26 Jul Moving on from Teaching: Goodbye, Bucharest; Hello, Umbria

It’s been two years since I’ve posted here. Two years of covid lockdowns, online teaching, then in-person teaching (in masks, 6-feet apart with windows open), then more online teaching. Sunday PCR and antigen tests, close contact quarantine protocols, and learning how to get over the crippling anxiety once pandemic restrictions were lifted.

This is just an account of what the last two years were like as a teacher (and why I’ve decided to take a sabbatical).

It’s now been a little over a month since I said goodbye to Bucharest: our home for the last five years, and the journalism program I built at the school. There were tears, lots of hugs, and many “see-you-laters”; but mostly, there was a huge feeling of relief.

Back in October, Luke started interviewing for teaching positions at a variety of schools (one in Japan, two in Thailand, one in Kenya). And with each one, I became more and more uneasy. Did we really want to start over at a new school while the pandemic was still ongoing? Did we even have the emotional capacity to teach anymore? The answer was no.

So now here we are, jobless and and without a permanent address, figuring out what life will look like this next year. I write this post from a warn wooden table in a farmhouse in Umbria, Italy. The warm breeze comes through the window and the sounds of cicadas fill the room. Suitcases are stacked in the corner, next to an ancient fireplace. Charlie is splayed out on the cool terracotta floor, eyes heavy; and Luke is at the other end of the table, creating his first spreadsheet of the year (his dream).

There’s lots of hilltop towns and wineries to explore, but there’s also that needling desire to produce, to work—to find a rhythm. The good news is that life moves slowly here, and so do we. Morning strolls along the rolling landscape; making espresso on the stovetop; hot afternoons in the shade, eating cold melon and fresh tomatoes; evenings staring at the sky as the setting sun turns the clouds to pink cotton candy. Between these moments, I’m making the time to write again: something I haven’t allowed myself to do in years. It feels right.

I hope you’ll follow along as I record what happens during this next year. Expect posts of farmer’s markets, rustic recipes, and how I’m faring in the country. Then, in three weeks, we’ll pack up the car again and head to a friend’ house in a Abruzzo—an area rarely visited by tourists. I have a feeling there will be lots to write about.

A presto!