At 55, with at least some steam left, I have lived all over the USA, chasing after my husband's career for 32 years. I have been able to pursue my own career, of sorts, as a high school Spanish and English teacher. While my professional peers were conducting regular classes within singular school systems, and earning merits, like teacher of the year awards, or more classes to further their degrees or greater certifications as guidance counselors or eventually obtain creds as an honorable(?--more on this later) principal, I relented that one of us needed to cave and relented further that "the one" was to be me. Me, to be the wife; me, to be the mommy, the cook and housekeeper; all the roles I preferred to cast as numbers two-2,000,000 and likewise, casting aside the dreams of my youthful ambitions in lieu of what life would provide. I was consciously opting for vicarious fulfillment and frantically hoping for happiness as time would pass.
I began as a substitute teacher in a small town in eastern NY state for a middle school language arts class. For several days, I had the chance to see if I had what it took to unlock minds. I do recall these kids a bit and found that the regular teacher had come to sit on her tenure and molt. The students seemed to know nothing of the vocabulary of the short story they had begun already, not to mention anything of the author, the era of the story, nor anything that they had read heretofore. I took to the beginning, created vocab outline, researched the author for them, and so on. We had a blast but I found out that I would have been a more thorough teacher and the kids would have had fun learning. I left that assignment feeling confident about myself and hoping that the regular teacher would have been pleased with my efforts. I was called back there often and began to feel comfortable there.
BUT, husband was soon to get a higher paying job which was to come with a transfer, so that was to have been the first of many transfers and the beginning of the transitions of my life in many ways to come.
The transfer count holds at 18, all stateside, so our standing joke to friends is that "we got married on the see America plan." And since 18 + 18 = 36, what does this tell you? Sometimes less than one year in certain places!
The beginning was terribly hard. Hard to part from family and friends. Hard to start out autonomously and always so far away. We had to learn to rely on each other for everything. Husband was working very hard, about 80-100 hours a week, so I was very lonely. I subbed when and where I could, but some places were very small communities, so outsiders weren't easily accepted. Other times, it was a religious issue.
I had submitted a resumed at several private schools in one location, several years down the road. I was very surprised that at a well-loved Christian school, I was refused to apply because I wasn't Christian enough, being Roman Catholic. To this day I remain confused at the very idea of being Christian with conditions.
In our current church in TN, my youngest daughter and I were working in a ministry, assisting folks with interest in Catholicism; some were pursuing conversion to Catholicism, which is a long process because people need to be certain they want to make this life change and accept Catholicism as their way of life. The program is called RCIA, or Roman Catholic Initiation of Adults. Not to mention that TN doesn't have many Catholics to begin with!
Catholicism is no more or less Christian than any other Christian faith, however, we have been around since Christ, and we NEVER change. We follow everything that Christ commanded, as it is written and so on. Amen.
Anyway, we met a guy who converted to Catholicism last year, a really smart and engaging fellow. Prolly more Catholic than any cradle-Catholic I've ever met. He is knowledgeable and enlightening and very amazing to listen to. Prior to conversion, he was a true Southern Baptist. He tells it himself how he spent a lifetime making commentary about those wayward Catholics who've all lost the path. But, he had never even entered a Catholic church, much less ever spoken to a Catholic, yet had always had a curiosity. One day a Catholic he knew of invited him into a real Catholic church! After some avoidance for a while, he finally did go into one and was overcome with a tremendous sense of something greater than he had ever felt before. This is what had sent him to RCIA. Over some time, made his way to conversion and eventually, ran into an old Southern Baptist pal with who he had shared his glad news. His pal didn't see it as such. He protested and said, "See ya around, buddy." End of a life-long friendship! Christian with conditions. This makes me very sad.
What I really like about being Catholic is the word itself. Catholic literally means: of interest to all. We like everyone and want everyone to be a part of the Good Word. One thing is certain, we are definitely NOT A CULT, as a certain book store seems to think.
All the relocations I've done have not made me stagnant. Not at all. I have met thousands of people, a happy handful with whom I've become friends. I have friends all over our country, so I am never a stranger any longer, no matter where I go! Most importantly, I have learned so much from people everywhere, and simply from observation. I have much to share and now that I'm at the other side of my journey, perhaps the reflections of my past will not be misspent.
