First, I'm sorry I haven't been posting!
I've been enjoying vacationing and (not so much enjoying) moving out to grad school. I'm all settled into my apartment and meeting all kinds of new people at orientation for graduate teaching assistants.
Don't worry, friends! The Blog will continue to roll out while I'm in grad school - I can't help it! I love sharing and I think, I hope you like reading it.
So...onto the year in review...
This post has been sitting for a long time in my Drafts folder. Mostly because it's incredibly personal and mostly because I knew that this type of post needed to be released as my year in Chemnitz drew to a close. I've written and rewritten this post - mentally and physically - so many times and I've seriously debated whether or not to post it.
Because this post is actually more for me than for you, dear readers. And it's a lot more serious and personal than a lot of the things I write. But then I remembered that this blog isn't just for your amusement (although I confess, I do amuse myself while writing it), but also for me as a record of my time abroad.
My last letter to Tübingen was partially honest - the feelings in the post were (and still are) 100% true, but, in hindsight, the depth of emotion in the post lacks honesty.
So, this last letter to Chemnitz will strive to be as unabashedly honest as possible.
Anyway, here we go:
Right before graduation, one of my professors asked me if I was "happy" with all of post-grad decisions.
I lied.
I said I was happy, when in fact, I was deeply miserable.
Simply put, I did not want to accept to the Fulbright.
The long answer goes a bit like this:
I had applied for the Fulbright award in the late fall of my senior year. It was a strange time in my life.
Although can remember certain events and conversations of senior year, most of the year is a blur of terrible.
It was/is, to date, the worst year of my life.
And mostly, my Tübingen year is to blame for it.
Despite the fact that if I had the choice again, I would choose Tübingen again in a heartbeat, the time I spent in Germany majorly screwed up my senior year for many reasons:
1) I had to take a heavy course loads with difficult classes (many of which requiring thesis papers of some sort), which were all required courses I need to graduate.
2) My year abroad meant I had to work harder and better in all my classes - I had gotten used to the easy (if not lazy) pace of university in Germany.
3) I overcommitted myself to 4 jobs plus my school work, deluding myself into forgetting about the pace of American universities by the pace of Tübingen courses (with their glorious no homework status).
4) Oh, and I had two weeks to recover from the culture shock from a full year abroad before starting the Merry-Go-Round of Death that was my senior year.
Add to this a healthy dose of worrying about the future, existential crises about what exactly I wanted to do with my job, trying to keep in touch with friends whom I hadn't seen a year, miserable all-nighters, forgetting to eat and sleep, and the struggle to "re-learn" academic English and you have the perfect brew for a shitty, shitty year.
The fall semester was definitely worse: I remember being home alone at the apartment after class, making dinner, and I was so tired, I accidentally dropped a glass and it shattered.
Usually this would warrant some swears, but while cleaning it up, I found myself violently sobbing because I was so tired and I had to so much work to do, which I knew would have me working until 2 or 3 am before I had to wake up at 5am to get ready to teach 6th graders German AND THIS BROKEN GLASS WAS REALLY INCONVENIENT AND TAKING UP PRECIOUS TIME THAT I DIDN'T HAVE.
I was basically one missed deadline away from a full mental breakdown.
(Of course, only in hindsight, I am realizing now how miserable I was then.)
It shouldn't come as a shock then, I was trying my hardest to get accepted to program that would send me back to Germany, where life was easier, less stressful, and filled with full meals and proper hours of sleep. I also hoped that year teaching abroad would shed some clarity on the decision which I had basically already made: that I didn't want to go to law school, but that I wanted to be an English teacher.
So I applied with optimism to Fulbright, knowing that I might not get an answer until April or May.
And I got sucked into life, work, tests, and other applications.
And my year slowly got better as I readjusted to American life, my old social life, the pace of college classes, and the English language in general.
As I became more certain that I wanted to continue studying English literature and as my acceptance letters started rolling in, I forgot about Fulbright as I started making grad school plans.
I was happily envisaging my future at grad school with Pinterest-cute apartment, an adorable beater car, and a little pug who would sit on my lap as I pondered all things literary whilst sipping tea with my newly found grad school friends, who would all be perfectly nice, intelligent, and laugh at all my jokes.
(Although the car and the pug didn't come true, I hope the adorable apartment and awesome will be true.)
I was finally used to American life again and I was ready for grad school.
And then I found out about the Fulbright.
While other people I knew were squealing and jumping up and down about receiving their Fulbright awards, I felt miserable.
While other people were shedding tears of joy that first week, I spent that time trying not to have a panic attack or burst into tears during class. The Fulbright was a bomb thrown into my best made plans and I felt guilty - knowing that some people who I thought were better candidates than me did not receive them. I also felt guilty knowing that although I love the German language, it is not in my plan for the future as teacher or a scholar (sorry German professors everywhere), and I knew I would be joining a group of people for whom German was their prime passion.
And knowing that I should be feeling happier or as some people told me: grateful, honored, special; (because once an official organization said I worth paying attention to, people also started to tell me how to feel and think about it),
It all just made me more miserable.
But I knew I also couldn't say no to a Fulbright. I tried to recall all the feelings that made my initial application so passionate, but I was having difficulty summoning them.
I spent the summer relaxing with friends and working at my job, trying to stave off the panic attacks about being abroad.
This whole mess, in hindsight, I realize, was good for me. (Which either proves that I'm quite self-aware or a masochist or both.)
Although I was reluctant and nervous about this year in Chemnitz, this was the year I needed for many reasons.
I didn't need this year for career reasons or resume building reasons, which is what I hear from some other Fulbrighters. I didn't need this year because I wanted to help little kids or because I wanted to see the world, although I enjoyed doing both.
As it turns out, I need this year for myself.
What I've learned this year:
1) Best-Laid Plans
I'm a compulsive list-maker, planner, and worrier. I like having a plan and following it. I learned the first time in Germany that I can let parts go and leave things unplanned. That's what makes life (and traveling, especially) fun.
But for me, there always has to be an end goal, whether its a tangible outcome ("I've seen this" or "I've done this") or more of an emotional one ("This made me happy").
The thing that stressed me about college was that my plans and goals never matched up with reality.
It's not that I wasn't successful or happy in college! I was extremely so, even during the Year From Hell. It's that the plans I had imagined for myself never happened and I had to let them go.
I had imagined I would graduate as an English and Political Science major - I ended up with English and German.
I had imagined I would study abroad for a semester in England - I ended up studying abroad for a year in Germany.
I had imagined I would go to law school and became a fabulous attorney with a closet full of expensive heels and handbags - I am now prepping to teach Freshmen introductory composition and my closet has lots of teacher clothes.
You get the gist.
I now realize that although having plans and goals are important parts of life, I have to accept that my reality is way cooler than any plans for the future I could have imagined.
So I'm refusing to box myself in during grad school - I know I enjoy teaching, thinking about literature, and writing about things with a modicum of sarcasm.
I might end up working on a Ph.D.
or I might become a travel writer
or I might become a high school English teacher
or I might become a movie/book/TV show reviewer
or I might end up doing what I've always wanted to do:that is, become a romance novelist.
Or I might end up doing something that I could never have imagined doing.
2) The Simple and Honest No
Part of the problem of my senior year is that I overcommitted myself. I couldn't say "no" to people when I really needed to for my own sanity.
For clarity, here's an example from
one of my favorite movies, 27 Dresses,
starring the adorable James Marsden.
This year in Chemnitz has taught me how to say "no", an essential skill for adulthood.
Adulthood is terrifying what with the newfound independence, paying bills, the fear of failure, having to do your own laundry, expectations of maturity and rationality, paying more bills, and doing more laundry.
Terrifying stuff, truly.
But the best thing about being an adult is the freedom to choose.
Yes, for the first time in your life you can really choose what you want and don't want to do!
Hopefully, you'll be saying "yes" to new, fun experiences, but you also have to know how to say "no" to people sometimes.
The best thing about living in Germany is that you can say "no" to people simply.
Culturally in America if you have to say "no" to someone (whether it's a genuine or disingenuous "no"), you usually have to come up with an excuse. You have to counter-offer with something if you have to reject someone ("Sorry I can't volunteer this week, but I can I come some time next week?" or "I've seen this movie already, maybe we can watch this one?"). We are even culturally allowed time to waffle with a "maybe" on committing ourselves until we can summon up a good excuse to say "no".
Germans, on the other hand, expect honesty and commitment when they ask you do something. To waffle or go back on your word is the height of rudeness and it shows a weakness of character. You can say "no" without excuse (if the situation calls for it) and it will be appreciated.
At my school, it was critical, because I was the only English Teaching Assistant and it only takes a few extra requests to swamp my schedule.
Here's an example:
Teacher: "Hannah, I know you usually don't come in first period, but my class is watching a movie and if you wanted you could come and do a discussion for ten minutes after the movie ends."
Me (thinking): Ummm that's a big no. I could be sleeping, lesson planning, getting errands done, doing laundry, etc.
If I was in America, I would have to come up with an excuse to say no. And if I know the excuse is weak before I open my mouth (like the one above), I know I will have to say yes.
In Germany, I can just say: "I don't really think I can come in" with no further explanation and the teacher is not offended. They might be disappointed, but they aren't offended.
Although I still find myself making counter-offers (even when I don't want to), I have learned to say "no" and, guess what?! Life is so much better and less stressful.
3) Me, Myself, and I
One the big fears that reduced me to panic about heading off to Germany again was the fact that I was going to be all alone.
I'm an extrovert.
I'm used to being with friends and family, having an entourage, rolling with a posse...
Okay, yes, I enjoy having some time alone, but I prefer being with other people.
And the idea of being alone in a foreign country was more than little terrifying. My time in Tübingen got me over my fears of being away from home and surviving in a foreign country, but I had a close group of friends (who became like brothers and sisters to me) there.
And although I have many friends and housemates here in Chemnitz, I spent a good percentage of my week (when I'm not in class) by myself. Alone.
This was the thing that I was most worried about.
And surprisingly... I really liked it!
Spending time alone throws you into a quiet space with just you and yourself.
And I'm a firm believer in the oft quoted Oscar Wilde quip: "To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long love affair".
And although this love affair with myself has never really faltered, getting to spend more time with myself and my thoughts has let me become more self-reflective....which leads me to...
4) Get Your Teach On
I love teaching. I really do.
I could gush on ad nauseam about how much I like teaching with all kinds of anecdotes.
But suffice it to say: I now know what I began to suspect senior year - Teaching is what I should be doing. What level and what kind of teaching, only time will tell.
To wrap this long, emotional post - if I was asked again: "Am I happy?", or rather, "Was I happy in Chemnitz?"
The answer is an unequivocal YES.
I also want to say thank you to the teachers and friends I made this past year in Chemnitz, who made my year so amazing.
I'm looking forward to the next big adventure in grad school!
Lots of Love,
Your Humble Blogger
