 7:00 p.m. I took a shower, left the hotel and walked the cobblestone streets of Josefov, which is filled with chic restaurants, shops and cafes in the same vein of NYC’s Soho. Dinner consisted of veal steak and two Budvars, the far-more delicious namesake of St. Louis’ Budweiser, and I finally understood why Budvar sued Anheiser-Busch over its name (I would, too, if my hometown’s swill tried to imply that it is Budvar’s equivalent). As I quickly got schnockered, fireworks exploded overhead (literally, not figuratively), an apparent tribute some “rich person’s birthday” according to my waitress. I prefer to think it was Prague’s way of saying, “Welcome Maria. We are happy to have your awesomeness in our little town.”
Best of Traveling Solo #6: No Sharing of Hotel Toiletries
Please, we all do it. You enter your new hotel room, quickly check out the sleeping arrangements and then book to the bathroom to check out the quality of the toiletries kindly left for you by the hotel staff.
If it’s the hotel’s generic crap, there’s no issue. But when it’s the high-class products, all bets are off. Staying with roommates complicates things and requires Secretary of State-level negotiation skills to extricate yourself from the situation with the toiletries – and your friendships – intact. But when you’re by yourself? You can grab the Aveda Rosemary Mint shampoo (and conditioner and lotion and body wash) with Gollum-like obsession and declare that, “they’re mine, all mine.”
After a brief layover in Hotlanta (you could feel the heat on the jet way), I boarded my Delta flight to Prague, expecting more of the same. Which it wasn’t. No wi-fi. No in-seat entertainment system. No working audio on the movies overhead. Nothing. At all. Delta is the worst airline ever! Since I was tired from all my earlier technological fun and games, I figured I would sleep the entire night, which of course, didn’t happen. Ten hours later, I arrived in Prague, exhausted but ready to explore.
Turns out I didn’t need to worry about the Czech cabbies – the airport only allows the reputable companies into its cue, so I grabbed a taxi and headed to Josefov, the former Jewish ghetto in Stare Mesto, the city’s old town. In the cab, I was pleased to see that there was a 2000 Czech Crown penalty (approximately 400 US dollars) for “Foulness Car,” which my cabbie strategically avoided by hanging two “Wunderbaum” trees from his rearview mirror.
After arriving at Hotel Josef, I checked out my room (see Best of Traveling Solo #6 below) and laid down for a brief, ten-hour nap, waking up at 7:00 p.m. I took a shower, left the hotel and walked the cobblestone streets of Josefov, which is filled with chic restaurants, shops and cafes in the same vein of NYC’s Soho. Dinner consisted of veal steak and two Budvars, the far-more delicious namesake of St. Louis’ Budweiser, and I finally understood why Budvar sued Anheiser-Busch over its name (I would, too, if my hometown’s swill tried to imply that it is Budvar’s equivalent). As I quickly got schnockered, fireworks exploded overhead (literally, not figuratively), an apparent tribute some “rich person’s birthday” according to my waitress. I prefer to think it was Prague’s way of saying, “Welcome Maria. We are happy to have your awesomeness in our little town.”
Best of Traveling Solo #6: No Sharing of Hotel Toiletries
Please, we all do it. You enter your new hotel room, quickly check out the sleeping arrangements and then book to the bathroom to check out the quality of the toiletries kindly left for you by the hotel staff.
If it’s the hotel’s generic crap, there’s no issue. But when it’s the high-class products, all bets are off. Staying with roommates complicates things and requires Secretary of State-level negotiation skills to extricate yourself from the situation with the toiletries – and your friendships – intact. But when you’re by yourself? You can grab the Aveda Rosemary Mint shampoo (and conditioner and lotion and body wash) with Gollum-like obsession and declare that, “they’re mine, all mine.”
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I'm Goin' Solo
As many of you know, today marks the first day of my two-week adventure to Central Europe, namely Prague, Krakow, Budapest and Vienna. However, today also marks my very first extended vacation by myself. While I’ve taken a few trips alone (a few days in Melbourne before meeting Cara in Sydney; driving down the California Coast for two days this past spring break), I’ve never been by myself for two weeks, and definitely not in four cities where English is not the native language.
Everyone, including many of you, has reassured me that everything will be fine and that I’ll have a great time. However, I remain nervous about being on my own on foreign soil. (My current obsession? How will I avoid being egregiously ripped off by the notoriously shady Czech taxi drivers at the airport?) So, in the spirit of reframing the situation to make myself feel better, I give you my top five reasons for traveling solo.
#1: I Can Do Whatever I Want
You know how on most vacations, you have to check in with your travel partner(s) about the day’s itinerary? Make some compromises here and there? I don’t have to do that. At all. Instead, I can wake up in the morning and have the following conversation:
ME: “What do you want to do today?”
ME: “I was thinking we should take the tour of Prague Castle and then drink some beer for lunch.”
ME: “Sweet – that’s exactly what I want to do, too!”
ME: “I’m so glad we both agree.”
ME: “You’re awesome.”
ME: “No, YOU’RE awesome.”
It also means that, if I really want to, I can stay in the hotel room all day, watch Twilight on pay-per-view and eat room service. Because that’s what I want to do.
#2: I’ll Meet More People
This is the number-one reason people tell me not to be nervous and I think they’ve got it right. Running in a pack is intimidating to outsiders; being on my own makes me less threatening and more approachable, and therefore, it is more likely that people will reach out. Sort of like the little baby fawn that gets separated from the herd and is then hunted down by vicious wolves. But in a friendly way.
#3: Less To Pack
I have a routine for two-week trips like these – stuff the large, wheelie duffle to near-airline weight limits (say, 48 of the 50 lbs.), cram my canvas duffel carry-on with my camera equipment, books, tech and entertainment needs and snacks, and leave the really important stuff in my purse. As a result, I travel in comfort and style while still managing to carry my own things, albeit somewhat clumsily.
As I began packing for this trip, however, something struck me. Since there is no one else around to monitor my daily clothing choices, I only need three outfits -- one for each day in each city. So this time, even though I’ve just got a small carry-on, my duffel and a backpack, I can still look my adorable self every day and no one will know the difference.
#4: Cheaper Hotel Rooms
Huh? What, you ask? That doesn’t make any sense. A few weeks ago, I would have said the same thing. Singles notoriously get screwed when it comes to vacation packages due to the “based on double occupancy” clause that not only hits your wallet but also packs an emotional punch. (You’re traveling ALONE? By YOURSELF? That will be twice as much, thank you.)
Then I started booking my hotel rooms and a funny thing happened – because it’s just me, I had access to smaller and cheaper rooms at nicer hotels. Part of the discount comes from being able to reserve a single vs. a double room and part is the savings on breakfast when the second person isn’t included. And who cares if the room is slightly smaller than usual? It’s like buying the crappiest house on the nicest block – a good investment in location, location, location.
#5: Optional PJs
I’m not saying that I’m definitely going to spend two weeks hitting the sheets commando style. I’m just saying that if I want to, it’s an option.
So there you have it, my ode to singles travel. I’m sure I’ll come up with a few more reasons along the way (and few counter arguments, like riding the 10-hour train from Krakow to Budapest alone) but mostly, I’ll just be happy to have an adventure and share the experience with one of my favorite people in the world – me.
Everyone, including many of you, has reassured me that everything will be fine and that I’ll have a great time. However, I remain nervous about being on my own on foreign soil. (My current obsession? How will I avoid being egregiously ripped off by the notoriously shady Czech taxi drivers at the airport?) So, in the spirit of reframing the situation to make myself feel better, I give you my top five reasons for traveling solo.
#1: I Can Do Whatever I Want
You know how on most vacations, you have to check in with your travel partner(s) about the day’s itinerary? Make some compromises here and there? I don’t have to do that. At all. Instead, I can wake up in the morning and have the following conversation:
ME: “What do you want to do today?”
ME: “I was thinking we should take the tour of Prague Castle and then drink some beer for lunch.”
ME: “Sweet – that’s exactly what I want to do, too!”
ME: “I’m so glad we both agree.”
ME: “You’re awesome.”
ME: “No, YOU’RE awesome.”
It also means that, if I really want to, I can stay in the hotel room all day, watch Twilight on pay-per-view and eat room service. Because that’s what I want to do.
#2: I’ll Meet More People
This is the number-one reason people tell me not to be nervous and I think they’ve got it right. Running in a pack is intimidating to outsiders; being on my own makes me less threatening and more approachable, and therefore, it is more likely that people will reach out. Sort of like the little baby fawn that gets separated from the herd and is then hunted down by vicious wolves. But in a friendly way.
#3: Less To Pack
I have a routine for two-week trips like these – stuff the large, wheelie duffle to near-airline weight limits (say, 48 of the 50 lbs.), cram my canvas duffel carry-on with my camera equipment, books, tech and entertainment needs and snacks, and leave the really important stuff in my purse. As a result, I travel in comfort and style while still managing to carry my own things, albeit somewhat clumsily.
As I began packing for this trip, however, something struck me. Since there is no one else around to monitor my daily clothing choices, I only need three outfits -- one for each day in each city. So this time, even though I’ve just got a small carry-on, my duffel and a backpack, I can still look my adorable self every day and no one will know the difference.
#4: Cheaper Hotel Rooms
Huh? What, you ask? That doesn’t make any sense. A few weeks ago, I would have said the same thing. Singles notoriously get screwed when it comes to vacation packages due to the “based on double occupancy” clause that not only hits your wallet but also packs an emotional punch. (You’re traveling ALONE? By YOURSELF? That will be twice as much, thank you.)
Then I started booking my hotel rooms and a funny thing happened – because it’s just me, I had access to smaller and cheaper rooms at nicer hotels. Part of the discount comes from being able to reserve a single vs. a double room and part is the savings on breakfast when the second person isn’t included. And who cares if the room is slightly smaller than usual? It’s like buying the crappiest house on the nicest block – a good investment in location, location, location.
#5: Optional PJs
I’m not saying that I’m definitely going to spend two weeks hitting the sheets commando style. I’m just saying that if I want to, it’s an option.
So there you have it, my ode to singles travel. I’m sure I’ll come up with a few more reasons along the way (and few counter arguments, like riding the 10-hour train from Krakow to Budapest alone) but mostly, I’ll just be happy to have an adventure and share the experience with one of my favorite people in the world – me.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Musings on Global Education (August 12, 2008)
Aussie (and Canadian) Teachers: They’re Just Like Us!
We who work in high-need schools in the US tend to think that the challenges we face every day at work are unlike any other problems that other teachers and school districts deal with. High stress, low pay, students who can’t multiply, too much standardized testing, etc., etc., etc.
Guess again. After reading local newspapers, watching local television and talking with other teachers, these seem to be global trends that are endemic to the profession. Take teacher pay, for example. Australia recently passed a new pay structure that guarantees teachers somewhere between $50,000 - $75,000 in annual salary. This sounds great -- at first -- until you adjust their salaries for the weak Australian dollar and the cost of living here, which is nearly double that in Los Angeles.
In addition, there are efforts currently underway to guarantee highly-skilled teachers as much as $100,000 through performance-based bonuses as a way to prevent them from leaving the classroom to pursue higher-paying administrative jobs. Similar efforts in the US have been met with intense resistance by teacher unions although, ironically, it is the teacher’s union here that is trying to push these reforms through.
The conditions we teach in seem to be global as well. On my cruise through the Whitsundays, I spent some time speaking with another teacher on holiday from Canada, who talked about having to take on multiple roles with her students – instructor, therapist, disciplinarian, mother, doctor, friend – because they often lack these supports at home. I empathized with her tales about having to coax proficiency out of students who do not speak English, are “far below basic” and who only come to school because it is safe and structured. If it weren’t for her slight accent, I would have thought she taught at Stevenson.
This morning, the national news included a story on reforms the Australian Minister of Education is trying to pass, such as making information about school performance and student demographics (i.e. percentage of students in special education) available to parents, information already available for US schools through No Child Left Behind. The counterpoint to these reforms, presented by an education expert, was exactly the same as you would hear in the States – ranking schools would lead to “teaching to the test” and students who were “unprepared for the realities of university studies.” I cringed, however, when he said, “Do parents really want to know how many indigenous children are in their schools?” I’m not sure if he meant it as it sounded, but it reminded me of stories my brother has told me of parents being concerned with busing students in from the city because they don’t want “those kids” and “their problems” in the same classrooms with their children.
We’re facing a challenging year at Stevenson – no doubt – but this trip has convinced me that many of the things we complain about, whether fair or not, are now a permanent part of our professional reality as they are for teachers around the world. I sincerely hope we can learn to accept these truths so that we can move forward in a positive direction instead of drowning in the challenges of our “unique” situation.
We who work in high-need schools in the US tend to think that the challenges we face every day at work are unlike any other problems that other teachers and school districts deal with. High stress, low pay, students who can’t multiply, too much standardized testing, etc., etc., etc.
Guess again. After reading local newspapers, watching local television and talking with other teachers, these seem to be global trends that are endemic to the profession. Take teacher pay, for example. Australia recently passed a new pay structure that guarantees teachers somewhere between $50,000 - $75,000 in annual salary. This sounds great -- at first -- until you adjust their salaries for the weak Australian dollar and the cost of living here, which is nearly double that in Los Angeles.
In addition, there are efforts currently underway to guarantee highly-skilled teachers as much as $100,000 through performance-based bonuses as a way to prevent them from leaving the classroom to pursue higher-paying administrative jobs. Similar efforts in the US have been met with intense resistance by teacher unions although, ironically, it is the teacher’s union here that is trying to push these reforms through.
The conditions we teach in seem to be global as well. On my cruise through the Whitsundays, I spent some time speaking with another teacher on holiday from Canada, who talked about having to take on multiple roles with her students – instructor, therapist, disciplinarian, mother, doctor, friend – because they often lack these supports at home. I empathized with her tales about having to coax proficiency out of students who do not speak English, are “far below basic” and who only come to school because it is safe and structured. If it weren’t for her slight accent, I would have thought she taught at Stevenson.
This morning, the national news included a story on reforms the Australian Minister of Education is trying to pass, such as making information about school performance and student demographics (i.e. percentage of students in special education) available to parents, information already available for US schools through No Child Left Behind. The counterpoint to these reforms, presented by an education expert, was exactly the same as you would hear in the States – ranking schools would lead to “teaching to the test” and students who were “unprepared for the realities of university studies.” I cringed, however, when he said, “Do parents really want to know how many indigenous children are in their schools?” I’m not sure if he meant it as it sounded, but it reminded me of stories my brother has told me of parents being concerned with busing students in from the city because they don’t want “those kids” and “their problems” in the same classrooms with their children.
We’re facing a challenging year at Stevenson – no doubt – but this trip has convinced me that many of the things we complain about, whether fair or not, are now a permanent part of our professional reality as they are for teachers around the world. I sincerely hope we can learn to accept these truths so that we can move forward in a positive direction instead of drowning in the challenges of our “unique” situation.
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