Redefining…Ne, Expanding Home

“I don’t know who I want to be but I want a job that feels like my hobby.”

During one of my lessons last week, a student concluded his introduction presentation about himself with this line. He then capped off the presentation with, “Some Tips for Sarah” followed by a list of places in and around the Czech Republic I should visit.

This was my last lesson of a long week and I was exhausted. I had spoken to so many students and all of their presentations and conversations were starting to blend together. But, this line stuck with me. I too want a job that feels like my hobby and I think I may have found it. Ne, I know I found it. Teaching English here at Gymnázium Josefa Božka is not only my job for the year, it is my most valuable hobby.

Gymnázium Josefa Božka has become a sort of safe zone for me. My students check in with me before and after my lessons to make sure I will be back the following week. Some, such as the student discussed above, ensure I know about everything there is to do and see in the Czech Republic and even test my knowledge of Czech words. And then laugh as I attempt to pronounce some of them. Other students even wait for me by my office after school so we can walk to a café, go for a run, practice English or just talk to each other as friends. As I always remind my students, I am not too much older than them. I understand how stressful high school can be. I understand the pressure. I understand the anxiety. I have been there. In some ways, I still am there. And I am ready to help.

Additionally, the other English teachers in the department acknowledge my progress with lesson leading and even suggest ideas about different ways I can teach American English. As mentioned in a previous blog, I thrive off of formative feedback and view it as necessary for any sort of progress or further relationship in any community to develop. I simply need feedback and I am starting to receive it more and more.

Some teachers even say, “Sarah, you are a natural born teacher,” “Sarah, I am actually excited to see how this year goes,” and “Sarah, you are wonderful.” These are the positive comments that are very sweet and rejuvenating. I also really encourage and soak in the criticism: “You need to be a bit stricter with grades and assignments,” “Speak slower, less is more,” and “Don’t be afraid to give the students more feedback.” This blend and balance of positive and negative formative feedback meld and motivate me to keep improving for the community I hope to establish in all of my Czech classes while I am here.

Inside this classroom setting, although definitely challenging at times, teaching has become a comforting hobby for me. I know I can ask for help effectively and I know that people here will always be willing to lend me a hand. I also know that I can give back and help my colleagues and students as well. This mutual collaboration and support is the sort of setting that gives me life.

Once I step foot outside of the classroom, and even outside of my city, I find myself in situations where communication is a constant struggle. I find myself in situations that can be a bit dicey and I have never felt so alone and helpless. I have trouble reading street signs. Trains, buses, and trams are always late, and I need to strain my ears to even attempt to understand the status of the transportation that is critical to my whereabouts and proper destination of my travels. I have 1 GB of phone data per month that I need in situations such as these. However, I first always try to solve any problem using my own intuition because I must learn to ration my prized data wisely. I need to navigate these situations with the little Czech that I know and whatever confidence I can muster from my emotionally scattered brain.

I am not using this blog post to write about my transportation woes and railway traumas. Here is the point I want to make:

While I am outside the city I am cultivating my independence. At the same time, inside my city, I have my Czech family mapping out my routes and ensuring that I get to where I need to be, and as they say, more importantly, return safely home without having to turn on panic mode. I have my Czech parents checking in during moments when my first instinct is to call my American home even though I know everybody there is either asleep or just on a completely different time table as me. I have always been the older sibling, expected to have all the answers, expected to come to everybody’s rescue, whether that be editing a paper, life advising, or throwing together some sort of entertaining adventure within the setting of our living room or backyard.

I am not used to feeling so small, desperately scrambling to find my voice for basic directions. What’s more, it’s been five years since I have felt like I have had two parental figures checking in on me, helping me learn how to foster what I learn outside the safe zone of my school and flat and use the answers I gain from experience to grow as a confident and informed community member. I am not used to this but couldn’t be more thankful that this feeling, and these people, have found their way to me.

Before the students gave presentations about themselves, I gave a presentation about me. Again, I gave this presentation about 20 times and have somehow skirted around detailed questions about my family (besides the names of our nine chickens of course!). Last week this changed. One student asked the question I have thrown out of my head as I work to find my footing in my new life abroad: “I can’t see your dad in that photo. Where is he?”

As mentioned above, I have been so focused on developing a routine here that I haven’t spoken about my father’s permanent absence from my life to anybody. While at Bates, his absence was constantly on my mind and I talked through various emotions with the Multifaith Chaplain (and one of my best friends) every couple of weeks so this silence is not something that is normal for me. Caught off guard by my student, and knowing that I still had to keep composed in front of my other staring students, I pointedly said: “He passed away of cancer when I was 18.” And then when I received sympathetic stares, I quickly added a line I have had on repeat since my father’s passing: “But my family is strong, we have each other.” Difficult…but I simply had to move on with the rest of my lesson, acting as if this aspect of my family is just a mere, accepted fact of my past.

On the same day, I went on a long bike ride with Roman. We were returning from a 30-kilometer loop, passing by a stone bridge to visit his mountaineering club members and touring around his childhood village. He introduced me to his own father and we walked around his beautiful family garden. We were about 10 minutes away from our city when Roman started joking about how I have said “ano” to a number of challenging outdoor activities already as we have been hiking, climbing, cycling, or running in trails or in the mountains most weekends and some days during the week. He then casually said something along the lines of, “We have adopted you as our Czech daughter and I am glad.” He, and Pavlina, have repeated some variation of this line multiple times in the last couple of weeks. This is the first time I have heard the word “daughter,” addressed to me, come out of a father figure’s mouth in 5 years. And it didn’t feel like a replacement from what I have desperately missed. It simply felt nice.

I was talking to my boyfriend, Alex, about this moment soon after it happened. While talking with him I always bring up how hard the distance feels and even find myself counting down the days until he comes in November. My students sometimes even slightly gasp when I say I am in a long-distance relationship for the year. Whenever I give Alex a call, I always feel like I am rambling about my day, relishing any time we are able to figure out the pesky time difference and finally get to speak. Amidst my rambles, one recent comment he had has really resonated with me: “You need Fulbright. You are doing this for your dad.” As hard as it is for me to feel so disconnected from Alex’s life at times, I know that these words ring true. I need Fulbright. I need Fulbright to help me redefine…ne not redefine, expand or even maximize my associations with the word “home” and grow. My dad inspired me to apply and now I am embracing the infinite possibilities that stream from this incredible experience.

My Czech parents feel like a gift from my dad. Before I even knew about Fulbright, my dad seemed to know that this position, teaching English abroad, was the right fit for me. Although I can never thank him in person, his gift of Czech parents has granted me the support and compassion of a family while living abroad, an essential part of life I deem necessary no matter what position or experience is out there awaiting your time, energy, and skill. Beautiful, enriching and progressive moments surround us every day and they are all the more special with loved ones keeping you grounded, smiling and moving forward.

I realize why the student’s question threw me off guard and it is not because I have forgotten about my father’s passing. During my time here, for the first time in years, I do not find myself comparing my life to that I was fortunate to experience as a child. I am now embracing present moments and opportunities with my Czech family, while teaching as my hobby, with the undeniable and inexpiable strength, resilience and love passed down to me by my father and of course, my mother, six siblings, wild dog, four cats, and nine chickens back in my American home, residing on Alonesos Way in Andover. I am in no way replacing my home. I am expanding my home, letting more and more people remind me of all the support and love I have in America AND the Czech Republic. My family is not the same as it was 5 years ago and that is finally starting to feel ok.

Finally, I had to end this blog post with the fact that I completed my first 23 kilometer race this weekend. I traveled 6 hours, taking two trains and two buses to Liberec, a beautiful Czech city surrounded by the mountains. It’s pretty relevant to this blog that I ran this race because running, more specifically, competing, is an aspect of my college experience that I constantly compared to my time with my father in high school.

Every Saturday in high school and college I ran a cross country race during the fall. I forgot how much I enjoy race day vibes – I love the autumn air, beautiful foliage, support from family, friends, and teammates, and a solid dose of healthy comradery. I have always been a quiet, yet active, competitor. I crave the adrenaline rush that follows a race even if sometimes the nerves are irrational and seem to cause time to stand still. And there is nothing quite like finishing a race – the excitement, the endorphins and pure relief.

A cross country meet is such a surreal, even weird, day of emotions and activity and I didn’t think I would have trouble saying goodbye. At times, I wondered how could something that was supposed to be fun, something that I actually signed up for, cause me so much stress. But there is a reason why I competed every season of my high school and college experience. I love this feeling. I actually can’t get enough of it.

I didn’t realize how much I missed this race day environment until I was transported back there this weekend in Liberec, running a 23-kilometer mountain race with some fellow Fulbright friends. I stayed overnight in a city about an hour away from Liberec, 5 and half hours from me, in Mladá Boleslav, to stay with Fulbright friends who lived in the area. I was exhausted – mentally and physically – by the long day of travel but I got to where I needed to be without any complications.

And, as soon as I stepped inside my friend’s flat, I knew I made the right decision to sign up for the race. I dropped off my bags in her room and soon after was immediately given a heaping cup of steaming green tea. Then we just talked – sounds lame or cheesy or whatever but I felt relaxed, safe, and at home. I didn’t have to worry about navigating the language barrier for 48 hours – I could be surrounded by American friends and prep for a wild race with them.

We made pizzas and had classic Czech honey cake or Medovník (my favorite of the many Czech cakes I have tasted) and of course, more tea, and talked with nervous pre-race jitters. Sounds crazy that running 23 kilometers up a mountain in the rain brought me relief. But, I was surrounded by emotions and routines that felt familiar. And I had family and friends in Andover, Grosse Pointe, Lewiston and Česky Têšín send me words of encouragement and wish me luck all throughout the day (depending on the time difference). Again, it was not a replacement from moments I experienced in college and high school. All throughout college I used to constantly look out for my dad watching me along the track or at the finish of a cross country course. Now, although never quite the same, these words I was receiving from all over were bringing me similar feelings of comfort my dad used to bring me on race day.

The course was beautifully challenging (if that makes any sense) and the start was jammed with thousands of runners from the Czech Republic, Poland, Slovakia, Germany, and a few sprinkled from America. This was the longest distance I have ever run, let alone compete. I was a 1,500 and 800-meter runner at Bates and always joked about how hard any distance over 4 miles was for me to handle. However, once I started I just tuned everything out. The first 10-kilometers were, as the race officials described, a complicated, steep incline or as I experienced…INSANELY HILLY. At times, it was actually faster to walk up the hill than it was to attempt to run. Once I got to the peak and saw that I was only at the 10-kilometer mark and still had 13 kilometers to go, I was breathless (also in part because I was traveling up a mountain and it was harder to breathe) and awestruck.

Luckily, the second half was more of a balance and mixture of up, downhill and flat terrain. Still, I completely underestimated how challenging or complicated the downhill parts of the course would be – it was insanely steep, covered in rocks, mud, and roots. A lot of people were flying down the hill but I had to shuffle my way to the bottom at a much slower pace to ensure that I did not tumble down uncontrollably. All of these parts were insanely difficult. But for 2 hours and 10 minutes I could tune out the world and just focus on finishing at a pace that felt satisfying. It was a necessary and energizing mental shift for me. I felt back in my element and even at home in this intense race day atmosphere.

After the race, I stayed overnight at my friend’s flat again because I wanted a full day with no immediate post-race exhaustion to figure out my transportation back to Česky Têšín. We found a café close by to the bus station and recapped the race, soaking in and embracing the excitement that finds you at the conclusion of a grueling competition. I was absolutely chilled to the bone and even started turning a little blue but I had friends surrounding me, ensuring that we could find warmth ASAP. Once we were finally warm, we made lentil soup and roasted vegetables for dinner, enjoyed more of the honey cake, and even found festive mulled wine (bought completely by accident but it was a nice surprise). Our main objective was just to become warm and this cozy dinner and conversational atmosphere did just that. It also felt like a slumber party I would have had in middle school.

We ended the evening cuddled up in blankets, watching a series called “Queer Eye” – the episode we were watching involved four queer men helping a selfless and dedicated teacher see the beauty in loving herself and setting aside time for some TLC. This teacher taught these four men and helped them feel welcome in a classroom where they felt isolated and alone. This woman even slept in her office on a cot to ensure she could maximize all hours at the school for her students! Hence, these four men gathered her students together and they all helped her learn how to set aside time to take care of herself. At one point during the episode, the teacher started tearing up in front of her students and said: “Wow, I guess I have always skipped the ‘Chapter of Me.’ So, thank you.” Watching the end of this show, and hearing this teacher say these words made me think about my own life and habits. Part of me wondered if maybe I too had skipped the ‘Chapter of Me’ for the past 5 years and am only now realizing its significance.  

Securing these new feelings of “home” have helped me embrace all parts of my associations with the word “home” – the past, present, and what’s to come. All of these parts have come together to help me learn how to thrive as an independent, family-centered individual here in the Czech Republic.

Circling back to the students’ comment and question that I mentioned at the very beginning of this blog – It’s important to not forget about my American childhood roots because this will always be an essential part of how I present myself to others. But, it is ok to let new aspects of life and new friends broaden my identity and help me grow, while still holding onto rooted morals, values, and loved ones, in unexpected ways. “Home” is a beautiful and essential aspect of life and one that I am thrilled and proud to say I have in two parts of the world: America and 4,000 miles away in the Czech Republic.  

This weekend I will be visiting a friend in London, the city that gave me my European travel bug. So, until next time, ahoj! Wherever you are, enjoy your feeling of home and, of course, maybe take a peek at your own “Chapter of Me.”  🙂