The plane ride from Atlanta to Frankfurt was long, the longest flight Katie had ever been on. As she waited to get off the plane, she groaned at the thought of sitting in the airport for the next five hours, waiting for the plane that would take her to her final destination- Kuwait. Part of her still couldn’t believe she was doing this, and alone. Sure, she’d moved to the Dominican Republic alone, but Annie had been waiting on the other side for her. It had been close to home, only an hour’s time difference and that was only during day light savings. She’d had American cable TV, so she was saw the last episode of Dawson’s Creek and cried when she watched the first episode of Eight Rules after John Ritter died. There had been power outages, days without water, and a bomb threat at the school. But it still felt safe and close.
And it wasn’t the Middle East.
The turning point had come back in September, when Katie had just started her third year at the American School in Santo Domingo. She had learned last year that international teachers begin searching for new jobs and recruiting in October or November, when most are asked to sign a letter of intent for the following year. Katie had no idea until then that there were these American and International schools all over the world, some in countries she’d never even heard of! She had watched as teacher after teacher, some of them good friends, decided whether to stay or leave. If they decided to leave, then they had to figure out where they wanted to go next, based the available jobs, salaries, benefits, and single- couple- or family-friendliness of a place. It was all very exciting. But Katie knew she was going home after her contract was up.
Then, it was her turn. The year had passed quickly and, all of a sudden, she was handed a sheet of paper that gave her four choices:
1. I will definitely be returning next year.
2. Maybe I will return next year.
3. It is likely that I will not return next year.
4. I definitely will not return next year.
Katie read the paper and understood that if she said she was not coming back, that was it. The school would not offer her a contract and, in June, she could move back to Georgia. She could have her old life back, hang out with her friends on weekends, meet Molly’s new boyfriend, buy Doritos whenever she wanted and not have to worry about daily power outages.
And this all sounded like a very good plan to her, until she talked with the Weeblins. Mary Frances and Paul Weeblin were one of a few families who semi-adopted Katie during her time in the D.R. They had weekly dinners, invited her on weekends to the beach and offered her rides when they were going to the grocery store or mall. They helped her find her way around and kept her from feeling too lost or overwhelmed. She loved their young son and infant daughter and often babysat so Mary Frances and Paul could have some mommy-daddy dates.
The Weeblins had met while working in Vietnam. Mary Frances had worked at four other international posts and the D.R. was Paul’s third. They were definitely leaving this year and wanted to go to the Middle East or Asia so they could save some money and have a safe place for their children to grow up.
Katie went over to have dinner at their house one Friday night, not knowing it was going to be one of those nights that changed her life.
They ordered pizza and Katie and Mary Frances sat in the garden while Quint and Paul played a very rudimentary game of catch. Katie was feeding Lila and she smiled as the little girl fought sleep.
“So Katie, what are your plans for next year? Did you sign your letter of intent?” Mary Frances asked, taking the sleeping baby and putting her in the carrier beside the table. It was late October but it was still almost eighty degrees, even at six o’clock at night.
“No, I haven’t signed it, but I’m going home. I just came to finish out Frank’s contract and then go back.”
Mary Frances, looking kind but perplexed, turned and faced Katie and asked, “Why?”
“Well, because,” Katie started and then stopped. “I mean, I just want…” she tried again. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered why did she want to go home?
Before she left, she was in a horrid relationship with a guy who, she had since decided, was a pathetic loser. She loved going home to visit but moving home would mean finding a place to live and trying to find a job. Once, in a particularly motivated moment, Katie had started researching teaching jobs around the Atlanta area. There had been one opening for an art teacher and the interview had not gone well. Her friends were great and she missed them all, but Amelia and her cousin Eric were living in Coweta now, which was a 45-minute drive from her hometown. They both had day jobs that left them tired at night and they had things to do on the weekends. Her other friends, while closer, were all getting married and starting families and everyone had begun morphing into the adults they were to become. “I don’t really think I even fit in back home,” Katie told Mary Frances. Mary Frances gave her a wistful smile.
“Yeah, it’s hard going back. I once heard it said that international teachers know who their real friends are because an acquaintance will listen to you talk about your new home for ten to fifteen seconds before tuning you out. A real friend will listen for at least thirty.” The both gave a half-hearted laugh and Katie realized it was true. There was nothing for her to go back to, no reason not to keep doing this incredible job, living this amazing life.
“So what do I do, Mary Frances? Where do I start looking for another job?”
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