First Test Passed
A life update and a barely passed test.
Dear Reader,
Most of you know I’m a recovering high school English teacher, but I actually went back to work recently as a substitute. In some ways, it was lovely to be back with students; even the way they sized me up felt like more real communication than I get most days. Yesterday I taught 6th-grade math in a special education classroom. The students told me I was “chill.”
I also wrapped up my second-to-last MFA semester and prepared submissions for our July residency. My memoir is in production, and I should see the interior layout and completed wraparound cover in the next week or so.
I’ve been busy on Substack as well. I did four live sessions with Lynn J. Broderick Lupita Eyde-Tucker Chris B. Writes and Scott Perry; honored guests who shared their own living, noticing, and why it all matters. In the story space, we explored lyric writing: the style, structure, why, and how. And we had our first Story Brunch on Sunday, May 31st, a gathering to write, share, and celebrate our work.
In June, we’re exploring conflict and push-back; why both are essential to our stories. I’m starting with an excerpt from my memoir, posted below, with the option to read the full chapter as a paid subscriber. My next post will share the many evolutions of chapter one: how and why I ended up with this opening.
This is the opening page from Lesson (Un)Planned: A Decade of Teaching, Travel, and Transformation; the moment I stepped off the plane in Bahrain, when the thick desert air and unfamiliar sounds made clear I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I’ve also included the heading for Part One, the “unit,” my nod to the teaching thread running through the book. I think it adds another layer of tension and conflict. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
You can read the prologue here if you want to start from the beginning.
Chapter 1: Reinvention
The smell of jet fuel and sound of whirring engines woke me from my stupor as I looked into the darkness at my new home: a few lights flickered in the distance like fireflies on soft summer nights in Kansas. I watched bleary-eyed as stairs rolled to the exits, and we stumbled off the plane, buoyed up by the humidity thick in the air. This is the farthest I have ever been from home, and I now live here. This is my new home. I let that sink in as I fished out my passport and headed to customs. It was two in the morning.
In line, I studied the most recent entry, a work visa for Bahrain. I had been obsessively turning to this page throughout the trip, but now I slowly browsed my passport pages, a story for each stamp hastily applied. Here was Nicaragua, missing a corner, and Peru was barely visible, some so smudged I had to squint and think, is that Guatemala or Bolivia? However, my work visa for Bahrain was precise, complete with a raised sticker bearing signatures. All very official, at least I hoped so. I pulled on my sweater as the line moved closer to the customs window; it was freezing in here.
The official smiled as I stepped up; he greeted me with the customary “a salam alakum.” I had practiced the proper response, but the only thing that came out was a high-pitched “Salam” and a weird wave. He chuckled. “So you are moving here?”
“Yes, I’m a teacher.”
He flipped through my documents. His smile faded. He furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the pages. “Who is your sponsor?”
I blanked. I had spent months on paperwork. Notarized transcripts, apostilles, embassy stamps, fees I could barely afford. I remembered being so impressed by the apostille itself, its intricate seals and raised lettering, which made my degrees more official. But I wasn’t even sure who technically sponsored me. The school? The director? Some bureaucrat in the Ministry of Education? I fumbled through my folder, papers slipping, until I found the letter with the official name.
He glanced at it, nodded, and his face relaxed. He stamped my passport and handed it back. “Mabrook.”
“Shakrun,” I managed. Mabrook must mean congrats. But at least I remembered how to say thank you.
First test passed. How many more were coming?
The full chapter is available to paid subscribers → [link]
I would love to hear from you about a big change in your life that you probably weren’t prepared for.
All the Best,
Michelle
Here is the full calendar for this month! Look out for details for the write-in and live sessions.
I can't wait for the book.
This story reminds me of doing that process in Mexico. Royal pain in the ass. It was _beyond_ a bureaucratic nightmare.