People thought I was crazy to fly so soon after September 11th 2001. They thought I was crazier to travel to Madrid one week after the terrorists detonated bombs on a commuter train (originating from my second home of Alcalá de Henares), but I did it anyway. Explaining I would not let these evil people ground me and put me in fear of doing the one thing I love most....exploring this world and discovering as much as I can about it.
This Saturday is America's Independence Day. I have been invited (via groups on Facebook of which I am a member) to celebrate our nation's independence with parties and other gatherings throughout Valencia. After all the horror that has happened around the world in the past 10 days or so (especially in a part of the world that is so close to mine), I'm afraid I will be declining invites and spend the day far away from gatherings of fellow Americans.
Am I afraid you might ask? I"m not afraid, I am cautious. These people who hate Westerners and our way of life are cold and callous and want nothing more than to kill for the sake of killing. These savages take pictures with their victims after they have gunned them down in the name of religion and it makes me sick to my stomach and I have mourned for their families and like many other people have spent time trying to figure out where such evil and hatred have come from. We are not born evil...evil is taught...it is witnessed and learned and it's passed on like a virus.
The Islamic State warned the English that they would attack Tanzania, months before it happened and they held true to their word. We as Americans have been warned about the possible dangers and threats we face from ISIS and others on Saturday.
The world was a different place pre-9/11 and those of us who are old enough to remember it know this. I will continue to travel, be a citizen of the Earth and get to know my fellow global citizens, their customs and ways of life. I will not however, put a target on my back. I will not attend events publicly advertised to American citizens in a part of the world in which so much horror has taken place.
I am an American and I am proud to be one! I will not be afraid to live my life as I want, but I will also be smart and ever vigilant of the world around me and not call unwanted attention to myself.
Happy Birthday America!
06 February, 2015
The IDEA of Me A.K.A. He Offered Me His Idea of the World and I Told Him I Had My Own, Right here in Reality.
If you haven’t read the article “Don’t Date a Girl Who Travels,” stop and go read it now. I've read that article at least 100 times since I first discovered it. However, I tend to disagree with the message. All the reasons that the author listed to NOT date a girl who travels, is precisely why men are so INTRIGUED with women who travel. This is my experience:
When I first arrived in Madrid, I was contacted via social media by a “friend of friends”. Someone I knew in passing (who I honestly didn't have a high opinion of when I knew him). Being the kind person I am, I chose to reply to this person rather than ignore the conversation starter. I should have known better. I DO and DID know better.
Back to my point. We ended up having a conversation over Facebook, which carried into Whatsapp, which lasted until right after the holidays (Conveniently enough during the holiday season when things were “slow” for him). While the bulk of the conversation was catching up on life since we last spoke i.e. normal conversation he said a few things that brought me to my current realization:
Very early into the conversation he asked me about Paris (not a fan). I said that my opinion about Paris may change in the future and that I needed “a new memory” of Paris. He then said something I've sadly heard several times from different men throughout my adult life, “We should meet in Paris in the Spring.” That’s when the light bulb went off and it reconfirmed what I've known all along:
This guy doesn't like me, he likes the IDEA of me. I’m spontaneous, adventurous, a risk taker and willing to try anything once. I’m a free spirit who doesn’t stay in one place for too long and I TRAVEL. I’m thousands of miles away, with an ocean in between. I live in a city that is older than the United States. I’ve walked where kings and queens, famous authors, and even Jesus walked. I’ve managed to avoid the traditional roles of women: being married, having kids etc. I am very upfront when in conversation. I don’t have time to candy coat things or to act coy. I don’t have the time for bullshitting. My life is so not “Eat, Pray, Love” but for some reason people like to think it is.
So the IDEA of me, is the fixation. The IDEA of meeting in Paris in the spring sounds like something out of a movie or a piece of literature partly (well mostly) because it’s a fantasy. The reality of the situation would be, that we meet in Paris, I pack the wrong shoes and complain all day about how my feet hurt. It would pour rain the entire time and the lines to see landmarks would be long. We’d get lost, but not the “romantical” kind of lost. Like super frustrated at the other person because it seems neither of us can read a map, we don’t speak French…I could go on, but I’ll digress. Lucky for me, I know better than to put hope in these things.
I’m not real to these men, so they can throw around suggestions like this. It’s like I’m a dumping ground of hopes and dreams. I feel like I should carry a sign saying “Don’t tell me your hopes and dreams, and then do NOTHING about it.”
The farther away I am, the more appealing I seem. I know a guy who travels all around the US and we used to text often. It was basically the same situation. He traveled all over the country, I went out of the country from time to time. He would make all these grandiose suggestions about us meeting somewhere in the middle. The reality of the situation was when we were an hour away from each other, I never heard from him. It’s because I suddenly became real, and I was close by. Reality was interrupting the fantasy (or idea) of us and it freaked him out…again I had been taking every suggestion with a grain of salt. He didn't want me, he was happy with the idea of me, and the “what ifs” that made his life more exciting…
I seem to attract these kind of men. I live an amazing life, but at the end of the day, I’m just like everyone else. There is nothing spectacular about who I am, it’s just the life I lead, and the stories I tell about this nomadic life I lead. But when “shit gets real” these men tend to stick their head in the sand and disappear.
Having moved to Spain I have experienced this first hand. During my undergrad I spent a semester studying at a University in Madrid. I met a handsome Spaniard and we feel in love. It was romantic, passionate, I had never had such a connection with another person ever. When I left to return to the States it was heartbreaking for both of us. I left because I had to return to the states and graduate, not because I wanted to leave him and Spain. For fourteen years we have been in love with the “idea of us.” We were going to move to California and be together. He would call me and I would sit on the phone and sob. Whenever I would make it to Madrid, he was the only person I wanted to see, and I would be devastated for days after our reunions. Now here I am, 14 years later, back in Spain, and in fact living in the same town where he lives (upon his insistence). The idea of me, lasted for 14 years, but now, I’m real. I’m in his town, living here indefinitely. You can see the panic in his eyes at times. He has that “shit just got real” look on his face. Gone is the fantasy and here I am, in the flesh…a reality and he doesn't know how to handle it…and it’s quite obvious.
Because of my lifestyle as a nomad and my addiction to travel, I get dumped on by men like this with their hopes, dreams and aspirations. I read this quote the other day that said, “If you keep telling the same sad, small story, you will keep living the same sad, small life.”
I’m living my dream. Unless you plan on acting on yours…don’t burden me with your fiction.
When I first arrived in Madrid, I was contacted via social media by a “friend of friends”. Someone I knew in passing (who I honestly didn't have a high opinion of when I knew him). Being the kind person I am, I chose to reply to this person rather than ignore the conversation starter. I should have known better. I DO and DID know better.
Back to my point. We ended up having a conversation over Facebook, which carried into Whatsapp, which lasted until right after the holidays (Conveniently enough during the holiday season when things were “slow” for him). While the bulk of the conversation was catching up on life since we last spoke i.e. normal conversation he said a few things that brought me to my current realization:
Very early into the conversation he asked me about Paris (not a fan). I said that my opinion about Paris may change in the future and that I needed “a new memory” of Paris. He then said something I've sadly heard several times from different men throughout my adult life, “We should meet in Paris in the Spring.” That’s when the light bulb went off and it reconfirmed what I've known all along:
This guy doesn't like me, he likes the IDEA of me. I’m spontaneous, adventurous, a risk taker and willing to try anything once. I’m a free spirit who doesn’t stay in one place for too long and I TRAVEL. I’m thousands of miles away, with an ocean in between. I live in a city that is older than the United States. I’ve walked where kings and queens, famous authors, and even Jesus walked. I’ve managed to avoid the traditional roles of women: being married, having kids etc. I am very upfront when in conversation. I don’t have time to candy coat things or to act coy. I don’t have the time for bullshitting. My life is so not “Eat, Pray, Love” but for some reason people like to think it is.
So the IDEA of me, is the fixation. The IDEA of meeting in Paris in the spring sounds like something out of a movie or a piece of literature partly (well mostly) because it’s a fantasy. The reality of the situation would be, that we meet in Paris, I pack the wrong shoes and complain all day about how my feet hurt. It would pour rain the entire time and the lines to see landmarks would be long. We’d get lost, but not the “romantical” kind of lost. Like super frustrated at the other person because it seems neither of us can read a map, we don’t speak French…I could go on, but I’ll digress. Lucky for me, I know better than to put hope in these things.
I’m not real to these men, so they can throw around suggestions like this. It’s like I’m a dumping ground of hopes and dreams. I feel like I should carry a sign saying “Don’t tell me your hopes and dreams, and then do NOTHING about it.”
The farther away I am, the more appealing I seem. I know a guy who travels all around the US and we used to text often. It was basically the same situation. He traveled all over the country, I went out of the country from time to time. He would make all these grandiose suggestions about us meeting somewhere in the middle. The reality of the situation was when we were an hour away from each other, I never heard from him. It’s because I suddenly became real, and I was close by. Reality was interrupting the fantasy (or idea) of us and it freaked him out…again I had been taking every suggestion with a grain of salt. He didn't want me, he was happy with the idea of me, and the “what ifs” that made his life more exciting…
I seem to attract these kind of men. I live an amazing life, but at the end of the day, I’m just like everyone else. There is nothing spectacular about who I am, it’s just the life I lead, and the stories I tell about this nomadic life I lead. But when “shit gets real” these men tend to stick their head in the sand and disappear.
Having moved to Spain I have experienced this first hand. During my undergrad I spent a semester studying at a University in Madrid. I met a handsome Spaniard and we feel in love. It was romantic, passionate, I had never had such a connection with another person ever. When I left to return to the States it was heartbreaking for both of us. I left because I had to return to the states and graduate, not because I wanted to leave him and Spain. For fourteen years we have been in love with the “idea of us.” We were going to move to California and be together. He would call me and I would sit on the phone and sob. Whenever I would make it to Madrid, he was the only person I wanted to see, and I would be devastated for days after our reunions. Now here I am, 14 years later, back in Spain, and in fact living in the same town where he lives (upon his insistence). The idea of me, lasted for 14 years, but now, I’m real. I’m in his town, living here indefinitely. You can see the panic in his eyes at times. He has that “shit just got real” look on his face. Gone is the fantasy and here I am, in the flesh…a reality and he doesn't know how to handle it…and it’s quite obvious.
Because of my lifestyle as a nomad and my addiction to travel, I get dumped on by men like this with their hopes, dreams and aspirations. I read this quote the other day that said, “If you keep telling the same sad, small story, you will keep living the same sad, small life.”
I’m living my dream. Unless you plan on acting on yours…don’t burden me with your fiction.
01 October, 2014
When Did Everyone Around Me Become So Grown Up??
I've always shied away from "grown up" decisions. I have been told time and time again that I "refuse to face reality" and I have a habit of "running away" to start all over again. I absolutely agree with both of those points. It's like that saying "Wild Heart with a Gypsy Soul." That's totally ME. I've always made sure to not be "tied down" or looking for the next great adventure. I don't FEEL like a grown up. When it's been suggested to me to do grown up things like have a mortgage, buy stocks, buy "good" cutlery, I always wince.
Even though I have fought having any resemblance of a grown up life, I've watched while the vast majority of my friends and family have taken what I would call "the express train to grown up land." It still blows my mind that most of my friends are married and have families. They have mortgages, car payments, "good china", crock pots, use coasters, and spend time manicuring their lawns. It's all so unbelievable to me. It seems like just yesterday I was in college with my best friends. We were more than friends, we became family. We spent holidays together, we spent four very formative years together. We thought we were invincible and that we would all plow through life and be nothing less than successful, because we had each other and there was strength in numbers.
It's not the case anymore. Life has moved on, people have moved on, priorities have changed, lines in the sand were drawn and people had to pick sides. Friends betrayed friends. But in the end I guess I can simply look back on it and say " It ran its course." Would I love to have friends who I've known forever, their kids would call me Aunt Amy and all the husbands and wives would be best friends and all live in the same neighborhood? It sounds great, but when I seriously think about it, I would have probably been the one to pack up in the middle of the night and leave. Nothing is that perfect.,,,ever.
I recently had lunch with a childhood friend. We attended both high school and college together, was my neighbor growing up and lived in the same city for many years afterward. He and I are the only ones with no kids, no spouses etc. We had the chance to catch up after not seeing one another for 3 plus years. It's nuts how friendships go from constant contact, to comparing flight schedules to see if a quick meet up is possible. There was a point in conversation when we talked about our old group of friends. Then we just kind of sat there in silence and I said "We're the only ones left, You and I we're it," I guess it makes sense, we were the "adventurers" of our group of friends. We traveled and came home and told stories to everyone else who couldn't imagine going that far out of their comfort zone. When I look back on everything I remember a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson (What is it with me and these Transcendentalists?? Mrs. Keirnan, my high school American Lit teacher would be so proud of me). He said:
“Don’t follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail”
So when I look at how I've tackled life, I haven't followed the "traditional path" of marriage, children, home, etc. I've never been one to go with tradition. More power to those who do, and good for them, I am 36, moving to another country and starting all over in a new city with a new job. I have no idea where my path may lead but I look forward to the trail I will leave.
*Waiting on my visa!!
Even though I have fought having any resemblance of a grown up life, I've watched while the vast majority of my friends and family have taken what I would call "the express train to grown up land." It still blows my mind that most of my friends are married and have families. They have mortgages, car payments, "good china", crock pots, use coasters, and spend time manicuring their lawns. It's all so unbelievable to me. It seems like just yesterday I was in college with my best friends. We were more than friends, we became family. We spent holidays together, we spent four very formative years together. We thought we were invincible and that we would all plow through life and be nothing less than successful, because we had each other and there was strength in numbers.
It's not the case anymore. Life has moved on, people have moved on, priorities have changed, lines in the sand were drawn and people had to pick sides. Friends betrayed friends. But in the end I guess I can simply look back on it and say " It ran its course." Would I love to have friends who I've known forever, their kids would call me Aunt Amy and all the husbands and wives would be best friends and all live in the same neighborhood? It sounds great, but when I seriously think about it, I would have probably been the one to pack up in the middle of the night and leave. Nothing is that perfect.,,,ever.
I recently had lunch with a childhood friend. We attended both high school and college together, was my neighbor growing up and lived in the same city for many years afterward. He and I are the only ones with no kids, no spouses etc. We had the chance to catch up after not seeing one another for 3 plus years. It's nuts how friendships go from constant contact, to comparing flight schedules to see if a quick meet up is possible. There was a point in conversation when we talked about our old group of friends. Then we just kind of sat there in silence and I said "We're the only ones left, You and I we're it," I guess it makes sense, we were the "adventurers" of our group of friends. We traveled and came home and told stories to everyone else who couldn't imagine going that far out of their comfort zone. When I look back on everything I remember a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson (What is it with me and these Transcendentalists?? Mrs. Keirnan, my high school American Lit teacher would be so proud of me). He said:
“Don’t follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail”
So when I look at how I've tackled life, I haven't followed the "traditional path" of marriage, children, home, etc. I've never been one to go with tradition. More power to those who do, and good for them, I am 36, moving to another country and starting all over in a new city with a new job. I have no idea where my path may lead but I look forward to the trail I will leave.
*Waiting on my visa!!
15 September, 2014
The Proverbial Wake Up Call
A lot of people who make major changes in their lives say that they had a "realization" that life is too short not to do what makes you happy. I get that. Since I first left the country at age 15, I haven't stopped traveling. Granted, there might be time lags in between trips, but I seem to always be planning on my next great adventure, or adding to my Bucket List.
I also had the "proverbial slap in the face" where I realized I needed to do something for ME. I thought I'd share my experience which, I'm sure, will be able to relate.
I've been a high school teacher for 13 years. It's crazy, I've never done anything for 13 years straight except live. The closest thing I can think of that I have retained for 13 years is my mobile phone contract with Verizon. But if there is one thing I do, and I do well it's teach. I'm not tooting my own horn either. I have put my life into my career, and worked hard to be where I am today. And I'm good at what I do...or I wouldn't have lasted this long.
I started teaching young so 13 years later, a good number of my former students I can now call "friends." One of my closest friends started out as a 16 year old junior in my Spanish III class my second year teaching, when I was a mere 22 years old.
I've had thousands of students and they have all made me the teacher I am today, mostly for the better. Within this time I have experienced the great successes of my students, and also mourned the loss of some awesome kids, parents, co-workers etc.
During my last 2 years of teaching (which just ended last spring) I became familiar with a student in my study hall. Hannah had great energy, a positive attitude and she was just the "pick me up" I needed mid day when all I wanted to do is either cry, or punt a student down the hallway. She would sit right next to my desk and talk to me about bands, and concerts. As time went on, the conversation turned to boys and the regular teenage angst. Hannah reminded me a lot of myself and I began to look forward to study hall, even more so when she would pass me in the hall in the morning and say, "ohhh Ms. Neal, you wait until PAWS (study hall) have I got a story for you!" Toward the end of Hannah's freshman year she informed me that she signed up for Spanish for her sophomore year because she still wanted to see me every day. Granted, not a great reason for taking the class, but I was happy about it.
As a sophomore in a freshman class, Hannah came into my class like a flash of lightening. She had a year of French under her belt which made learning Spanish that much easier for her. She was vibrant in class, a great participator and she offered her help to others who were struggling. Sometimes Hannah would have lunch with me in my classroom, but usually she would drop off her books, give me the "scoop" about what was going on and then go have lunch with her friends.
Like I mentioned above, I've had students that have just "connected" with me, and because of that, we developed a pretty neat student/teacher relationship and sometimes, after they had graduated and started their lives...they became my friends. With the advancements in technology and computers being used more and more as a primary tool in the classroom, teachers and students alike miss out on having those interactions with each other and between the teacher and the student. Those kids who go out of their way to tell me about themselves, let me see the other side of them outside the classroom are the kids that I enjoy the most and retain some kind of communication with, when they leave high school, move etc. Hannah was one of those students.
In the fall, Hannah started coming in to my classroom mentioning her sciatica was acting up and it hurt to walk. This went on for about a week until I convinced her to go to guidance for permission to use the elevator, which she did.
Before I realized it, I was being called into the office, along with a hand full of other teachers. It was October and I'll never forget, the guidance counselor broke down into tears and said " Hannah has cancer." She had a tumor on her side and that's where the pain was coming from. I was in shock.
Hannah was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a bone cancer that mainly affects children. It was a tough pill to swallow. The students got wind of it and were absolutely devastated. No child should have to come face to face with their own mortality. I found myself being what I call "that person" for the students. I dispelled rumors (I was familiar with her mother and in time we became friends), did my research on the disease and educated the kids on it, I advised students who did fundraisers to help out. I kept in touch with Hannah. Throughout the entire school year we communicated by e mail, text, facebook etc. She never ever lost that positive spirit. When she lost all her hair from Chemo she said to me "My mom would never let me dye my hair blue...but now I can just wear a blue wig!" She lost a lot of weight and would joke about becoming a supermodel and walking the runway. I was in awe of her upbeat attitude and her "I can beat this" mindset.
We had our scares during the school year. Prom weekend, we almost lost her. She begged to not have any students know about her condition because she didn't want to take the focus off prom that night. Again...simply amazing. She rebounded and that same weekend, she took off for Hawaii for a family vacation through Make a Wish. I was so excited to read FB posts, see pictures of her swimming with dolphins, laughing and enjoying life. It seemed like she was getting better!
Shortly after her vacation, things took a change for Hannah. We were all sure she'd bounce back, I mean she had done it several times during the school year. On the 29th of May I was called by a parent close to Hannah's mom and told that Hannah was in hospice and it "wouldn't be long". I had this internal struggle, "Should I go see her, let her know I love her and that I think she is SO brave and such an inspiration, Or should I just let her be with her family." I went and saw Hannah that night. She was so tiny and fragile. She had a machine to help her breath. I mentally prepared myself NOT to cry, then went in. She was happy to see me, told me about her trip to Hawaii. It was so hard to keep myself composed. I gave her a hug, told her I loved her and told her to send me a text. She asked me to come back Friday and bring her a school lunch (" The food here is shit" she told me). I promised, and then went home.
Hannah died the next day. I received the call at 1:20 on May 31st. It was so hard to keep it together until another teacher came to relieve me so I could have a moment. The kids were hysterical. They didn't understand, and quite frankly I couldn't seem to understand it either.
The next few days were crazy. Crying about the loss of a great person, laughing about the memories of her. My role as "that person" for my students was more necessary than ever. Students stopped by my house (school was out), clung to me at the funeral and calling hours. They were looking to me as a source of strength when, inside, I was absolutely broken. It took all my mental strength to be strong for those kids.
When things like the death of a child happen I feel like it makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable...those people on the "outside." I realized that with Hannah's death. I had recently stopped seeing someone who was well aware of the situation and how it affected me. I never heard anything from him throughout the entire week of her death, funeral etc. Makes you wake up and realize the quality of people around. At the same time, I was touched to see people who never met Hannah reaching out to her mother and family. I met someone at the candlelight vigil the night Hannah passed who came up to hug me and said he'd never met Hannah, but he knew her story and she inspired him. He said "I can honestly say I wouldn't be alive today, if I hadn't know of her and how she tackled life."
In the aftermath of everything, I still felt broken and angry. It wasn't fair. She was such a great kid. It made me question every aspect of my life. I questioned my faith in God. I mean, how could God let this happen? Did all those prayers fall on deaf ears? I had planned my "professional development vacation" to Madrid before Hannah got sick and it was a constant topic of conversation between us when we spoke. She was excited for me to go to "my happy place"and told me one day she'd make it to Spain,
During my time there, Hannah's 16th birthday came and went. It was a tough day. Every day is a tough day. I miss her terribly. I can't even imagine how her mother feels seeing all her friends have their teen rites of passage like getting their drivers license, going to prom, 1st day of school.
Some people might think that Hannah's death inspired my big life change but that isn't it. It was Hannah's LIFE that inspired me. She lived life!! When I think of Hannah and her mission to live life to the fullest, I am reminded of my most favorite quote by Henry David Thoreau:
I also had the "proverbial slap in the face" where I realized I needed to do something for ME. I thought I'd share my experience which, I'm sure, will be able to relate.
I've been a high school teacher for 13 years. It's crazy, I've never done anything for 13 years straight except live. The closest thing I can think of that I have retained for 13 years is my mobile phone contract with Verizon. But if there is one thing I do, and I do well it's teach. I'm not tooting my own horn either. I have put my life into my career, and worked hard to be where I am today. And I'm good at what I do...or I wouldn't have lasted this long.
I started teaching young so 13 years later, a good number of my former students I can now call "friends." One of my closest friends started out as a 16 year old junior in my Spanish III class my second year teaching, when I was a mere 22 years old.
I've had thousands of students and they have all made me the teacher I am today, mostly for the better. Within this time I have experienced the great successes of my students, and also mourned the loss of some awesome kids, parents, co-workers etc.
During my last 2 years of teaching (which just ended last spring) I became familiar with a student in my study hall. Hannah had great energy, a positive attitude and she was just the "pick me up" I needed mid day when all I wanted to do is either cry, or punt a student down the hallway. She would sit right next to my desk and talk to me about bands, and concerts. As time went on, the conversation turned to boys and the regular teenage angst. Hannah reminded me a lot of myself and I began to look forward to study hall, even more so when she would pass me in the hall in the morning and say, "ohhh Ms. Neal, you wait until PAWS (study hall) have I got a story for you!" Toward the end of Hannah's freshman year she informed me that she signed up for Spanish for her sophomore year because she still wanted to see me every day. Granted, not a great reason for taking the class, but I was happy about it.
As a sophomore in a freshman class, Hannah came into my class like a flash of lightening. She had a year of French under her belt which made learning Spanish that much easier for her. She was vibrant in class, a great participator and she offered her help to others who were struggling. Sometimes Hannah would have lunch with me in my classroom, but usually she would drop off her books, give me the "scoop" about what was going on and then go have lunch with her friends.
Like I mentioned above, I've had students that have just "connected" with me, and because of that, we developed a pretty neat student/teacher relationship and sometimes, after they had graduated and started their lives...they became my friends. With the advancements in technology and computers being used more and more as a primary tool in the classroom, teachers and students alike miss out on having those interactions with each other and between the teacher and the student. Those kids who go out of their way to tell me about themselves, let me see the other side of them outside the classroom are the kids that I enjoy the most and retain some kind of communication with, when they leave high school, move etc. Hannah was one of those students.
In the fall, Hannah started coming in to my classroom mentioning her sciatica was acting up and it hurt to walk. This went on for about a week until I convinced her to go to guidance for permission to use the elevator, which she did.
Before I realized it, I was being called into the office, along with a hand full of other teachers. It was October and I'll never forget, the guidance counselor broke down into tears and said " Hannah has cancer." She had a tumor on her side and that's where the pain was coming from. I was in shock.
Hannah was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a bone cancer that mainly affects children. It was a tough pill to swallow. The students got wind of it and were absolutely devastated. No child should have to come face to face with their own mortality. I found myself being what I call "that person" for the students. I dispelled rumors (I was familiar with her mother and in time we became friends), did my research on the disease and educated the kids on it, I advised students who did fundraisers to help out. I kept in touch with Hannah. Throughout the entire school year we communicated by e mail, text, facebook etc. She never ever lost that positive spirit. When she lost all her hair from Chemo she said to me "My mom would never let me dye my hair blue...but now I can just wear a blue wig!" She lost a lot of weight and would joke about becoming a supermodel and walking the runway. I was in awe of her upbeat attitude and her "I can beat this" mindset.
We had our scares during the school year. Prom weekend, we almost lost her. She begged to not have any students know about her condition because she didn't want to take the focus off prom that night. Again...simply amazing. She rebounded and that same weekend, she took off for Hawaii for a family vacation through Make a Wish. I was so excited to read FB posts, see pictures of her swimming with dolphins, laughing and enjoying life. It seemed like she was getting better!
Shortly after her vacation, things took a change for Hannah. We were all sure she'd bounce back, I mean she had done it several times during the school year. On the 29th of May I was called by a parent close to Hannah's mom and told that Hannah was in hospice and it "wouldn't be long". I had this internal struggle, "Should I go see her, let her know I love her and that I think she is SO brave and such an inspiration, Or should I just let her be with her family." I went and saw Hannah that night. She was so tiny and fragile. She had a machine to help her breath. I mentally prepared myself NOT to cry, then went in. She was happy to see me, told me about her trip to Hawaii. It was so hard to keep myself composed. I gave her a hug, told her I loved her and told her to send me a text. She asked me to come back Friday and bring her a school lunch (" The food here is shit" she told me). I promised, and then went home.
Hannah died the next day. I received the call at 1:20 on May 31st. It was so hard to keep it together until another teacher came to relieve me so I could have a moment. The kids were hysterical. They didn't understand, and quite frankly I couldn't seem to understand it either.
The next few days were crazy. Crying about the loss of a great person, laughing about the memories of her. My role as "that person" for my students was more necessary than ever. Students stopped by my house (school was out), clung to me at the funeral and calling hours. They were looking to me as a source of strength when, inside, I was absolutely broken. It took all my mental strength to be strong for those kids.
When things like the death of a child happen I feel like it makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable...those people on the "outside." I realized that with Hannah's death. I had recently stopped seeing someone who was well aware of the situation and how it affected me. I never heard anything from him throughout the entire week of her death, funeral etc. Makes you wake up and realize the quality of people around. At the same time, I was touched to see people who never met Hannah reaching out to her mother and family. I met someone at the candlelight vigil the night Hannah passed who came up to hug me and said he'd never met Hannah, but he knew her story and she inspired him. He said "I can honestly say I wouldn't be alive today, if I hadn't know of her and how she tackled life."
In the aftermath of everything, I still felt broken and angry. It wasn't fair. She was such a great kid. It made me question every aspect of my life. I questioned my faith in God. I mean, how could God let this happen? Did all those prayers fall on deaf ears? I had planned my "professional development vacation" to Madrid before Hannah got sick and it was a constant topic of conversation between us when we spoke. She was excited for me to go to "my happy place"and told me one day she'd make it to Spain,
During my time there, Hannah's 16th birthday came and went. It was a tough day. Every day is a tough day. I miss her terribly. I can't even imagine how her mother feels seeing all her friends have their teen rites of passage like getting their drivers license, going to prom, 1st day of school.
Some people might think that Hannah's death inspired my big life change but that isn't it. It was Hannah's LIFE that inspired me. She lived life!! When I think of Hannah and her mission to live life to the fullest, I am reminded of my most favorite quote by Henry David Thoreau:
..I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”
Hannah wasn't my first student to die, but she was the first I witnessed suffer and it tore my heart out. But still Hannah inspired me, and was a constant reminder (and still is) that you only have one life, so live deep! So with that in mind, here I am, getting ready to embark on a crazy life change, because I want to "live deliberately..and "suck the marrow out of life." Hannah will always be with me in spirit. She changed my life..she changed me and I am so thankful.07 August, 2014
Taking the Jump
My love affair with Spain began in the Fall of 2000 when I spent fall semester studying at Universidad de Alcalá de Henares. Fourteen years later, I am just as enamored with the country as I was back then. I was supposed to be a Spaniard, I just feel it in my bones. If I believed in past lives, I would claim to have been Spaniard in another life.
Every time my finances allow, I book a flight to Madrid. I call it my "Happy Place". My soul is at peace when I am there. So this past summer, when the opportunity arose to spend the summer in Madrid, I booked a flight and rented a flat. I decided to take classes toward my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) cert. The program offered a student visa so I could stay there for an entire year, working in the field which I would become certified. Being the responsible adult I am (or claim to be rather) I figured I would take the class, have an awesome summer in my most favorite place in the world, and return home to "real life." I should have known better. The city that I love, sucked me in once again.
The actualization that I could actually live my dream and move to Spain suddenly became a reality, This was confirmed even more when I spoke with Spanish friends, and my TEFL instructors. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I could actually do it. So I called the principal of my school, resigned from my teaching position, informed my friends and family of my plan and haven't looked back.
So here I am, in the process of packing up the past 14 years of my life, packing a few suitcases and the dogs and I'm moving to Spain. Did I mention I don'have a job or a place to live yet? The majority of my family thinks I'm crazy. But despite all the unknown, I'm absolutely calm and cool about this huge change that's about to take place in my life. It's like it's the next logical step in my life. It's the only thing that seems to make sense in my crazy life.
I try to keep journals, but it usually doesn't happen. I've kept an education blog for a few years now (that's right students, I've been talking about you for years) so I figured I'd continue my adventures here. This is more for me than anyone else, but if you want to read it, go for it.
Ready, set, go.....
Every time my finances allow, I book a flight to Madrid. I call it my "Happy Place". My soul is at peace when I am there. So this past summer, when the opportunity arose to spend the summer in Madrid, I booked a flight and rented a flat. I decided to take classes toward my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) cert. The program offered a student visa so I could stay there for an entire year, working in the field which I would become certified. Being the responsible adult I am (or claim to be rather) I figured I would take the class, have an awesome summer in my most favorite place in the world, and return home to "real life." I should have known better. The city that I love, sucked me in once again.
The actualization that I could actually live my dream and move to Spain suddenly became a reality, This was confirmed even more when I spoke with Spanish friends, and my TEFL instructors. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I could actually do it. So I called the principal of my school, resigned from my teaching position, informed my friends and family of my plan and haven't looked back.
So here I am, in the process of packing up the past 14 years of my life, packing a few suitcases and the dogs and I'm moving to Spain. Did I mention I don'have a job or a place to live yet? The majority of my family thinks I'm crazy. But despite all the unknown, I'm absolutely calm and cool about this huge change that's about to take place in my life. It's like it's the next logical step in my life. It's the only thing that seems to make sense in my crazy life.
I try to keep journals, but it usually doesn't happen. I've kept an education blog for a few years now (that's right students, I've been talking about you for years) so I figured I'd continue my adventures here. This is more for me than anyone else, but if you want to read it, go for it.
Ready, set, go.....
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