Today, I have become a certified TEFL teacher. Meh. Completion dates aren’t all that exciting. So here on the afternoon of my TEFL graduation, I am content to watch “the future come and go in the mildly discouraging way that futures do.” (Good Omens, paraphrased)
No need for fireworks or applause. No need for crepe paper (devilishly tricky stuff, that) or cake (but I wouldn’t say no!). I’m a little tired after a night out with the girls (“free sangria for ladies” night is a fantastic idea) and a little exhausted thinking about my 7 a.m. flight tomorrow and subsequent four hour delay in Madrid.
But mostly, I am quietly happy, and it’s not because I’ve passed a class. It’s difficult to explain why, but I am basking in the warmth of contentment.
For the last 22 years of my life, I have lived, ate, and slept with people who grew up in families of a white, upper middle-class American, Christian background. For the last three and a half years, I have been ensconced in an even thicker bubble of rich American Christians. To be clear, I love my people and my country (and their driers and love of God). But it’s terribly stifling way to live your life, forever unsurprised by the people around you.
Traveling is not always comfortable (here, I cite again the lack of driers and the Heathrow Airport and throw in a word or two about limited language capabilities). But it’s always rewarding.
So, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go bask in contentment for the time I have left here.