Great. The Fulbright program that has been the main reason why I continue to teach is no longer funded, after sixty-five years, due to the sequester and general assholery in D.C. When I say not funded, I mean it's over, done, no longer. Now the fucking federal government can't even keep its ass open so one of the last workshops of my beloved program can host a pinche cultural visit in Atlanta.
"So, where you from? What you do here in Atlanta?"
"Oh, I live here. I'm just working a conference in the hotel".
"Okay, I get you your beer".
I don't like speaking with bartenders.
"We are sorry to announce that Richard Zolinski, U.S. State Department representative of Cultural Affairs, was unable to travel to Atlanta, due to the federal government shutdown. He wanted you to know that he is here in spirit".
"What kind of conference?".
"It is an international conference, teachers that are from a lot of places, teaching here this year in the U.S.".
"My daughter teacher. University. But only part time work".
"That happened to me last year. Only part-time work. Were you...born in the U.S.?" I asked carefully, knowing the answer was no.
"Nooo!"
"Wait, wait, let me guess. Sorry, let me do this. Cambodia?"
"Close!"
"Alright, Laos?"
"Wrong!"
"Vietnam?"
"Only one lefffft!"
"Holy shit, Thailand!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, which part?"
"I from a small town, called Bangkok".
We were both laughing. Kind of screaming laughing.
"Tell me where you been..."
Oh...where I've been...so many places that I have been...so lucky that I have been...
I remember my first workshop as a grantee in the program. I had received notification a couple of weeks before and after all the waiting, things went into high speed. Direct flight to D.C. into Reagan, at a convenient time. Posh ass hotel. Cash handed to me on arrival to be sure I didn't pay for my cab from the airport out of my own pocket. As I sat in our first meeting, dressed up and nervous, Richard greeted us:
"On behalf of the U.S. Department of State, we would like to thank you for your time, for taking time out of your schedules to be here and participate in this program".
That is just not something us bottom class of public school teachers hear very often. Or never. It felt important, like we really were valued.
"Wow, we're not in DeKalb County anymore" my co-worker from Atlanta whispered to me.
"So, we ate everything we could see. People told us Bangkok was a shit-hole but we loved it...so much to do, so much beauty..."
"Yeah but that plane! Nineteen hours in plane!".
"Oh my God, no shit. I made the mistake of watching the monitor, you know, where the little plane is sitting over the ocean".
"You watch that thing! It horrible! I drink beer and sleep!"
"Wait, what do you mean?" I asked one of the other alum that was working the conference.
"She doesn't have a job anymore, it's over".
"Yeah, I know it's over, but I thought...I thought she would stay on and work with the other Fulbright programs.....what is happening?".
I can't make up any more fake names for her. She made my Fulbright exchange happen, first from the Commission in Mexico and later supported me from orgs in D.C. that administered the grant. She has been the only non-family person that has stuck with me through thick and thin, the only person that has told me for the last five years that I have been doing something good, more than good, honorable, in the classroom.
"Her job is done in two weeks".
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