International School Teacher Blues

There is something very special about the International School sector. It goes beyond a globally minded curriculum, which is a big highlight in of itself. But for me, the biggest perk is the people I work with. We're from every corner of the globe. My closest work friends, a group who call ourselves 1D, not because of the band but because of our office number, are from Argentina, England (with a Kurdish/Jordanian background), Romania and South Africa. 

This group, without me having to explain, get what it feels like to be Other. They get what it feels like to be new somewhere, to stick out (whether self-imposed or not), to have a yearning to be everywhere. This is a concept that most people don't quite understand and, sometimes, don't appreciate. But with my international school friends, it's something we lean into. It's something we celebrate. 

And it's also something we sometimes commiserate about. The last two weeks most of us have lived in a state of Covid-limbo. Roughly 70% of the staff at my school are nationals of other countries. We have families, houses, parents abroad. With travel restrictions recently largely reduced worldwide, we have clung onto hope that we might make it home to see these pieces of who we are. 

Omicron has had other ideas. 

Cases surge in the UK and the government gives the delightfully vague advice of 'we suggest you take caution but we're not going to suggest that you should cancel Christmas parties or stop going out. It must be an individual choice because we live in a 'free' society and you can make your own stupid f-ing choices about how to live your life. But you might want to wear a mask if you feel like it could be the right thing to do. Plus, are we even allowed to advise when we've just been caught having Christmas parties last year when the restrictions said NO parties whatsoever?' I'll spare you the lesson on modal verbs and loaded language. If you know me you can hear my tone.

Meanwhile, covid cases at school continued to rise. Parents started voting with their feet again, pulling their children out of school in order to ensure they could be covid-safe. Teachers didn't have this opportunity. 

My South African colleagues had their flights cancelled when the UK briefly closed its border to Southern Africa. Three weeks later, and three days ago, the border opened again. From going to cancelled to going again, my friends have ridden the adrenaline roller coaster that is travel in Covid times. 

Yesterday evening, I received a text message from one of my American colleagues--she's going home with her family, including three children. Her flight is today and it was unclear about whether she would be. Three weeks ago, the US introduced a 24-hour window to receive a negative covid test. This is complicated for so many reasons: surging omicron cases in schools (ours, her children's), expenses, logistics, cancellation fees, hopes, dreams, expectations to name a few. 

And now, after skipping out on after-work parties and events for the last two weeks, Paul and I wait in a similar limbo. We *might* fly tomorrow IF our Covid tests that we're taking in an hour come back negative. We haven't packed, Christmas shopped, told anyone at home beyond my family that we might be going. 

With that in mind my friends, international school and otherwise, continue to send messages of support. They get it. We're in it together in this strange pandemic but let's pretend like we're not in a pandemic teaching world. Despite the shit that continues to be 2021, this is one of the things that keeps me going. Little slices of gratitude keep me going.