Standin’ at the crossroads

Last weekend I went to the annual HITESOL (“high tee-sol”, the Hawaii chapter of Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages) conference, mainly to attend the jobs panel. Talk about a wake-up call. Sitting there amongst the other under-employed, we listened to reps from some of the major language programs in town recite the same bleak litany: $18/hr (classroom time, but what about prep?); no benefits; chance of part-time work available (dependent upon enrollment); send in your resume, we’ll keep it on file. The gathering felt like a transitionary, “back to work” program for the down-on-their-luck. It’s times like these that the reality of your situation sharpens into focus right quick. The epiphanic moment.

Plainly put, Honolulu suffers from a glut of ESL teachers. And it’s not hard to understand why: for reasons that may seem obvious (upon first consideration), not everyone who comes here in pursuit of a degree returns to their point of origin (myself included). You’d think this would make for an employer’s market, but with so many teachers shuttling from job-to-job with one eye constantly on the lookout for any opportunity, the labor pool is in such a state of flux that long-term planning is all but futile. (Just yesterday I was asked if I’ll be available to teach this July. Get back to me June 30th…)

There are a few coveted full-time teaching positions here, but snagging them often boils down to networking, being in the right place at the right time, and plain ol’ dumb luck, leading to one all-important question: is it really worth it? Do I love teaching so much that I’d be willing to chase down a few hours here and there for far less money than I could earn waiting tables or schlepping suitcases?

Of course I’m being facetious, but at some point — if you’re lucky — you reach a crossroads where it becomes necessary to choose which it is you’ll nurture: your passion or your pocketbook. The truly fortunate among us somehow manage both, while economic reality and family responsibility force others to worry about getting food on the table first. No dishonor in that. At the moment, however, I find myself in a curious position somewhere in between — about to face unemployment, yet due to that very fact, free to determine the arch and trajectory of my next endeavor. And while I still have a bit of wiggle room before things become dire (which is itself relative), I need to be honest and ask myself if full-time teaching is where my talents and interests truly lie. I’ve known some fantastic teachers over the years; I just don’t think I’m one of them. As I’m fond of telling people, I’m not very efficient when it comes to putting a class together: whether it’s a warm-up activity or an entire lesson, I spend way more time on preparation than is feasible and in the end I’m rarely satisfied with the result. That’s no way to go through life, especially if you have a chance to do something about it.

Don’t get me wrong: I really do love the creative challenge and interaction that teaching presents. That said — and in the interest of full disclosure — I should mention that I’ve been teaching on a reduced schedule over the past several years. (The balance of my time going towards tech / curriculum / admin duties.) Having the luxury of time to invest in developing a single class each term has been wonderful. However, I’m afraid that full-time teaching would result in more harried preparation, stress, and reduced overall-enjoyment on my part, which would surely manifest itself in the classroom. I had a taste of this recently and it wasn’t ideal, let me tell you.

One option would be to continue on to a Ph.D. Not too long ago, Brian landed a sweet job in Nagoya, Japan (with a much more favorable salary-to-teaching hours ratio than you could ever secure with an M.A.). My hat’s off to him, but I don’t think I could pursue another degree at this point in time in good faith. (I’m having a hard enough time as it is finishing up my current program.) The original plan four years ago was to return to Japan and teach at the university level, but now I’d have to reexamine any motivation for wanting to do so. A lot of people, it seems, end up teaching English under the oddest of circumstances — again, myself included — and accrue a kind of momentum that becomes harder to shake off the longer you stay in the profession.

Plus — and I hate to say this — I’ve just eclipsed the maximum “preferred age” for most university teaching positions in Japan (I won’t go into detail about why that is… We’re talking about Japan, after all). But I’m not going to use that as an excuse to feel sorry for myself. I don’t think I’d actually be very happy teaching in Japan; even at the university level, contracts tend to be short-term so there’s always going to be anxiety over where the next opportunity for work will be. And, the last I heard, I’m not the only one with a career in this marriage.

(As an aside, I was recently asked to return to Kurume — as an ALT [assistant language teacher] at a senior high school, no less; I had to think carefully about how to tactfully turn down the invitation. I’m not saying I’m above that kind of work anymore, but it wouldn’t be long before I’d be pulling my hair out trying to re-direct such a misguided approach to English-language education from within. No, I think I can be much more effective from outside the system.)

After the jobs session had wrapped up, I changed back into my cycling togs and started for home with a lot on my mind. I thought a ride up and around the Tantalus / Round Top loop might do me some good so I dropped off my stuff at the apartment and filled up on water before heading back out.

Right where the road forks, at Baker Park, there was a group of kids playing touch football. It was really weird because as I rolled past, settling in for the climb ahead, the ball was snapped yet not one among them said a word; all I heard was the skiffing of bare feet on the drying grass. It was a great sound, full of promise and good memories. Just what I needed.