Discoveries from my first week in the UK

1. "Pants" in American means "underwear" in British.  All the years I've come over here, and I never knew that.

2. It's apparently unusual for people to move to the UK without being transferred by their company, posted by the military, or married.  The look of surprise everyone gives me when I tell them I'm here because I want to be here gives it away.

3. My credit rating does not exist anymore.  The UK doesn't check anything I did in the USA.

4. I cannot get a cell phone plan until I have a bank card.

5. Unlike US banks that give you a temporary debit card for immediate use after opening an account, UK banks make you wait about a week before you get it.

6. UK bank cards have a chip instead of a magnetic strip (I already knew that), and they also come with a pocket sized machine to be kept at home.  That machine generates a new code (that is not your PIN) every time you insert the card.  Both my pin and that temporary code are needed to log into online banking.  The temporary code is invalid after a few minutes.

7. UK bank machines can either dispense cash or they can accept deposits.  They cannot do both.

8. UK post codes are hyper-specific.  It's like having a zip code for every block.  Sometimes a single building will have a post code all its own.

9. The original Office has Martin Freeman.  And it's really damn funny.

10.  A Chorus Line is an amazing musical.

11.  Sometimes, when you buy the cheapest ticket way in the back, you get randomly changed to an awesome seat in the 5th row upon arrival.

12. London has a overabundance of beautiful women.

13. My school schedule is quite complex.  Every single day is different in a two week cycle.  I need a planner as much as the kids do.

14. Every student and parent at my school is assigned a school email, and it's integrated into my gradebook.  Efficiency!

15. There are an incredible variety of Doritos in the store.  However, the flavors are all different than the US, and the colors don't match what I expect from back home.  First world problems.

16.  There is free wifi everywhere, but to use it, they must text me a code.  That doesn't help when I don't have a working phone yet.

17. Coke cans have "Share with" and someone's name printed on them.  The names are all different.  People go sorting through cans to find names they like or know.  It really slows things up.

18. There is absolutely nothing at the cinema I have any desire to see.  This is the worst summer selection of movies I can remember.

Why I became a teacher

I’ve thought for years that, though I love my career immensely, perhaps I should contemplate something else as so many have told me throughout the years.  Teaching is not a career afforded much respect as an intellectual endeavor, at least in my experience.  I never blew anyone away as a wunderkind, but I graduated fairly high amongst my small class in high school, and I remember being asked several times why I wasn’t pursuing law or medicine.  I chose to attend a local state university (IUP), partially because of the cost, but mostly because I felt right at home on campus. I have had to answer questions about why I didn’t attend a school with a bigger name, and I sometimes ask myself that same question despite how happy I was there.  I was accepted into the Honors College at IUP, which afforded me many opportunities to expand my horizons intellectually, including two chances to study abroad in Cambridge and Vienna.  The director of the Honors College wanted me to change my major to philosophy (I did minor in it) and apply for a Rhodes or Fulbright scholarship.  I have since wondered just how I might have used these graduate scholarships to become a better teacher, but the impression I was given was that I should change my major in order to seek any kind of intellectual glory.  Every level of my studies involved teachers and professors trying to convince me that becoming a teacher would be shortchanging myself.  All I ever thought was that teaching was what I loved and what I was good at.  I still think that, albeit with a nagging doubt as to whether everyone was right about me holding myself back from bigger and better things. 

So, I thought I might share my personal epiphany.  I enjoy telling the story of what turned me toward teaching, anyway.

When I was 15 years old, I was in 10^th grade, and I got kicked out of class for the very first time.  I sincerely loved school, at least academically, and I was a talkative yet well-behaved young man.  The first trait was what got me in trouble, though.  During computer class, we’re usually playing Oregon Trail on our Apple IIe’s and powermacs.  However, Wo (yep, that's what we called him), a teacher that very rarely taught formal lessons, decided to give it a go this particular day and walk us through programming in BASIC.  I got in trouble in the first 5 minutes for talking too much, then in the next 5 minutes for laughing too much.  Before 10 minutes had gone by in the class, I was sent out of the room.  But, instead of sending me to the office, Wo sent me to the adjacent room where Mr. O (yep) was teaching an algebra II class.  I was told to sit in the back of the room and be quiet.  Mr. O actually did a lot of teaching from the board, and he liked to use the classic method of writing down problems on the board and asking a brave soul to go solve them.  Math came relatively easily to me, and as it happened, I tutored several of the students in this particular class.  One in particular, David, was sitting right in front of me at the moment.  I had shown David during lunch how to solve the problems Mr. O was writing on the board, so I encouraged him to go show his stuff at the board.  David was not that eager, so I continued to badger him.  Apparently, I was much louder than I’d thought, because Mr. O stood above me with a very stern look on his face.  I thought, “Oh my goodness, twice in one period?  I’m toast.”  Mr. O said in a rather accusatory way, “Mr. Schneider, would you like to teach this class for me?”  I shook my head, said I was sorry, and promised to be quiet.  Mr. O handed me the chalk and told me to get to the board.  So, I did.  I knew how to do the problem fine, so I solved it, explained to the class what I was doing, and put the chalk down.  Mr. O decided to give me another problem, one that I’d never seen before.  I think he was trying to stump me, but I was fairly confident I could solve it, so I got to work.  The amazing thing is that the rest of the class wasn’t snickering at me, they were writing down the problem and taking notes like I was the legitimate teacher.  I continued explaining what I was doing in each step, and even had to backtrack once or twice when something I tried didn’t work, but I successfully solved it.  Mr. O continued giving me new and unique problems, and I continued working through them with the class, even answering questions from students throughout the process.  This went on for 20 minutes or so. Near the end of class, a student in the back commented, “Mr. O, why don’t you teach like that?  I understood this.”  At that moment, I truly thought I was a goner.  Instead, when the bell rang at the end of class, Mr. O simply took the chalk.  From that moment on, I knew I could be a teacher.  I’m not sure I knew I would be a teacher, or if so, what I would teach, but I knew it was fun.  That comment, “Mr. O, why don’t you teach like that?” has stuck with me longer than the name of the student who said it.  

What I did with my stuff

“All your house is is a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff”—George Carlin

I envy Abby Schiavello for her ability to pack all her belongings into a few large suitcases before moving abroad.  I was not able to do that.  I had accumulated far too much stuff.  I never liked moving, but I always assumed I could successfully move my stuff from point A to point B.  Theoretically, it’s possible for me to move all my belongings overseas, but it’s extremely expensive.  Most quotes I got on this from moving companies like Mayflower started at $2500 or $3000.  Of course, I also don’t have a place to keep all that stuff in the UK.  I am living in a small studio, basically a dorm room with private bathroom, at King’s Ely.  So, I needed to whittle down my belongings to the most important, most shippable, and most difficult to replace.  A Google search brought me to homeshipping.com, and it gave me a good set of guidelines for how much I could easily ship.  They use Home Depot’s boxes as their standard sizes: small 12” cube, medium 18” cube, and large 18” x 18” x 24”.  There are several combinations (20 small boxes or 10 medium boxes or 3 large boxes and 5 medium boxes, etc.) that can be shipped at a standard rate of about $400.  I already had lots of boxes, as I kept all the boxes from the last move 3 years ago.  I also kept the boxes of any electronics I have bought since then.  So, I ended up choosing 6 large boxes and two medium boxes.  Anything more than that, and the cost would essentially quadruple.  So, I needed a smaller version of my stuff.  Essentially, it means my entire wardrobe, 3 coats, my computer system, and assorted sentimental items. 

Though homeshipping.com gave me good specs from which to start, I didn’t ultimately use them.  They could come pick up my boxes from my house for about $200, but to deliver them to Ely, it was an extra $800.  So, I discovered uship.com, which is essentially an online version of shipping wars.  I put up a description of my shipment, where I wanted it to go, and what time frame I was looking for.  From there, companies bid on the right to ship my stuff.  Most were based in the USA and had the same problem as homeshipping.com when it came to delivery on the other end.  I found one company, EB Cargo, that was based in the UK.  If I could get the boxes to Baltimore myself, they could get them on a ship and deliver them directly to the school in Ely for about $600 all in.  I read lots of reviews on them, and I decided they were worth a shot.  Lucky for me, I have an amazing friend in Billy Sammons, who was willing to help me load my boxes on his truck, and haul them to Baltimore.  As I write, they are on the ocean.  Hopefully, I will write again later about how they came through safe and sound. 

So, what do I do with everything I couldn’t ship?  Store it, sell it, or donate it?  Well, let’s store it, because who knows if this will all work out?  Storage costs money, though.  Again, I found out just how wonderful the people are around me.  Jeff offered me free use of his warehouse.  He would hold onto the stuff for a year, and if I don’t return, he’ll sell it and split the proceeds.  In addition, he’d help me on moving day, as would Eric.  These are just wonderful people.  Carey and Jimmy joined me along with Billy (I’ve never had a day of need that Billy didn’t help out with).  Let me just say this, though, Jimmy needs to be involved in all my future moves.  The man counts as a crew of at least 4 or 5.  Anyone who shows up on moving day is a true friend, I find.

I also got to discover the joy of giving away anything I thought might help a friend.  My parents have always loved my TV, so there you go.  Tommy and Colleen needed a GPS, so there you go.  Carey needed a queen size bed for her new house, so there you go.  While helping move my lamps, Carey asked, “Should I take out the light bulbs and store them separately?”  I responded, “Take them out and take them with you.  They’re energy efficient, and they won’t do any good in storage.”  I absolutely loved the look on people’s faces when I gave them stuff.  While talking to Tommy on the phone, I was struck by a thought and said, “By the way, do you want my surround sound system?”  He said, “Ummm, yes.”  It made me understand just a little bit why people occasionally give away all their Earthly possessions.  It feels awesome. 

Lastly, my car.  I am so torn about my car.  I love that Sentra and the MAKITSO license plate.  I drove that puppy from Annapolis to Seattle to LA and back.  I also had to replace the alternator a week and a half before I left the USA, but at 200,000 miles these things happen.  I am looking very forward to being able to live without a car in Ely, but I wasn’t able to fully part from my Nissan just yet.  I gave it to my parents to hold onto for a year.  To cancel the insurance, I have to turn in the license plates to the MVA, and that does make me sad.  If everything falls flat in a year, I can return to Calvert County (I took a leave of absence instead of resigning, just in case), still have my car, and still have most of my stuff.  No reason to jump without a parachute, after all.

The moral of the story is, if you want to move overseas, don’t expect to take much stuff with you.  And if you’re not using your stuff now, give it away.  It feels freaking awesome.

The freedom to say yes

My favorite part of moving to England so far is the simple fact that I’m able to do this at all.  No matter how well this works out in the end, it’s making me feel better about all the life choices I’ve made up to this point.  It’s generally easy for me to look at other people and see everything they have that I don’t.  Does this happen to you, too?  It takes effort to look at my own life and appreciate just how lucky I am to have my life.  This is one of those times that it doesn’t feel so difficult.  I am lucky.  My life rocks.  

Firstly, I’m educated.  Thank you, mom and dad, for that.  They remind me over and over that they support me in whatever I do, and all they want is for me to be able to have choices in life they never had.  They never got to earn a living doing what they loved.  They did what they had to do, and got to be with the people they loved as a result, which is not a bad bargain.  But they wanted Tommy and me to go to college (an unusual choice among our extended family members) so we could have that freedom to pursue what we love.  They were so right.  Tommy is the engineer.  I am the teacher.  We both love what we do, and we both have had the freedom to change employers when necessary.  Even the British government considers me a “skilled worker,” which is why I could get a visa at all.  Education gives you options, pure and simple.

Also, I’m single. Being single is good. I am not against dating or marriage, but it’s not a life goal, either.  I have a hard time answering “Don’t you want to get married?” in a way people understand.  I have never met anyone I’ve wanted to marry.  If I do ever marry, I hope it will be to a woman that wants to marry me as much as I want to marry her.  I have no idea if I’ll ever meet someone like that, much less if I’ll meet them at the right time, and I certainly have no control over it, so why lament it?  Being single is fine.  I get privacy.  I get to travel when I want where I want.  I got to do crazy amounts of theater stuff and general MHC craziness just because I think it's fun.  When I find myself in conversation, I get to enjoy it as long as it will go without checking in with anyone.  One of the best things about being single is that I was free to consider the offer from King’s Ely based solely on what I wanted.  If I were married, I wouldn’t be moving overseas.  And I’d be living a happy life then, as well. 

I don’t own a house.  I love not owning a house.  I don’t have to mow grass.  I don’t have to fix anything.  When a job offer comes from overseas, I didn’t have to worry about selling anything.  I almost bought a house 6 years ago, right before everything went bad.  I didn't.  I lucked out there.  Then again, I never agreed with the logic of seeing a house as an investment, either.  I see a house as a secure place to live until you die.  If I get married and have kids, I will want to buy a house. If I owned a house, I would likely not be moving to England, nor would I have had the money, most likely, to travel as I have been every summer.  I’d have felt stuck.  I would not have been happy.  If I did buy a house, though, it would have been through Billy Sammons.  That much, I know.  Heck, if I buy in England, I'm taking him on international House Hunters with me.

I am very nearly debt free.  This is a wonderful feeling.  Debt limits options.  When I graduated from IUP, I had about $15,000 in educational debt and about $12,000 in credit card debt.  Plus, I bought a new car, which put me about $14,000 in debt for that.  I won’t feel bad about college debt, as that was an investment in my future happiness.  The others were my own short-sighted fault.  My Master’s degree added another $15,000 to my load.  It took a long while, and a little help from mom & dad, but I got out.  I have resisted upgrading cars from the Enterprise-A to the Enterprise-B.  I haven’t used a credit card in a decade.  I maxed out my payments on my student loans and will be done with them in a year and a half.  Less debt means more options of what I can do.  It means I could afford to take a bit of a pay cut in order to pursue this particular dream of mine.  Folks, avoid debt as much as you can.  Your life options will multiply.

Also, I have a great life is that I love what I do for a living.  Not everyone gets to have that.  Neither of my parents did. I won’t say “I can’t imagine doing anything else,” because I consider the idea of there being only one career I could love as unlikely as there being only one person I could love.  But I am very lucky to love what I do for a living.  It means I knew exactly what to look for when job hunting in England.  It means that, though I’m leaving a lot behind in the USA, I will still have the career I love. 

I was offered a great job in another country, and I was able to just shake hands and say yes. Life is good.

A good hand shake

I am sitting in BWI, waiting for the first leg of my flight that will take me away from the USA.  Soon, I will be an immigrant.  Here is how it happened:

In 1997, I studied for 6 weeks in Cambridge and, though I loved the experience, I thought I would never return.  In 2007, I visited London for a week by myself and fell in love with the town.  In 2008, I returned to London briefly before exploring Central Europe, and I realized that I felt right at home.  In 2009, I explored much more of Great Britain, and I was hit by a serious desire to move there.  In 2012, I met Alom Shaha and Ronan McDonald, crashed their party for their A level students, and I discovered aspects of the UK school system that made me want to join it and learn from it.  I admitted to my friends and family that, if I ever became dissatisfied with my job at NHS, I would try to move to England.  Nowhere else interested me as much.  Nowhere else felt like home.  Perhaps I'll elaborate on that later.  For me, "stay at NHS" and "move to England" were the only two choices I wanted to pursue.

In July 2011, I got a new boss.  I tried everything I could to develop a working relationship with her, but to no avail.  Perhaps I'll elaborate on that later.  By February 2013, I realized it was time to seriously evaluate my options.  Alom pointed me toward www.tes.co.uk, where I could find job postings in the UK. I decided to fill out a few applications, perhaps 15-20.  I got no responses. Not a single one.  But, I did start to see what was available, and it helped me get my resume up to date.  Plus, filling out applications calmed me down a bit.  So, I filled out a few more.  This time, I got a response from the King Alfred School.  They were willing to interview over Skype, which I was afraid no one would be willing to do.  The interview went very well.  The school looked incredibly interesting.  It was a private school (they call them independent schools in the UK), it emphasized informality (students calling teachers by their first names would take some getting used to), and it was right in London.  I thought I was in.  Alas, I didn't get the job.  They told me it was a close vote, but they had to go with the candidate that was already in the UK.  Fair enough.  I was disappointed and invigorated at the same time.  This wouldn't be easy, but moving to the UK now seemed like an attainable goal.  I started filling out applications everyday.  It took 25 applications before I got my first interview, and it took another 40 before I got a second.  I was actually offered a job at an inner city public school near Wembley stadium.  I turned it down.  Wrong school, wrong salary, wrong situation.  I did wonder, though, if I would ultimately have to take that kind of a job and pay cut in order to make this move. I wouldn't move my home just to hate my job, though.  So, I kept writing.  I started looking for maternity cover jobs to get my foot in the door.  I filled out 110+ applications.  I received a lot of "we regret to inform you" emails, and I received even more silence from ones that just said "if you haven't heard from us by a week past the closing date, assume you have not been short-listed for an interview."

When May came around and my seniors ended their last day of school, I started making plans for next year.  Job openings weren't popping up with much frequency anymore.  I revised my cover letter to emphasize that, although I lived in the USA, I would fly over for the interview if offered one.  If that's what it took, so be it.  On Friday May 9, I saw a posting from King's Ely, an independent school an hour north of London.  The position was much more attractive than most others being posted so late, so I applied.  The following Wednesday, they called me.  That was a first.  They wanted to interview me via Skype and wanted me to film a lesson that I might post on YouTube for them.  Patrick Geneva helped me out with the filming, and I interviewed on Wednesday May 22.  An hour after the interview, I got another email from Sue Freestone, the headmaster of the school, asking to speak with me personally.  We Skyped the following day.  We determined that each other was quite serious about this, but I needed to visit in person, tour the school, interview again, and even teach a lesson.  Personally, I needed to figure out if I wanted to move my life to Ely, so I needed to see this place.  They agreed to spot me half the air fare, and I flew over on Saturday June 1.  On Sunday June 2, I met Ian Young, the assistant head master, at the Ely train station.  I explored Ely all day with the most beautiful weather I'd ever experienced in England, and that evening I had dinner and beer with Ian.  On Monday June 3, I joined the school for a service in Ely Cathedral, toured the grounds with Ian, met Ned Kittoe (Head of Physics) and toured the labs, met the gorgeous physics teacher whose position was opening because she's moving away to marry, paused to lament that I would not be working with this beautiful British physics teacher, interviewed with Sue Freestone, taught my lesson on sound waves to a sweet group of Year 9 students, had lunch with the science department, and returned to my room to contemplate the decision I was about to make.  It didn't take long.  I'd been thinking about this for months, I'd thoroughly researched the school and the town, and I knew this was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up.  I went downstairs to Sue's office, she offered me the job, I accepted, and we shook hands while smiling.  

Years of dreaming, months of applying, weeks of researching, all leading up to a hand shake.  I hope everyone gets a chance to have one of those hand shakes.