Tough Time Saying Good-bye

I let the cat out of the bag about my decision to leave Szerencs and go to Budapest for a second year of teaching about a month ago to my contact teacher, Etelka.

Etelka is the best person for the job she has. Her English is wonderful, she is nagyon professional, she is there at a moment’s notice, even when I get a bout of hypochondria…she makes an appointment for me at the dermatologist to examine the shady red bump on my neck that’s been there for over a year now. A while ago, I found out that she was a Jehovah’s Witness and this answered my questions to why she wouldn’t participate in our New Year’s toast at school or wish me happy holidays. She is completely and utterly invested in her students. While other teachers re-use their lessons every year, she re-invents the wheel all the time (making poster boards, and other admirably meticulous projects.) She has no children of her own, but I have a feeling that she’s got enough at work.

When I told her that I was leaving, she didn’t make a huge deal of it. She told me that she understood and that it’s my life. God, how different things were last year! But that’s another story for another day.

I only had to wait another week or so and the little birdies had gotten word out.

To go off on a side-note: I’ve found that one of the most frustrating things about teaching is that you rarely get any feedback. Especially here, when no one speaks English to your exact native caliber, and when you have your classes just once a week. For most of the time here, I felt like a ghost. I enjoyed teaching my classes and seeing my kids, but by the next week, they had forgotten what we had done in class. Is what I’m doing really matter? Is anyone learning ANYTHING? A lot of the times, this is what I thought, but I tried not to let it dominate my general disposition.

One day after school was over, Etelka sped walked up to me. She darts around everywhere like a little pinball in a machine called the school. Everyone needs her and she helps everyone. She told me with sparkly eyes, “Kat we have a new idea! We want you to commute from Budapest on Mondays and Tuesdays to teach in our school and then you can go back to Bp and teach there for the rest of the week. What do you think? We’ll pay for the train!”

I had previously complained to Etelka that teaching 11 grades in 3 schools wears on one’s sanity after a while and that this was one of the reasons why I decided to leave. Apparently, it got through to the headmaster and now the next person who gets my job will only have to teach in one school.

She told me that they are very sad that I’m leaving and that they would really like me to stay. First of all, she says, “the children love you,” then, “it would be easier for you to stay and less paperwork for us.” HA! The truth comes out…just kidding.

Many weeks later, I told Ili, an older English teacher who sits next to me in the staff room. She is the only colleague of mine at that school who went out of her way to talk to me other than Etelka. We were talking on the stairs and she had said, “you’re coming back, right?” And, I was surprised she hadn’t heard. I told her that I just couldn’t stay. Her eyes started tearing up and she grabbed my hand and apologized. I was dumbstruck. Previous to that moment, I hadn’t thought that anyone had really cared that much.

Then, today, after another amusing lesson with my all-time favorites 10N, who actually got me to sing part of the “Star-Spangled Banner,” before they sang their national anthem, Szabolcs, came up to talk to me. I like Szabolcs, because he was raised very well. He is very polite, considerate, professional and smart. But, he never really talks to me after class like some of the others. So when he said, “excuse me,” I could sense that he was going to ask me if I was coming back next year.

Saying good-bye to my colleagues isn’t what jerks my heart. It’s definitely the students. I’ve been dreading the moment when I have to tell my students that I’m leaving them for the big city. I feel like such a traitor.

But…Budapest has threaded its way into me so deeply and so intricately that I know I need to be there.

So, I sighed and told him that I’ve enjoyed my time here immensely, but I’m going elsewhere. He paused for a moment, said, “ok” and then said, “thank you,” and left. After that, I felt an anvil hit the bottom of my stomach.

Maybe the reason why I am so surprised at people’s reactions is because I got nothing of the sort from my old job. When a Hungarian colleague tells me, “I’m going to miss you,” it makes me wonder how certain American colleagues couldn’t even look me in the eye to say good-bye last year.

Of the colleagues who didn’t quit alongside me last time this year, only one wished me luck. Only one invited me to dinner to say good-bye. Only one told me to write and let her know I was doing. Only one really believed that I was doing the right thing.

There aren’t words to express how much I’m going to miss this place, even as I desperately need to leave it and move on.