D.C. Fulbright conference

After a fast week in Tijuana, Alec and I got up early on August 1st, got a ride to the border ...from Roberto, of course, who insisted on picking us up at 7:30am on a Saturday though we said "You're off work!!! We can take a cab!!!", crossed the border on foot, caught the trolley to San Diego and a bus to the airport to take off for the Fulbright pre-departure conference in DC. The thing was, we had already departed and had farmer sun burns, blisters and small bags of dirty laundry with us. I had been looking forward to it, but felt less enthusiastic after finding the house; I really wanted to hoof it up and down evil old calle Cucapah and hunt for appliances in the segundas. The hotel was awesome - more than I would ever pay for and near Dupont Circle. But I didn't feel the buzz I felt when I went to the May Fulbright conference. In May I just felt so flattered..."Who me? The State Department wants to fly me to DC and put me up in a fancy ass hotel and thank me for being there?!" I really wanted to feel it again but instead felt a debilitating back pain that I had never experienced in my life, was it from dragging all of my stuff out of my Atlanta apartment? Too many plane rides? We started the week with a couple of days with Comexus, the Fulbright commission in Mexico. Our exchange partners were also there and I started to feel good - cool people going to Mexico - some really adventurous ones bringing families and dogs - I was impressed. Within two days Fulbright rolled into town with a host of international teachers from many corners of the world and the rest of the U.S. outgoing teachers. By the time they arrived our Mexico group was pretty close knit and not up for mingling - we had already found our people.

I found myself getting jealous when we discussed our assignments in Mexico - how did all these American high school teachers get placed in pretty towns at Mexican UNIVERSITIES, while I was headed to TJ to a public high school? When we discussed discipline in the classroom the coordinators directed a rather lengthy discussion at the two of us going to middle and high schools, then dismissed the rest of the group by saying "If a kid gives you trouble, tell him to leave. It's university". I also found out that I was a second choice. A teacher from New York had turned down Tijuana, and I was plan B. It took the wind out of my "hey Fulbrighter!" sails. I wanted to do touristy things like the rest of the group was doing but found myself bogged down with errands. The first evening in DC, Alec and I found ourselves at a Hispanic laundry mat that could have easily been in Tijuana. I already knew I needed to buy some things for school that I was having trouble finding in TJ. I finally gave up a dragged my aching back to the White House, Lincoln Memorial, etc. and enjoyed it - and then started having drinks with the rest of my group in the evenings. The schedule was exhausting - conferences all day, be here, be there and of course - beer fueled real conversations at night. I found myself watching the Mexican teachers and feeling really worried for them. Did they know what they were getting into? They taught at Mexican universities and wanted to do this thing for a variety of reasons - some financial - some professional - did they really know the shitstorm of the American school system that they were walking into? Weirdly, they just looked so innocent, did they know how bad it can be on "the other side"? And, worried for myself. I was really starting to like that nice hotel and the people I met and we were all going into the frying pan really, REALLY soon.